Once I had the girl across the street who often babysat for us scheduled to come over and take care of our dog. We were gone for only 24 hours. When we got home there was one frantic dog at the door and her mess by the door. It didn’t dawn on me that the girl had not come over at all.
I went across the street to pay her and she was shocked that she forgot. I guess it was okay–people make mistakes. I did not act like I was mad, although I was.
I never had her babysit for me again. Not once. I didn’t give her another chance. I was probably wrong–she was a nice girl. But if we had been gone more than a day my dog might have died. And the poor dog thought we just left her there.
Now the girl has graduated from college and is the mother of two children.
I’m applying to grad school, and I want my potential universities to be aware of a couple classes I took at a community college recently. So I went to the college’s website and look up how to get my transcripts mailed. And…they want me to submit a WRITTEN REQUEST by MAIL. Disbelieving, I actually called them to make sure, and they confirmed that they wouldn’t accept requests by email.
WTF? Come into the 21st century, City Colleges of Chicago! It’s called the internet!
Fortunately when I explained that it would take two weeks for my request to get there from Bulgaria, they told me I could fax my request in. Jesus.
My university wouldn’t send me transcripts either. Something about how a written signature prevents someone who isn’t you from requesting transcripts. Yes, they are aware of the gaping flaw in that, but “it’s policy”.
So freaking weird. The university I actually graduated from will send me my transcripts with no problem, with my social security number. I can buy them through the web any time I like. But the CCC is still living in 1997, apparently.
Sorry, I thought you were a standing ad display for McDonalds.
Anyway, I went to the Immigration office this morning to register my fingerprint and photo for when I go overseas this weekend. A law was passed recently requiring all foreigners to be fingerprinted and photographed when entering Japan, to help stop terrorism, so I pre-registered to avoid standing in the tourist line for an hour on Monday.
This law is necessary, because Japan has had a lot of terrorism.
Except when I ask people, Japanese people, how much terrorism there’s been in Japan, every one of them has thought for a minute and said, “well, none.”
None? What are you talking about? In the past 30 years there have been dozens of incidents, including assassinations, political kidnappings, hijackings, chemical weapon attacks and bombings. The deputy foreign minister’s home was bombed just a few years ago, right in the middle of suburban Tokyo, that’s not terrorism? In '95, a nerve gas bomb went off in the middle of the Tokyo subways, that’s not terrorism? In 1999, a hijacker took control of a passenger plane leaving Haneda airport after killing the pilot, and attempted to crash the plane into Rainbow Bridge, and that’s not terrorism?
Ah, but wait. All those incidents, every single one of them, was carried out by Japanese citizens. Ergo, not terrorism. Ergo, no need to be fingerprinting and photographing any of them.
Fuckers.
And Justice Minister Hatoyama tries to justify it all by claiming he had a) contact with members of Al Qaeda, and b) advance knowledge of the Bali bombings (but did nothing to warn anyone), which somehow makes all of this sensible. Now, I realize he’s just a feeble-minded man-child spewing nonsense out his cakehole, but I honestly like to see him remanded to a windowless cell for the next half-dozen years and subjected to fraternity pranks so he divulge further information about his Al Qaeda ties.
Well, not all the political kidnappings were solely the acts of domestic terrorists. There were the instances of the various Japanese citizens (often teens) kidnapped to train North Koreans in language and cultural cues.
Not that I believe such instances (IIRC less than 20 persons, total, and all going back 15-20 years ago) merit fingerprinting all incoming persons.
Back to my own kvetching. Dammit Black & Decker Handy Steamer. I knew you were getting old. I knew you were starting to fall apart. But, I was planning to replace you next month during after the holiday sales. But, no - you have to die NOW. Dammit.
At least I still have slack in this month’s budget to pay for a replacement.
Or etsy.com -home of starving crafters who need christmas cash. Or something like that. Lots of pretty things, anyway. Or tell Mom to shove it, which would be my preferred option, but I realize not everyone is as ruthless as that.
I was counting political kidnapping to mean kidnapping people of political significance specifically to avoid the NK kidnappings, but ok. In any case, none of those kidnappers came in through the airports or seaports, so the fingerprinting wouldn’t have done squat.
I had a lousy birthday yesterday. I’m planning to treat myself to a bunch of special things to make up for the distinct lack of anyone else doing it for me.
