This is my problem with it.
If the sharks were not endangered, and were being properly fished for all of their meat, then shark-fin soup would be just another seafood dish. But to pull a creature from the water, lop its fins off, and then throw it back alive, is fucking barbaric IMO.
Do you have pets who’d think something like that is a nifty toy? 
Alternate theory: you have Borrowers.
It’s hard but you have to let it go for your own sanity.
My mom died in June. She was the mom who once yelled at me for three hours because I accidentally broke a glass. She was also the grandmother who only smiled and said nothing when Eldest spent a week in her condo writing on the walls, dropping food on the floor and getting into her makeup.
Some people take longer to grow up. My mom waited until she was 60 before she managed it. Your grandfather might be the same way.
LavenderBlue and Nava, thanks. I think what’s making it so difficult is that my grandpa passed away when I was 13 (I’m 29 now). It’d be one thing if I had experience interacting with him as a fully aware adult, or if I could interact with him now and adjust to that knowledge. But since he died when I was still a kid, all I have are these idealized memories.
I mean, I was really close to all three of my surviving grandparents (my other grandpa died when I was only a few months old). I used to call them all the time and ask to go over and. . .it just sucks, is all. It’s like this piece of my childhood, these memories I thought were good, have been completely shattered. And it makes me feel like shit about the one time my dad was being an ass to me, and I mentioned it to my grandpa, and my grandpa asked to speak to him on the phone. Ten minutes later, my dad was hanging up the phone, and I got an apology.
That was akin to someone calling my dad on me. I feel so guilty.
It’s been a week since I had this allegedly-minor surgery on my foot. I still can’t even get the boot on due to the swelling and pain, so I’m still stuck gimping around on crutches and spending my days lying on my bed with my foot propped on a stack of pillows. I’m bored and tired of gulping ibuprofen and I’m 98% certain that they fucked up the nerve block when they did the procedure because there is no reason whatsoever why, when the surgery required a 1-inch incision just behind my big toe, my heel and ankle are causing me the most pain. So I’m pissed at the surgeon for not being more clear about what to expect, and I’m pissed at myself for expecting to be healing faster.
And I’m getting a stupid fucking sinus thing, which normally I would help by spending lots of time up and moving to keep things draining better, but I can’t exactly go knock out an hour on the elliptical in my current state.
Oh, and fuck you, Hulu, for your little “Need a break?” message. I’m on con leave from work and can’t do shit, thank you for making me feel even worse about the fact that I’m now mainlining old TV shows. Don’t you judge me, Hulu robots.
I object to doing this to any and all organisms.
Exactly. I don’t have a problem with eating meat, but use what you kill, and kill humanely.
That is an ad that is just begging to be made into a meme.
Boy of mine, I love you dearly, and that *just might *be enough to help you live to see another day.
Fuck you car.
Wheels of Misfortune (my 2000 Ford Taurus) is once again going tits-up, this time for good. I have taken that Rube Goldberg study of entropy to the mechanic twice a year since I purchased it, often for the same issue, a shake in the front passenger wheel the goes from mildly annoying to suicidal death trap in a matter of weeks. A month ago the power steering started leaking and it’ll cost me more to fix it than the car is worth, so slowly it has gotten harder and harder to turn and I find myself parking in spots I won’t have to back up from. The elbow on my right arm is beginning to get sore.
I could afford another car, but fuck that, Wheels is worth nothing and if I even gave it to someone else I’d never be able to live with myself. No. I will drive this mechanical abomination down the Green Mile. If it means draining the oil, filling the tank with sugar and lighting the back seat on fire as I wrap the front bumper around a tree I will do it. I will pay for the tow truck with a smile on my face and consider it worth it because then I’ll know the nightmare is over and I will never see that bitch again.
The only consolation at all is parking it too close to nice cars and daring them to scratch their paint on my hooptie’s doors.
Aw, man, here I was, all set to bitch about my car’s AC compressor going tits up (it’s in the low 100s this week) but I, ah, think you got me beat there, Sitnam. At least my car’s been otherwise reliable.
