Game of Thrones fans need to shut the fuck up about ‘Spoilers’. Every GoT article on the web is prefaced with about fifteen spoiler warnings and it’s getting right on my tits. Here’s an idea, if you haven’t seen the show then don’t fucking Google Game of Thrones! It’s gotten to the point where hearing entitled assholes whining about spoilers is about a thousand times more irritating than actually having something spoiled for you. Fuck off!
Everybody dies.
Thanks so much for the suggestion. I guess every couple needs help at some point or another, even if it’s just talking to each other.
I have yet another rant.
My brother in law, who has a two year old son, keeps giving me parenting advice on my 7 year old and 4 year old. Yes, my husband is too strict with my son and his expectations are out of line. We actually went to a family therapist to level set about that. However, having someone keep telling me we’re doing it wrong isn’t helpful. Especially not when they don’t have my kids. I don’t have his kids, which is my advice is limited to when it’s solicited.
PLUS, he is constantly telling me about how much more awesome than me my sister is. “she had a job while she was getting her masters!” Yes, I know. I also had a job. Three of them. “she’s suffered so much!” Like it’s a badge of honor. Yes, I know. We all have, some more than others, and I’m sorry for all you’ve had to deal with. “You’ve never truly known loss.” Oh? Really? The pregnancy I lost and almost dying a couple of years ago? Perhaps losing a very close friend to cancer last year wasn’t enough? How much is “enough” loss for you, dear brother in law? How much do I have to lose before you deem me worthy of the things I have?
People who use their loss like a badge of honor piss me off. People who measure others by said loss piss me off more. The reason you don’t know of my loss is that I don’t trumpet it from the rooftops. Oh and by the way, all those jobs you keep refusing that pay well but don’t have just the right job title? Maybe you should take one so my sister can catch a break. Stop complaining about how much she works when you haven’t been employed for almost 3 years because you keep fucking refusing well-paying jobs that don’t have just the “right” title for your MBA.
And fuck off. I’ll be nice to you because you’re my sister’s husband and I love her and her son very much. But you can go shove your head up your ass.
First everybody fucks, then everybody dies. It’s like you’re not even trying to get it right. :mad:
Ah, he’s an MBA. Nuff said. 
Rants? Hell yes…
Just in the past week:
My younger cousin/roomie had her car hit on the side by some dipshit at her college.
My older cousin/other roomie nearly got creamed last night by an idiot neighbor of ours in an SUV; he was going 60mph on our street and then he hit my friend’s transformer pole and knocked out the power in the entire tract. The fucker is apparently out on bail for now.
Just a few days ago: I had a massive sewer line mess, broken and corroded pipes, rotted out pipes, tree root intrusion, mud backed up in the tub. It took 6 plumbers a total of 13 hours and 4 trucks to fix everything. They jackhammered part of the bathroom floor, which will now have to be entirely replaced.
Hoo boy - that’s the point where you start thinking it’s time to sell the house and just walk away. :eek:
Just a small observation, but it sounds like he already has.
“Your proctologist called, they found your head.”
Missy2U got it right. I don’t own a machine capable or sewing sails. By hand the needle is driven through the sailcloth using an “Iron Palm”. It’s how the sailing craft of yore did it.
:looks down pants: Yep, still a guy!
Also: my mom’s retirement home was stricken with norovirus–only 6 residents affected but all were quarantined for 3 days.
I hate my body sometimes. Why does “four-day weekend” signal a great time to get sick? I requested Friday and today off, so of course I’ve been sick with a cough and sinus stuff since Friday (and frankly, I’m worried I won’t be much better when I go back to work tomorrow). In July I took a four-day weekend and got a migraine every time I dared to eat all four days. Body, why can’t you just be happy not to be working, dammit?