Of course you are right, it is all about the kid’s genorosity and charity. But everytime I read about Pastor Buck something in the story makes me cringe. Take the time he was released from rehab, it makes the paper that he and about 120 of his friends released mylar balloons with 3ft stringy streamers attached. This is worth another mini rant. Who the hell releases balloons into the air anymore and with strangling strings attached. i imagined those balloons littering the landscape, getting caught in power lines and trees, getting eaten by cows in fields and horrors, tranquilly flfoating to the mighty ocean where the rest of the ballons will probably end up as flotsam and jetsam in the massive oceanic dump swirling around at convergence of the atlantic and pacific oceans.
I did hear back from the company. The company owner said the pet sitter was new to her company although not new to pet sitting. I asked her to have the pet sitter just put my keys through my mailbox slot , and said that while I would be open to using her company again, I never wanted that particular sitter.
When I got home, the keys were in the mail basket along with a long explanation of how she had come each day and scooped each day but admitted she forgot the water on Sunday. I guess the poop just magically disappeared because it wasn’t in the poop box and it wasn’t anywhere in the house.
Really the excuses bugged me more than anything. If she’d fessed up and said yes she didn’t come over every day, I’d at least know she was somewhat honest. But come ON. I bought the water dish for the kitties because it’s huge–and that thing doesn’t go dry in one day. It takes at least a couple of days and even then there’s usually a skim of water in the dish.
Plus you know how cats are, or at least my cats are this way. They never eat all their kibble and there are usually little kibbles here and there on the door mats I keep their dishes on. When I got home, those rugs were almost as clean as they get when I vacuum them–all that was on the mats was a bit of kitty fur, not a single kibble was left.
The pet sitter also included a check for half the amount as a refund. I contacted the pet sitting company and asked them to tell her I would NOT be cashing the check; I wasn’t looking for a refund, I was offering feedback on very poor performance. And honestly I want her to feel guilty and IMO if I’d cashed her check then she could feel all righteous about her solution. Sorry, chicky-poo, money doesn’t solve the issue of your suckitude.
Honestly? I wouldn’t be going to Pastor Buck’s church, but that’s just me. My new mini rant:
I know someone else already mentioned it, but I hate, I mean loathe, that horrible “Christmas Shoes” song. It is so incredibly schmaltzy, badly written, poorly sung – it’s like Anti-Music. And worse, if you actually listen to the words – not that I’m encouraging anyone to do that – the ultimate point is that God makes other people suffer so that we are reminded to count our own blessings. Far from finding that a touching message of faith and belief, I’m incredibly offended by it. And there are approximately 900 versions of this song and they play it about every five minutes on the Christmas music radio station. I’d like to kick the shit out of whoever wrote that pile of awfulness, and that mindset is not really the one I’m trying to cultivate for Christmas.
I Did Not Know That. It’s been a long time since I’ve been stuck with anything but an embroidery needle, so my knowledge of the sharps bin is a few years out of date.
Here’s a blogger’s take on it (entry from 11/21), including this gem:
“If a song is an attempt to seduce your ears with its beauty, this song is the equivalent of an emaciated prostitute covered with boils and Tammy-Fae-style makeup flashing you on the street, with a tattoo on her tummy that says “life sucks.” And then punching you in the crotch.”
There’s a link to the song at the end of the blog entry if you want to hear it in all it’s horrible-osity, though you are rightly warned not to listen to it.
For the love of sweet Santa, if you receive an e-mail from a list-serv about an upcoming meeting, do NOT “reply all” to say if you’re coming or not. The only ones who care are the meeting planner and possibly the list-serv administrator. The rest of us on the list-serv do not give a rat’s ass and would prefer not to receive dozens of e-mails, mostly from strangers, explaining why they won’t be at the January meeting. Don’t care! Fuck off!
Fuck you, Lyme disease! Making my wife feel like total shit every minute of every day is NOT COOL!
Okay, drivers: Thank you for using your turn signals. But next time, signal before changing lanes, not just one brief fucking flash when you’re two-wheels-and-then-some into the next lane.
Many (but not all, not by a long shot) Dopers: you’re not better or more enlightened than anybody else, as a group. Looking down on people with different priorities than you is classist and bigoted, plain and simple.
Like Fonzie in the Old West, your high horse has jumped the shark. Get over yourselves.
To my cat Zelda: STOP PEEING ON THE FUCKING BED AND COUCH, ALREADY!
