The SSA needs some sensitivity training.
Yes, I know that people try to defraud the system. But, when you have a young woman sobbing uncontrollably in your office because her ex-husband and the father of her 8 year old son just died very unexpectedly, could you please try to NOT treat her like a criminal?
The most important events in her life revolved around that man. He was her first love. She still loves him, even though they were divorced. She is dealing with her own grief while trying to be strong for her son and ex-mother in law. She feels total sadness for his girlfriend, who tried to save him but couldn’t. She doesn’t understand how this could happen but she knows she needs to be strong for her son and she has adult responsibilities that she must take care of. One of those things is social security. Believe me, she didn’t want to be in your office today. She would much rather that he was still here, pissing her off. She doesn’t deserve to be treated like crap because you hate your job and you think that everyone who walks through your door is lazy trash.
Cat, quit eating the pet grass and then barfing it right back up. No more grass for you!
There’s a lady at work who has a new perfume that smells like old urine. So gross.
ETA: Also, me sitting at a table in the cafeteria quietly reading my book on break is not an invitation for you to come have a loud cellphone conversation right near me. Piss off.
Miss Letizia Ortiz (now known as HRH Letizia Ortiz) famously told her fiancée “please let me do my own talking” during the interview in which they announced their engagement. That alone was enough to get her several million fans, people were cheering at the telly.
Do not come visit Tudela, Navarra, Spain… well, pretty much any time in the year except maybe the dead of winter. There’s several buildings which have lots of tiny windows on one side: the doves love those spots. COO COO COO COO… splat ¡Joder! ¡La puta! ¡Ossssssssssstia copón! flutter of wings… COO COO COO COO…
overly, do not kill your mom. Remember that your kid needs you and your husband likes having you around. But I think a week and a half is both too much and too undefined. My mother has been known to come for “a week” which turned out to be 11 days long, despite the definition of “a week” being “7 days” for any purpose known to man or woman except, apparently, “visiting your daughter”. I know she’s not the only one who’s done that.
And remember, that line “you owe me your life”? It’s not legally enforceable and doesn’t mean “with interest”!
Once again I am up at 4am because of my hip. This is two months now. Yeah, three weeks ago the urgent care doc said “if it doesn’t improve in a week, see a regular doctor”. Look, I have lived this week on about $10 and have about $20 till next Friday when I get paid again. I’ll go to the doctor again the following Monday for more stuff I cannot really afford.
I’m not looking for more drugs. I just want this to fucking heal. I want to sleep through the night.
I am here to rant about a parental unit too but first I have to stop and address this. I was in Boscov’s the other day, looking for a wallet without a change purse (ALL of them have one attached. I did not find it). About 50 yards away from me a woman pulled out a cell phone - seriously, she was all the way on the other side of the purses and on the other side of the shoes - and began calling someone named “Dolores” and telling her there were these great purses on sale, and did she want her to pick one up? Yes, they were just really cute. Yeah, Dolores could just pay her back later. Yes, they were in different colors. Brown or green? Sure. Yes, she’d love to pick one up for her.
I could hear every word of her conversation as if she was standing right next to me! I hate people who cannot maintain appropriate cell phone conversations. I shot her a few irritated looks but people like that never care.
So. My dad called me last night. He is staying with my cousins and called me to tell me that he needs to move out NOW NOW NOW (they asked for more money). So could I look for an apartment in Albany for him? I am deeply resentful of this.
I don’t want him here. I spent years pining for a dad and had none and now I don’t want or need one anymore. Especially one that does nothing. I mean, he doesn’t even watch TV - he expects us to sit and listen to him, and not talk. I won’t. I don’t intend to see him every week or every month.
I have a long and complicated relationship with my dad and it pisses me off that he has just defaulted to “That is my daughter and she is there to serve”. Fuck that. I already found him a Hindi-speaking real estate agent, call her! Why do I have to do it?
I hate looking for an apartment for myself! I would never choose to do it for someone else!
Also, any woman who use the term ‘boobies’ to refer to her breast implants. (Apparently this is pronounced buh-bies by people from New Jersey. Not that I saw the first season of New Housewives of New Jersey and then had to scrub my brain…)
What are you: twelve and snickering in health class? You get botox and have teenagers of your own! Any woman who uses this term should have her breast implants deflate.
Ugh, my SIL does this, and she also calls people “Buby” or however you spell that. Bubie? I hate it no matter what. Now her four year old is also saying it.
I find lorikeets to be beautiful and charming, but I’ve only seen them at the zoo, at a more reasonable hour of the day. I’m sure that if they woke me up at waytooearly AM, that they would lose their charm very quickly.
I don’t know. It’s possible. Whatever it is, it rankles on my nerves, as does her laugh. She is one of those people that MUST draw attention to herself, whereever she goes.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Papa-ji, but I don’t know the first thing about apartment-hunting! I’ve had to get help with all of mine. Here’s the contact info for that nice Hindi-speaking real estate agent again.” Repeat as many times as necessary for it to sink in.
Another rant: In addition to the census, I just had to fill out an American Community survey from the federal government. It was another one of those delightful, “You are required by law to fill it out in no more than X days,” only it asked all kinds of detailed question on the cost of our mortgage, utility payments and income. It was invasive as hell, a PITA to complete and although it indicated that we were randomly selected, the cynical part of me (which is the primary part of me) thinks we got it because of a combination of the racial makeup of our household, the fact that my husband hasn’t yet applied for citizenship and our income.
Goddamn it, you have our information from the IRS - can’t you get it there? I’d be happy to tell you how much my mortgage is and the cost of our utilities, but asking for income and asset details was too much.