Met up with a college buddy this weekend. Well, technically, he’s the late The Other Shoe’s college buddy – they were roommates in architecture school, but we all became pretty close when TOS and I got together. Old College Buddy and his wife now have three children under the age of four. Which is fine. Here’s my rant:
They’ve become Those Parents. :mad:
They called me because they were going to be near-ish to me on Sunday and would I like to meet up? Hell, yes, I would – I’m way too lazy to drive the nearly 2 hours to see them, but if they’re going to be in MY city anyway? OK. Their values and morals have diverged from ours over the years, and frankly we don’t have all that much in common anymore besides shared history, but if nothing else, I’ve continued our friendship for TOS’s sake.
Long story short, we went out for a bite to eat at a chain Mexican place that’s known for being family-friendly i.e. you can get paper menus and crayons when you get your table. Their three kids proceeded to make an ENORMOUS mess of the entire table. The one-year-old, I get: he’s still teething, in a high chair, etc. No problem there.
But the 2.5 and nearly-4-year-old? Jumping up and down on the booth seats, bothering the next-booth-over-eaters ON BOTH SIDES of us, yelling, squirming away to run up the aisle etc. etc. etc. Neither of the two older kids minds their parents at all. As in, doesn’t even notice when they’re being reprimanded or even spoken to. “Honey, daddy’s going to give you a spanking. You don’t want a spanking now, do you?” “Sweetie, I’m going to call the Easter bunny!” I heard the Easter bunny threat easily a half-dozen times in less than the hour it took to eat … how many times has that kid heard it already? No wonder it holds no threat. Neither kid seems to have any concept of discipline (not even in an age-appropriate way) or any desire to please their parents, to follow any rules … nuthin.’
The whole time, both College Buddy and his wife were all, “Isn’t it nice coming to these family places? They don’t even mind the mess kids make!” 
Leaving and saying our good-byes in the parking lot the kids were RUNNING AROUND uncontrollably (“Honey, come back here!”) when there’s a major 3-lane road just a few feet away. WTeverlovingF?
I came home completely unable to parse how to feel about something she had told me about a previous incident, posted to the Dope about it for perspective, wandered agitatedly around the empty apt. for a few minutes, then spoke aloud to the still, quiet air:
“Hey, sweetest? I know we’ve been friends with them for a long time. I know you two go way back. But I don’t think I can be friends with them anymore. I’m sorry.”
Double-posting because I’m upset enough about two different and unrelated items that I deem them each deserving of their own separate post:
So after TOS died I started attending a grief support group for young widows. There were three of us widows in this particular group, “T.” and “S.” and I, and we got pretty close. Among other things, we have many factors in common: we all lost our husbands within a few months of each other, his illness was a big aspect in each of our losses, we’re all in our 30s, etc. etc. Even after the formal meetings ended, we all met up informally occasionally with each other, sent supportive texts/emails, answered Qs for each other since we all seem to have parts of the puzzle but not the whole thing, and just generally banded together against The Big Bad World That Took Our Beloveds. We made plans to go to Vegas this summer together, since T and I have never been and S is something of a veteran gambler. We got together to play blackjack on Valentine’s Day evening (the 1st without our respective beloveds for each of us) at S’s home, and we cried to, for, and at each other.
Except … S. has been incommunicado for close to two weeks now. It’s a fine line to cross, between giving someone space (T and I have both also had bad times where we just wanted to be left the holy fuck alone and hide under the covers) and leaving them to their own devices and/or to the vagaries of The Big Bad World. At first, it wasn’t much: I texted her when I spontaneously went out for dinner, just in a “Hey, no pressure, if you feel like having dinner with me I’ll be at such-and-such” place where I knew S. often went to eat anyway, and got no responses. Then I sent her a couple of “Hey, you OK?” texts and emails. Left a voice message. Left another one. T. has been looking for her on Facebook, and texting/calling/emailing as well.
