Make something for dinner for fuck’s sake and get the fuck out of my face. Make ANYTHING for dinner except for fried peppers, and we’ll at least try it. So far you have made polenta, and ravioli with marinara. Give me a recipe and I’ll try to make it because if you get in my face again and start in on me 3 minutes before I cook, I am going to slap the shit out of you.
Tuesday I made soup and you gave me shit about that too, and all you could think to make was grilled chicken. You argued with me as I was finishing one thing and i camethisclose to doing something besides be snarky.
Most every time I cook you give me crap about what I make, especially during the Great Fridge Flake-out of 2011 Cooked the pot-roast and you gave me a hard time… I cooked 95% of the meat in the house so i could put it in the chest freezer, and you whined at me. I heated up some bratwurst on the grill and you talk to me like I can’t boil water.
I am 33 and I have had chores for most of my life, I make dinner, or I HAVE HELPED MAKE DINNER for 20+ years. I have been trusted to clean the fridge since we moved into this house, and that was 22 years ago. I lived by myself and did my own grocery shopping, and packed in supplies for a hurricane before I knew you.
And your son is old enough to make something for dinner, he can use the slow cooker, or cook on his day off but he is old enough to cook at 27. Casseroles made ahead might not be a bad idea.
anya, I spent my youth listening to my dad bitch about my mom’s cooking when he didn’t lift a finger. The hard and fast rule in our house now is no bitching about what I cook unless you want to take over the chore (and my husband is beyond great about this).
“Chili is good when it’s chilly” sounds like a comercial jingle. With maracas.
For an actual minirant, the last two days have been 12h long; I don’t get overtime, but since we’re supposed to work 40h weeks, methinks tomorrow will be very, very short. Yesterday we had to go to another location, bringing our laptops (I didn’t have my case with me, but thankfully my handbag was large enough), spend more than one hour waiting for the people who’d called us urgently, then when we were leaving I did one of my famous Nava All Fours in front of the programmers. Ouchies. Nothing seriously hurt except my pride, but today I’m feeling joints I usually don’t.
I’m working from home today. I’m flying to a conference in a few hours and it doesn’t make sense for me to drive to work and drive back when I have a project I need to sit down and focus on. Which is why it drives me crazy that my husband is getting sentimental on me now and wants to work from home, too, to spend more time with me. Dammit! I’m working. Working. I’m not taking a laptop with me because I’m not going to be gone that long (I probably should, but I really don’t want to), but goddammit, I needed a few hours to sit down and just do this. And I haven’t packed yet, haven’t even showered, and NOW you want to spend time with me?? Grrrr.
Where’s one of those hot flashes when you need one? A nice cool front blew in last night, but our office’s thermostat is still set to “it’s hotter’n Satan’s taint outside.” My thick office cardigan and cozy office blanket aren’t enough. *Waaah *- why can’t I work from home with the windows open? And maybe a [del]whiskey sour[/del] purring kitty next to me?
pout
I know, I know: piddly first-world problems. Sue me.
A staff meting yesterday wrapped with a reminder that the annual United Way campaign is about to begin and that our manager is looking forward to once again achieving 100% participation from this particular site. The site superintendent then jokingly remarked that he’ll be going around to all the site offices with his baseball bat to “encourage” everyone to give generously. Ha ha, very funny, douchebag. It’ll be a cold day in Hell when I knowingly give one penny to the UW. Too bad about your precious 100% compliance record. I haven’t actually had my job threatened yet this year, but I assume that’s coming shortly. Fuckers.
Ow friggin OW!
Listen here, exercise! You and me were just starting to get along after a lifetime of, y’know, NOT getting along. You’re supposed to increase my health, not give me more friggin’ agony! So cut it with the knee pain, then hip pain, now leg pain, all right?
people who have to come up with terms to describe the trivial little things they do so they can feel special. “I’m a locavore.” No, you’re a douche. “I’m a total foodie.” No, you’re a douche.
Ok, clothing manufacturers, time to introduce meaning into your names for things.
I’m shopping online for men’s dress shirts: I know I don’t want “slim fit” or “tapered fit.” I also know I don’t want “relaxed fit” or “el gordo fit.” I just want a normal shirt for a normal-sized guy.
But all I see is a list of shirt styles that look like a loquacious haberdasher got a thesaurus for Christmas:
Classic fit
Traditional fit
Regular fit
Standard fit
Customary fit
Popular fit
Everyday fit
Ordinary fit
Common fit
Normal fit
Sanctioned fit
Taken for granted fit
Widely used fit
Conventional fit
Accustomed fit
Middle-of-the-road fit
Timid fit
Undaring fit
Same old fit
Shirt fit
WTF?!?!? These words are all basically synonyms for each other!! What does all this shit MEAN??
I was watching a new TV show - New Girl - today and while the show itself was kind of meh the one really amusing point was the douchebag jar. Just like a swear jar every time one guy talked like a douche his roomies grabbed the jar and made him put money into it
You’re SOL if you’re shopping someplace like Target, but a midscale department store or better should have employees in the menswear section who can help you figure it out. They usually also come equipped with tape measures to help you size your shirts (and other things) properly.
