It is remarkable how big a failure it is. So much money, so much time, so many attempts to correct, all for the worlds most expensive tourist attraction. A monument to poor planning and execution.
Sign update: someone repositioned the sign so that the lower part isn’t visible from the road. Fortunately, traffic was light today, so I was able to pull over on the way home. Enjoy.
Jesus Christ. My wife can fuck up a frozen pizza. It boggles my mind that a woman with three degrees can’t read simple instructions.
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Luggage I bought on line from Kohl’s went on sale this week. Almost 30 bucks off more…ok in the past they have credited the difference if it was in a certain amount of time. Took the receipt and the price of the mark Dow to store. Nope won’t do it…ok customer service said buy the sale one and return the non sale one WTF:confused:. I called and was told the same thing. How foolish is that? There was no valid reason they could credit my account without that run around. So finally CS talked to some one and I got the credit. Now waiting for it to show up on mr CC.
I got a couple of frozen pizzas a while back that said in big blue letters:
PIZZA MUST BE COOKED THOROUGHLY TO 160ºF
FOR FOOD SAFETY & QUALITY.
DO NOT ALLOW PIZZA TO THAW.
Yes, I knew what they meant, but still.
In a GQ thread:
Was this an attempt to threadshit?
You know, much simpler than extincting two species of megafauna would be just extinguishing this kind of thinking. What a smug…what word can I use here…human urethra Darren Garrison came off as here.
I’m chalking it up to hyperbole. Like in threads about movies or something similar people say “You couldn’t PAY me enough to watch that movie!” when of course someone could pay them enough.
My TV died today. So now I have to fight the Black Friday crowds if I want to watch TV over the next few days. Could it not have died last weekend?
Does Amazon have drone delivery service for 50" LCD TVs yet? :). OTOH, maybe I’ll finish that book I’ve been reading and can never seem to find time for.
Oh My God, Thanksgiving is a complete and total cluster-fuck!
No details to follow…
At my wife mrs.gnu’s one year review at her job as payroll coordinator, she was given a $2/hour raise. The people in HR threw a fit and convinced the CEO to overrule it down to $1. Shitty, but worse is that the same day that CEO gave her a Thanksgiving basket of food for “working long hard hours” and “being under financial stress.”
Fortunately, after a week (and her boss fighting back a little), the original raise was restored.
I promise the CEO wasn’t Mr. Shirley from Christmas Vacation or Michael Scott or Bill Lumbergh.
The other delightful thing about selling Frazier Fur’s is that the species of fir native to the Appalachian Mountains, Abies fraseri, is called the Fraser fir, named after the Scottish botanist John Fraser. One marvels that the sign writer (and, no doubt, Trump voter) was able to get the necessary help to spell “Appalachian” correctly, which must have been a monumental effort for them, but even so, they goofed with “Mountains” which clearly should be “Mountain’s”. One can see the correct usage in this example of the proper use of possessives: “The Appalachian Mountain’s Frazier Fur’s mange is getting worse”.
My mini-rant: I am the hunted and if people don’t stop talking to me and touching me I will personally build a soundproof closet to put them in, stuff them in, lock it and throw away the key.
Here’s my (too long and lame) tale of woe. Thanksgiving is over, I slip off for some quiet time after having spent about 4 hours cooking. The kids find me and drape themselves across me and immediately begin talking, asking questions about the ebook I’m reading, which isn’t appropriate for them, so I turn it off. I’m sitting there, casting about for a nice way to express my desire to be alone and my son starts playing with my hair, my daughter starts rubbing my face and breathing her nasty post-Thanksgiving breath into my nostrils and both are talking incessantly.
I explain that I’m getting stressed and could really use some personal space and that it helps me recharge and I’m going to get seriously cranky in a few minutes if I don’t get to chill for a bit on my own. “Personal space” to them means move about 3 feet away and start yelling at each other. Well, fuck a duck.
I pick up some crochet work I’d been doing and start doing that. After all, it’s not a screen they can be distracted by, nothing particularly interesting to them. Yet my 12-year old son wanders over and starts watching, my 9 year old daughter perches her tiny butt on the arm of my chair, gets handsy with the work in my hands and BOTH start talking at me, telling on each other for whatever they’d been doing to annoy each other.
I tell them firmly I need space and call my husband for backup because I am about to snap like a damn rubber band. He helpfully walks in, throws himself down on the couch next to me and immediately begins asking question after question about crocheting. When he starts picking at my sweater, asking whether it’s crocheted or knitted (it’s commercially produced so I have no fucking idea), I smile and go to the bathroom, taking my ebook with me. About 1-2 minutes later while I’m brushing my teeth and reading (I wrongfully thought, “Ahh, quiet. Sweet, sweet silence.”) when my husband knocks on the door to ask me how to clean the roasting pan. For what it’s worth, you clean the damn pan like you clean any other pan, it’s just larger and you have to dump any chunks into the trash before you wash it. The kids test the door knob because it’s fucking hilarious and start arguing because someone pushed someone else.
Fast forward a few more hours of this later. Finally, the kids are in bed, so I walk into the bedroom (alone!), shut the door and lay down with my ebook. My husband walks in, throws himself down on the bed, nudges my book out of the way with his (unshowered) head, starts kissing me then wants to talk about the stock market.
Well before the end of this story, I would have been sitting in Starbucks with my ebook and my crocheting, finishing a project, reading a book, and sipping a cappuccino all at the same time. I would tell no one which Starbucks I was going to.
overlyverbose, I can only recommend duct tape and superglue.
If I was in your shoes, I would be pricing woodchippers…
I was going to express my displeasure at the moldy mini block of cheese that was in the gift I ordered from swiss colony … but overlyverbose’s post makes me wonder if I want a spouse kids ever ……
Dammit, our elderly kitty just had a seizure. My husband has him at the emergency vet now.
My inlaws are gracious hosts. They expect us to treat their home as our own, which is wonderful. But they’ve got this quirk.
My MIL talks about how furniture placement makes a room look bigger. Yes, it does, and it’s a great idea when you’re trying to sell your house. But for everyday living, you don’t need to cram the bed so close to the far wall that one can barely squeeze in the space. In both of their spare bedrooms, I’d guess there’s all of 8", maybe 9", meaning when you get into or out of bed, you’re dragging the drapes with your butt as you pass the window. Meanwhile, there’s acreage between the door and the near side of the bed.
yeah, I know, it’s a small and petty thing, but one can only whack one’s toes so many time before it becomes a big thing. I think I can handle it for one more night…
I’m so sorry; hope things turned out ok.
Don’t worry. Many of us have kids that understand boundaries (and think “Guess we don’t want mom going insane and screaming at us”). Partially because they can’t wait to get some Alone Time of their own.
With our family it’s “Hey, kids, the guests are here.” “I’m in my room.” “That’s why I’m talking at your door. Want to come down and say hi?” “Why?” “Ummm, you got me there… I’ll call you down when we start appetizers.”
Guests, after half an hour: “Great house but… didn’t you say you have kids?” “Yeah, occasionally…”
Thank you for taking and sharing the picture of the sign so that we can all enjoy the details of the sale. However, if the Fraziers have mange, I’m afraid I’ll have to pass on buying any of the furs.