I ran out of gas in the lawn mower, half way through the job. My yard looks like a race track…short grass on the outside, long grass on the inside.
A fat bee got his feet stuck in the mesh of my screen, but I’m too skeeved out to brush the corpse into the dirt. So a year later, I still have to look at it every time I go to the bathroom.
I ran out of cheese before I ran out of ham and turkey. Lunch will be a little off today.
What’s buggin’ you?
Interns. F’ing interns. You all have been here eight weeks. Can the damn braintrust turn in their damn time cards ON TIME ONCE IN EIGHT WEEKS?
Nope. CERTAINLY not. And what happens then? I HAVE TO FIX IT. And it ain’t easy stuff to fix.
Grumble - go back to school already…
It’s “spider season*” here in Hamburg and the mofo’s are everywhere. And I mean, everywhere - I was talking to a woman I work with today as she sat at her desk and one crawled right up her neck! Gaaaaaaahhhhh! They all should be smashed with a very large rock. I hate those bastards.
*when asked how long spider season lasts, I was told from snowmelt to snowfall. :eek: I need to get me a new job in a new city.
I don’t go back to work till the first week of September, but I have to start getting ready soon. My room had some remodeling done over the summer and we have to get in and get it cleaned up, and do some rearranging and throwing away. I’ve started having the “When can we get together?” calls with my co-teacher and the other teachers who use the room.
What’s pissing me off? I’ve starting having the boring, mundane work-dreams. I had one last night wherein I was looking for paper to mount some drawings done by the kids. I wanted just the right paper, and couldn’t find 20 sheets all the same. I was wandering from classroom to classroom, and to the supply room and back, looking for 20 sheets of tagboard, all the same size and color. I had one the other night about putting up a bulletin board. All night wasted on stapling up a rainbow boarder and blue background, when I could be dreaming about Johnny Depp.
Kill me now.
I just saw a cashier’s check made out to… “John Doe’s Home Furniturings”
Furniturings? C’mon, people - look at what you’re writing out. The payee is an important part of a check, believe it or not!
grumble, grumble…
I just got back from the grocery store where I stood in line behind a perfectly able-bodied man who watched the check-out girl ring up his groceries one at a time, and then bag his groceries one at a time. He then proceeded to re-pack both bags, complaining all the while.
Hey! Dumbass! If you are so fucking particular, bag your own damn groceries! While I’m at it, everybody needs to bag their own damn groceries, assuming they are able. C’mon people, let’s get this ball rolling!
Cramps and non-progressive contractions that just wake me up in the middle of the night making me wonder if I should time them, then fade before I can. I’m a week away from my due date, and everyone keeps saying “You won’t make it that far”, but right now, I think he’s just messing with me. I’m tired of being pregnant.
In that same vein, family who keeps calling with “Is the baby here yet?”. Okay, do you THINK you wouldn’t have gotten a call if he had arrived?? :rolleyes: Yes, he’s here, I was in the hospital for forty-five minutes, gave birth, and then we decided to come hom. STOP CALLING ME!
Work. Not that I don’t enjoy my job, but I just don’t want to be here. I want to be at home relaxing on the couch and watching bad daytime television.
And the a-holes around here who think a turn signal is optional. USE YOUR FREAKIN’ TURN SIGNAL, jackholes!
E.
Alright, so should I make it an MPEG-2 with a 720x480 res and a PAR of 0.9 or an Xvid with a resolution of 640x480 and a PAR of 1? Or maybe it should be an interlaced Lagarith file–wait, that won’t work, Lagarith won’t encode properly! Not that I know how to interlace it anyways.
Screw it. I’m saving up for a bigger harddrive, making everything uncompressed and whoever wants the file can figure it out for themselves.
The sad thing is I’m actually enjoying trying to figure all this stuff out.
People. Specifically, people who call into my work.
I am not a receptionist. Stop choosing “client services” just to ask to be transferred to someone else. That’s why the option for “reception” exists in our phone system. Use it. Furthermore, everyone has their own extension number. If you’re constantly calling in for that person, learn their damned extension numbre and dial it!
I am not your library. Stop asking me to look up specs, measurements and part numbers because you’re too damn lazy to do it yourself with the lookup system(s) you were forced to get when you became an authorized center.
You have a standard discount structure assigned to your account. It doesn’t change. Therefore, stop asking me to go into your account and check your discount on every. damned. part.
You. Old Man Grease Monkey. If you phone in for something and call me “love” one more time I’m going to whip out my penis and beat you to death with it.
That is all.
Just as well…I’ve been monopolizing his time in my dreams anyway. 
Today is the day of the Company Picnic. One may go, stay at the office, or take a half vacation day. I don’t like company picnics, as I pointed out in the Pit a few weeks ago - they’re hot, boring, and beset with meat wasps. I’m staying in the air-conditioned office today and helping out my three attorneys, and they need me - we’re really busy.
EVERYBODY is coming by my desk and urging me to go to the picnic, or expressing sorrow that I “have to stay behind and work”, or trying to convince me how much fun it’s going to be. I DON’T WANT TO GO. I’ve been to these things before and I never have any fun.
They’ll all leave around 10 a.m., thank God. Get the hell out of my hair and leave me alone!
Just wait. These same people will start in as soon as the baby is born with, “So when are you going to have another one? Elza Junior needs a sibling!”
It should be legal to kill them.
And I love my family. I just don’t love them this week.
Plus, they all think 7 PM is a great time to call. Dude, that’s my Alton Brown time, and if you think I’m going to answer the phone during Alton, you’re wrong 
.
E.
Now that just cracks me up!!
Annoyance #1: I am too nice to tell Chatty Coworker that I don’t want to drive her to work and she should find her own damn ride.
Annoyance #2: I have to go to the dentist tomorrow morning and I don’t want to, but I do want the pain to stop, especially before my vacation.
Annoyance #3: My house is filthy. I feel sometimes like my roommate does no cleaning at all, which I know is not true. Yet, when I decide to clean, she sits and continues whatever she’s doing, rarely getting up to help. I know I shouldn’t expect her to clean when I want to, but I’m annoyed at the fact that I will probably spend my Friday night cleaning, and she will probably spend the evening sitting on the couch with a book. But I know I’m being ridiculous. After all, she does the grocery shopping because I hate it.
Annoyance #4: It’s not even noon. I have run out of work to do, and it’s not even noon. Two hours till lunchtime (at which time I will get to spend half an hour out of the building), and then another three hours before I can go home. All with nothing to do.
Annoyance #5: Me. Today is one of those days when I annoy the crap out of myself.
Give him back! It’s too soon for the boring work-related dreams!
I’d take Orlando Bloom, but I think he’s young enough to be my son. What is he, 21 or so?
Elza B, is the baby here yet???
Does it really matter, as long as he’s over 18?
And according to IMDb, he’s 29–you’re golden.
Too many minor annoyances to report at this time.
Suffice it to say that in front of every silver lining there’s a cloud.
Frickin’ Doctors.
Last week, I’m treated like a major hypochondriac for asking for antibiotics for a UTI. Owie. They put me off until I finally get to pee in a cup. So I spend 3 days on Bactrim. Then the doctor calls me on Monday. “Ummm yeah. That small UTI? It cultured out some bacteria. Actually, a LOT of bacteria. You’ve got a major kidney infection.” So now I’m on 14 days of Cipro. Fourteen Days!
I hate doctors.