~~ She says, totally jinxing herself … ~~
I’m attempting to ship two suitcases back home to the US. I found a nice company that specialises in sending student luggage with excellent reviews and prices that were only a bit more expensive than paying the ungodly fees for extra airline luggage. I booked shipping with FedEx through them and I was set to have the suitcases collected today. All was well, I thought.
I waited at home all day today. All day. At 2:00 I got a phone call from the FedEx driver, clarifying where my flat is. I will agree that it’s a bit confusing – I live on a tiny dead end street off a main road in a block of student flats with lots of security going on. You can’t get in without an electronic key fob… unless, of course, you buzz the security lodge at the front gate like EVERY OTHER COURIER DOES to get in. Or you could buzz my flat at the gate (or even ring me again in a pinch) to let me know you’re there and I can drag my bags the extra hundred feet from my building’s front door. There are a lot of options, I feel, and none of them are especially unusual. There’s a block of non-student flats right next door with a similar gated setup, even.
Unfortunately, the FedEx driver didn’t do any of these things. He never showed up at all as far as I can tell, despite the call for directions. Argh. I’m moving out on Saturday and I have a lot to do away from the flat between now and then, so I can’t just keep waiting for a collection that may or may not happen.
Not cool, FedEx. Not cool at all. I contacted the company I booked through to get things resorted, but I didn’t really need this extra problem on top of all the other moving stress. Bah.
A THOUSAND YEARS OF DARKNESS!!!
Genetically speaking, Obama is more like a thousand years of twilight. But if that were said about him, it would probably garner him a big bloc of voters.
I have cats but they run away when I rattle the pill bottle at them.
I’ve lost other things to borrowers, probably, because I put some Pop-tarts in a baggie before going out on an errand and never saw them again. I was thinking it might be faeries.
I know absolutely nuthin’ about owning or riding a horse. What am I looking for in those photos?
The goddamned IRS!
We were “audited by mail” for our 2010 taxes once already because of some ridiculously small item relating to adoption expenses. It took 7 months of mailing paperwork back and forth (getting everything from the IRS twice, btw) and at the end of it we received a bill for 31 CENTS!. Ridiculous.
Well, I get home yesterday and they are auditing our 2010 return AGAIN!!! This time claiming my wife took a $42,000 disbursement from her 401(k). Jesus, you jackasses, it was a rollover! The check was never in her name and it shows in both accounts as a rollover. I think we would have noticed if we had an extra $42K laying around the house.
You would think solving this would be easy, but I just know from experience the IRS will drag this out for the next 8 months, making us fill out 65 different forms and other assorted bullshit and sending everything twice.
Nah. Most of 'em are about sixteen.
Oh grrrrrr. The International Workers Day is May the First. Also known as May Day, The Day of the Workers. Workers of the world - Unite! Except in the US of course.
I took a week off last week since I won’t get any opportunity between now and next May. Got a few projects started, didn’t rest much but had a good time Saturday night, Sunday was to be my big treat day, except some idiot clipped my jeep on my way home, I did a 180 only to watch him continue driving up the road. Lucky for me he was not able to regain control of his vehicle and crashed again, this time into a fence. Four people got out and ran!
Idiot came back a few hours later with some cock and bull story and the police took him away. Now the insurance values my vehicle at next to nothing - I will get some money, but it’s not enough to fix my old but never had an accident jeep.
The dog’s in heat and after returning her would-be suitor to his home a few times, well, he just can’t be contained, or kept out of my yard so I now have to do the doggie shuffle each time I open the front door, grab him, put him on a lead, let her out … let her back in, let him off.
So yeah, relaxing week off? No.
Sequential posts for the win! Well, it made me snigger, anyway.
I opened two accounts with the Royal Bank about four months ago. They are both closed now, because of the jerking around that was going on. “Oh, we’ll just waive those fees for you. No problem.” Well, actually, it IS a problem, because I was told one thing and another happened, and I was mislead from Day One. I’m not playing these games any longer. So long, suckers.
would donating it to charity make you feel any better? They specifically ask for vehicles running or not and then you get a tax writeoff and the satisfaction of sending the hooptie to its just reward. I have no idea what the charities do with the cars that don’t run sell for scrap metal?