Just for the record, pain went away. Proving, yet again, that doing nothing is always the best strategy. 
Dear faculty, style guides are meant to enhance writing, not hobble it. Also, maximum word limits are just asinine. If I want to write more than the bare minimum, let me. It’s not like you mark anything beyond the first five pages anyway…
Dear self, get off your lazy ass and start applying for jobs already.
Dear self, when you ask someone to do something for you and they ask if it’s ok if it’s not done until Wednesday, don’t tell them, “Great, because it’s due the following Tuesday.”
Dear person referenced in the previous paragraph, if you promise to do something by Wednesday, do it. If I miss this credit because you can’t read a 2000-word document in 2 weeks, I will be pissed. By the way, would you(or your bosses) please get off your ass and actually let me know whether or not you’ll be hiring me this January?
The local symphony orchestra and chorus (of which I am a member) gave a benefit performance of Beethoven’s Ninth tonight. The concert was free, but donations were accepted for Katrina victims. The only musicians who were paid were members of the New Orleans Symphony.
The chorus sits behind the orchestra, so there’s a wall of sound between us and the audience, and most audience noise is blocked to us. However, I could hear a baby screaming during a quiet part of the second movement and still/again during a quiet part of the fourth movement.
DO NOT BRING INFANTS AND YOUNG CHILDREN TO FORMAL SYMPHONY PERFORMANCES!
The children simply cannot handle it. Never. The Symphony gives several performances annually specifically for children. That’s the time to bring the kids. Any other time your squirming, squalling, talking child is disturbing both the audience and the musicians.
And for Og’s sake, turn off your cell phone. Yes, a cell phone was ringing in the audience during the performance.
And finally, please do not clap EVER until the end of the piece. Most people have learned not to clap between movements; the musicians appreciate that. But please don’t clap for the soloists if they come on stage between movements. They’re trying to get onstage as unobtrusively as possible; they don’t want or appreciate your applause at that point. Save it for the end.
One more rant: Do not use JavaScript to deliver dynamic web content. It absolutely sucks as JavaScript doesn’t obey much of the normal web “look & feel”. Use Perl. Use PHP. Use ASP. Use JSPs. But for the love of God, don’t use JavaScript.
I pit Spaghetti Warehouse for ruining my weekend! We had dinner there about 9:00 on Friday night, I started puking about 10:30. :eek:
Later, after another episode, it morphed into the runs, combined with a low-grade fever, such that I couldn’t eat anything solid all weekend, and was too tired and achy to get off the couch. 
I reported it the the county Health Department as suspected food poisoning. Specifically, I suspect fowl play - a bad egg in my Caesar-salad dressing.
But Javascript’s better than Java applets that take fsck’ing forever to launch. And they’re required for Ajax to work. Ajax is the future.
Hmmm… I used to promote a product called Cascade that seems to be a perfect complement to Ajax.
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The “improved” Chiefs defensive secondary. They looked like matadors against Philly. Ole!!
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The new nickels. Jefferson is peaking around the corner, “Hello, I’m Thomas Jefferson!!! I see you!!!.” I thought the first one I saw was mis-struck. C’mon U.S. Mint, this is the best you can do?
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You people that still write checks for $1.37 at the store. Stop…it…now.
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Cereal boxes. Someone invent a decent method of sealing it.
(1) Okay, I wanna pit jackasses that decide that going to the grocery store is the perfect occasion for a family outing. Mama and papa and all of the little cretins running all over the place, blocking aisles, throwing sticky stuff on top of the merchanise you’ve put into your basket. They suddenly dart in front of you. Or they stand there obtusely and won’t move. Or they sneeze below the sneeze guard on the salsa/salad bar. God damn it, leave the kids at home. If you can’t afford a baby sitter, then leave either the husband or wife at home to watch the kids.
(2) Okay, I wanna pit the jackasses here that don’t know how to use the accellerator. I’m not saying you have to break the speed limit when the light turns green. Just get up to the speed limit so that more than three cars can fit through the damn green light.
(3) Okay, I wanna pit the jackasses here that don’t have the curtousy to get out of the way when there’s no one in front of them. Why do they have to drive at 40kph in a 60 zone, side by side, blocking the entire flow of traffic, and not letting anyone from behind them get up to speed?
(4) Okay, I wanna pit the fsck’ing Americans who drive on the freeways down here and still don’t understand the left lane equals passing lane rule. As much as the Mexicans piss me off in town, the American motor-home-pulling-their-boat drivers don’t understand the concept that one passes on the left and drives on the right. (The Mexicans are great about getting out of each other’s ways.)
My SO somehow screwed up programming the VCR twice, so we missed the season premiere of Desperate Housewives and the second episode of Lost. :mad:
I’m pitting the goddamn moron in one of my classes.
Teacher: Okay, so what is the answer to question four-
Goddamn moron: OHH! OHHH! IT’S TREE! I KNOW IT’S TREE! OHH, TEACHER CALL ON MEEEEEE!
Teacher: It’s not tree.
GM: IT’S TREE! I KNOW IT’S TREE! TREE! TREEEEEE! TEACHER, TEACHER IT’S TREE!!!
