Shingles really sucks. Because of the combination of itching and pain. I could take one or the other in stride, but both at the same time and in the same area of the body is maddening!
Out on the bike today my ride was curtailed by a slow(ish) puncture. It was cold (5C/41F) so rather than change the tube I decided to “pump and sprint” home - inflate the tire, get as far as you can, rinse and repeat. Which was fine until, with a graunching of gears and the rear wheel locking and skidding, the rear mech sheared clean off the bike (in car terms, the gear box fell clean off the car). Wow - never seen that before. That bike is going nowhere.
I’m not superstitious, but bad things (usually they are punctures) happen to bikes in threes. So - having phoned Mrs T for rescue, freed up the rear wheel, and started walking the bike to the agreed pick-up place - I reflected that two of the three were done, leaving just one bad thing looming over me. There was enough traffic on the road to be a bother and, getting in close to the side of the road to avoid a particularly uncompromising delivery van, I managed somehow to step in dog shit. FFS.
Now I am waiting on the gods of cycling. Is another bad thing about to happen to me over the next few days? Or does stepping in dog shit also count?
j
I just checked: the dog shit definitely counts.
I therefore withdraw my rant. (Not!)
j
Huh.
The desire to eat dirt is actually a known phenomenon during pregnancy, predominantly among women of African descent. It may be cultural though I’ve never heard of it as a religious thing.
I did some work as a peer counselor for women on bedrest, a few decades ago (having been through it myself) and one lady said she’d had those cravings - “I drove by it and it just looked soooo good!”, with a laugh. She never indulged, however. I believe she was African-American (from her voice) but I never met her face to face, so I cannot be sure.
When I googled the phenomenon just now, it turns out Amazon SELLS “edible clay”.
I just had to know more, so I googled “Edible Clay Why?”.
This result was informative……there’s a sucker born every minute, I guess.
Cravings for clay or dirt, like those occasionally associated with pregnancy, seemed to be linked to various mineral deficiencies. Eating dirt is not the answer,though. People that eat it without craving it are generally influenced by celebrity and social media woo.
She’s dating Aaron “Immunized” Rodgers so I’m not surprised she thinks eating clay is a good idea.
Also it’s clear that she consumes things much worse than dirt.
This barely justifies a rant, but it’s something that annoys me much more than it should. Formula 1 GP qualifying is broken into three sessions; broadly speaking, their durations are:
Q1 - 18 minutes + 1 lap = 19.5 minutes
Q2 - 15 minutes + 1 lap = 16.5 minutes
Q3 - 12 minutes + 1 lap = 13.5 minutes
So the total duration of qualifying is 49.5 minutes - usually slightly less. As I type this, on TV (in the UK) the Channel 4 Abu Dhabi GP Qualifying Highlights show is about to start. Highlights, mind you - that’s what they call it - just the best of the action, right?
And the duration of the show? NINETY MINUTES.
Am I wrong to seethe?
j
Who would have guess that Shailene Woodley was so classy? 
What’s next? "Buh… buh… buh… mah man’s Paynis…! "
Putting this here because I don’t have the energy to derail a thread, but still wanted to kvetch:
Thank you.
Our jerk kitten has managed to kill yet another litter robot by trying to stick his paw into the hole that is briefly visible when its cycling. Those things are NOT cheap and the supply chain is all fucked up, we are going to be manually scooping poop for weeks.
It doesn’t have to be wearing ignorance as a badge of honor. It could be peacocking one’s ability to allocate one’s mental resources for optimum effectiveness.
Well, I fell AGAIN, even though the wound from my last fall still hasn’t healed. This time I simply lost my balance, landing on my right knee and my nose. Lots of blood. And I broke a really nice floor lamp.
First off, I appreciate that this is a very busy time of year for delivery companies- I mean, I’ve worked for the post office myself as a Christmas temp, I do get it.
That said… dear god ‘Hermes’ - the UK delivery company, I’m not trying to piss off Greek gods here- are incompetent. I usually avoid using them at all costs, as their ability to break items rivals that of a toddler who’s been snorting sugar. As an example, a former housemate ordered a cast iron frying pan which was delivered by them cracked into two pieces on two separate occasions. I don’t think I could do that deliberately.
The way things are apparently supposed to go is that they send you an email when a parcel is dropped off intended for you- with tracking number- then a second email when the item arrives, with a picture of the drop-off, if you have it delivered at home, or just the address and collection hours if you got the cheaper option of a drop-off point- usually a local shop.
Simple.
What usually actually happens is any combination of emails, no emails, parcels delivered to random locations, or not at all, and I don’t think I’ve ever had a picture. Maybe if you zoom out it makes some cosmic sense, but from the perspective of someone sitting in waiting for the item that’s supposed to be there yesterday, not so much.
Unfortunately for me, a company I occasionally buy from exclusively uses them- I can’t get the same items elsewhere, and they have no option to select a sane delivery company. Hermes are, clearly, the cheapest option, because they only actually deliver anything when and where they feel like it, which must cut costs a lot.
If forced to choose them, I usually go for the pick-up points; it’s half the price, and I naively assume they have a better chance of finding them- they have failed to find my house on multiple occasions, as well as claiming delivery was attempted and refused on others.
This time, I have no email with a tracking number, just one saying my parcel has been delivered to the shop, which is several miles away. It has not. The nice flustered lady went through today’s delivery three times. Nothing with my name or address on.
I wish I was even a little bit surprised.
The wife and child ate my plain potato chips and left the nasty flavored ones that they prefer. I splurged on Ruffles which cost about twice what I usually buy. I didn’t get a single chip! Fuckers.
Today I ran out at lunch and figured I’d get my Ruffles fix. The convenience store was out. Of course they had plenty of the nasty flavored ones. 
What are the nasty flavored ones?
Anything but Salt and Vinegar IMHO. I accidentally bought some Cheddar and Sour cream chips the other day. Ugh.
I have some very nice dip that I would like to use, but it’s going to be wasted on those chips.
Neither of the grocery stores near me has any jalapeno flavored Fritos Scoops. REALLY annoying.
Those are delicious, but since at the beginning of the year I was diagnosed with eosinophilic esophagitis I can’t eat anything even slightly spicy. If I do I risk losing the ability to swallow. I guess that’s my mini-rant. It’s nothing new; I started having symptoms as far back as 2012 although for years I assumed my inability to swallow was a mental problem tied to stress. It wasn’t until I required a life-saving endoscopy in February of this year did they tell me it was a physical problem, very rare, and incurable (but fortunately treatable).
Part of the treatment is not eating stuff that can cause heartburn. Bye bye so many delicious things. 
I own a Prius. I don’t know if it’s elite, but I have filled my tank once since late July. I may gas up this week. Having to use the heater has really tanked my MPG.