So far, that’s all easily-ignored electronic communication, so last night I simply drove over to S’s home. Her car was in front of the house, but nobody answered the door when I rang and knocked. I left an old-fashioned paper-and-pen note in her mailbox, and now … I’m out of ideas. Her car could be there because she went out with friends and they picked her up, of course. But to ignore both T. and me for so long now is just not like her. I think. The last time T. saw her at one of the ongoing grief network events (I’ve been skipping those) she admitted to me that S. just “didn’t seem like herself.” But of course, that’s the kind of thing that’s easy to say after the fact.
I’m worried about S. and I’m sad for her. I hope she’s okay, but … I just don’t know.
For the love of all that is Holy…CLEAN YOUR GODDAMNED GYM BAG.
I was nearly knocked over by the mildew stench. If you have a sense of smell, there is no way you did not notice this. I have expelled better smelling things out of my ass!
That’s a whole lotta suck, purplehorseshoe. 1, I don’t blame you at all for suspending your friendship with people who you have nothing in common with (and they sound like jerks out in public, too).
2, I don’t think there’s much more you can do; you can try to get a wellness check on S’s house by the police, saying you suspect she might have hurt herself and is dead inside the house, but she also might have just gone home to her parents for a couple of weeks and pulled the hole in after her. Hey, that’s an idea - can you get in touch with her parents and ask them to just let you know that she’s alright?
After trying two more times, I gave up and printed a return to file the old fashioned way. The problem is that I was SO excited to be done with the damnable thing that I didn’t think about signing it.
:smack:
Probably not, but do you have any means of contacting one of S’s family members? Through Facebook perhaps?
Please keep us posted. And best thoughts to you as well.
Didn’t snip because all of this is right.
This is a whole bunch of suck.
I sent you a mental hug when I read your spoiler, and my allergies are acting up.
Hey, how’s Al? What did the vet say? Don’t reply if the answer will depress you even more, but do know that some internet stranger is pulling for your kitteh.
Thanks, all. I really needed to vent, and I feel better today. Unfortunately, S’s family is all dead, one of many more reasons we were worried about her; in the past half-dozen years she’s lost both her parents, both her in-laws, her husband, a few close friends, and most recently a cousin. However, she owns a family home out in the boonies in … VA? WV? something like that, and T. and I suspect she went there for R&R. If so, it would explain her being tough to reach electronically (poor signals) and while I wish she’d, yanno, told us that’s what she was going to do if that’s what she did I guess it may have been a spontaneous thing. (She did call me once asking if I wanted to go to Vegas that weekend with her that Friday night.)
Al seems to be feeling better, though he’s lost a tremendous amount of weight: just under 11 lbs. when he used to be over 19 lbs. So terribly skinny 
… so he’s just ***loving ***the fact that he gets treats galore and has gotten quite rude about insisting on getting offerings of little nibbles of my dinner! The vet gave me a course of antibiotic pills, which seemed to help quite a bit. Unfortunately, I still find (sorry, non-pet people!) small piles of quite runny poops outside the litter box, but at about 15 years of age and half his usual body weight I didn’t exactly expect them to be Magic Turn-Him-Back-Into-A-Kitten pills. But he seems comfortable, he purrs and demands scritches and treats and meals on time, so that’s pretty much his usual self, and that’s the best I can expect.
I wish I could tell College Buddy and his wife how utterly rude and entitled they act and how completely fucked their parenting is, but I suspect I’d have as much success as I would holding a dog-training class at my apt. complex for all the completely untrained chihuahua mixes running loose through the parking lot** yapping and running away while their owners murmur “Bad Boopsie! Bad puppy!” so I guess I’ll just have to let that friendship quietly fade away.
** Hey, I just noticed a parallel! 
Yeah, that’ll probably get you nothing but an explanation of how their kids should be allowed to run free and bother everyone else everywhere, and you’re not a parent anyway, so why don’t you just mind your own business?
I’ve done that. They’ll just send it back with a “hey, you forgot to sign!” letter and a helpful sticker pointing to the signature line. As long as you make a good faith effort to file on time, I doubt they’ll hit you with penalties (and if you don’t owe anything, there are no penalties anyway).
Still a pain in the ass, I know.