No, you stupid fuckass, it’s in fact not tree! If it wasn’t tree the first time you said it, it’s not going to be fucking tree the ninth time you say it! Now fucking sit down, and SHUT UP ALREADY!
Oh, and turn off that damn watch alarm already. Every morning at 9 AM her watch starts beeping like a tornado siren and she squeals, takes ages trying to figure out how to turn it off, and finally turns it off after about a year. I understand how it would happen the first few days of class, but it’s been over a fucking month already. Turn off the bloody alarm!
I don’t actually think this is that lame but it’s not worth starting a new thread, so here I go. The aforementioned diagnosis professor is completely wasting our class time. I am here to learn how to diagnose, how to recognize specific symptoms. This is NOT a policy class! I don’t care what you’re writing your doctoral thesis about, you just wasted half the class time talking about irrelevant material. I thought to myself at one point, “this is neither assessment nor diagnosis!” I got up and left for 10 minutes because I was so annoyed. I asked my friends in the other section of this class what they’ve been doing, and it would appear we are two classes behind them. This is ridiculous. I’m tempted to complain to a department chair about this professor’s total disorganization. I’m here to learn, dammit.
Memo, to my parents and my father’s extended family:
I’M NOT FUCKING JEWISH. I have never been Jewish. Ever since I was old enough to understand logic in the slightest, I was aware that I was an atheist. I was forced through 11 years of hebrew school, in which I did not in fact learn to speak Hebrew. I did learn that the head rabbi at my synagogue is a bigoted, racist, homophobic asswad who abuses his position of authority to preach hatred and intolerance. I learned that Judaism is hopelessly entangled with politcs in the mideast, and differing viewpoints are generally not well tolerated. My parents know this. And yet, for the second year in a row, they called me up on Rosh Hashana. “I guess it’s too much to hope that you went to synagogue?” asks my mom. “Did you go to synagogue?” asks my father. Then the phone gets passed around at the family gathering*, and I get asked the same question THREE MORE TIMES. Twice, I was asked if I at least prayed, to which I desperately wanted to say: “That’s none of your fucking business, you nosy little fuckwicket!” Once I was told that as long as I have faith, it’ll be OK.
I really, really, really wish my parents would stop deluding themselves. I’ve never been Jewish: fucking deal.
*The fact that I severely dislike almost every single person on this side of the family is another issue. Aaargh.
I pit myself for trying to make lip balm again. I know better. This only ends in frustration for me. I can never get it right, and that’s why I haven’t attempted in three years. And yet, for some reason I thought this time would be different. GRR…
Interoffice mail envelopes: we use two kinds: one has a series of two-line blocks for the receipient’s name and department and the other has columns for the date, person’s name, department, name and department of sender and date sent.
Why is it so hard to use just one segment? Must you write, in black magic marker, across 4 or 5 spaces? Or better yet, put a giant address sticker that covers 5-6 spaces? I’ll bet you take up two spaces in the parking, too.
This is such a lame rant, but it gets on my nerves!
My husband will squeeze a bottle, and leave it deformed because he doesn’t let the air back in it before he closes it. A 2-liter of soda, the shampoo bottle, whatever…
I hate that!
I also pit the endless construction that has added 20-30 minutes to my commute time, which was already an hour!
What else…oh yeah. IBS sucks syphillitic donkey ass!
I pit the idiots behind me on the one lane, 35 mph road who are trying to force me to go faster than my usual 45 mph. I know I’m wrong for speeding but I do have my limits. Driving on my butt will not force me to go 50 or 60. It just pisses me off!
I’m trying to get to work - I don’t have time to talk about salvation in the subway station. Get out of my way!
Please don’t make me talk to your toddler on the phone! Damn - the kid doesn’t know me and I can’t understand a word (are those words?) he’s saying.
STOP CALLING ME FOR Bullshit DURING WORKING HOURS. Let me work. Arrrrrrrghhhhh.
If you buy me a drink, I’ll say, “thank you.” I’m polite (and thirsty) and we might even have a nice conversation for a little while. Don’t start acting like we’re a couple now…DON’T FOLLOW ME!!!
Aw man, that felt good!
Search engines that don’t accept three letter words.
M&M Candy maker ASSHOLES!
You Do NOT create ambrosia from the gods (dark chocolate M&Ms), slap some Darth Vader promo crap on the package, and then take them off of the market. :eek:
…and Bob! When you walk by my cube do you have to HAVE TO stick your thumb out and run it along the cube wall so it makes that annoying zipping sound? :mad:
Ode to an apartment manager:
You rotten little lazy bitch, did you enjoy making me pay my last month’s rent with a money order, for no good fucking reason?
Did you like it?
Did it smell like my ass?
Why do you people turn into total money-grubbing scumfucks when someone decides to move?
I hope you washed your hands after handling the money order. NOT!!!
There’a a very good reason it smells like ass.
Bitch.
saramamalana, I recommend that you do talk to your department chair about your instructor. If he was teaching the material effectively and keeping up with the syllabus, his indulging himself a little and prattling on about his research might be acceptable (or, with a different instructor, good enrichment material). But as you said, your there to learn what you need to know, not inflate the pricks ego.