I pulled something in my back doing jumping jacks. If it’s not better by the morning I won’t be able to go to the gym.
I’m having an attack of what my dear old dad calls “the running carbolic shits”. Now I understand the running reference, but I had to look up “carbolic” to understand the true meaning. At any rate, I can’t go anywhere or do anything until the Imodium kicks in…Whoops! Gotta go!
I got to see the Orioles win on a grand slam in the ninth today. Funny thing, at the bar I went to after the game, nobody else was as excited as I was. They all seemed to be bothered that the Rockies lost on a grand slam in the ninth.
I’m going to spend my 18th birthday in a car that’s being driven across Missouri.
It’s a warm night and I have to shut the window because my neighbor across the way is running a fucking grinder that throws an earsplitting shriek. Even then it’s inconsistent; he’ll leave it off for ten minutes, and when I think he’s finally done and open the window he’ll start up with the goddamned thing again.
For your sake Lynn, I hope that’s a joke.
Wimbledon has started, and consequently it’s cats and dogs outside for the first day in weeks. Why? WHY!!!??
I blew it with a cute German girl who chatted me up in a pub. (On the second date, not when she was chatting me up.) What a :wally .
I have clients who are fucking pinheads.
Car company X hires advertising agency Y to make a print advertisement for one of their cars. Ad agency Y subcontracts it to the agency I work at because frankly, the guys at Y don’t have the creative juices to fill a Dixie cup.
We spent over a week coming up with design and slogan ideas. Most of this time was spent in meetings with the ‘creative’ team at agency Y that lasted until well past midnight. Had the meetings actually produced anything, it wouldn’t have been so bad, but each night consisted of all our ideas immediately being rejected, followed by five hours of listening to their team leader (a native English speaker in love with SAT words he can’t even pronounce, let alone use properly) try to break his personal record for most contradictions in a creative briefing. Finally, we reached a consensus and presented it to X. X liked it.
But…
As we were wrapping up the meeting at X, one of the geniuses from Y (whose ideas up to this point ranged between uninspired and brain damaged) tried to say “so we’re all set on this ad, then?” What actually came out of his mouth, however, was “You’re sure you don’t want something different?” This shook the confidence of the rep from X just enough that he decided he wanted us to go back and do it all again. The elevator doors hadn’t even closed before everyone from both agencies started screaming at him for being such a motherfucking idiot. His own boss hit him over the head at least four times on the way back to the office.
So here we are back at square one. And genius-boy is going to be reeeeal quiet if he knows what’s good for him.
I’m taking an internet-based summer class with the lectures as sound files. Now, this sounds pretty good… except:
- The sound files are in streaming RealPlayer format, not downloadable.
- The sound files are embedded in pdf files.
- The lectures are divided into ridiculously small segments. We’re talking 19 seconds for the smallest and 3 minutes for the largest. Sometimes it takes longer to open the file than it takes to listen to it.
But worst of all, the answers to my questions about this setup make no fucking sense.
Why is it streaming?, asks I.
Because we sometimes need to update the files, says them.
Huh?, says I.
Why are the files divided into miniscule sound bites?, asks I.
Because the students prefer to take the lectures in small pieces, says them. It’s easier to handle for them.
They have no pause button?, says I. They usually have real-life lectures three minutes long?, says I.
Why can’t we just get the lecturers’ scripts available in plain text form?, asks I. We get exactly the same information but it’s easier for us and much cheaper and easier for you.
Thanks for the feedback, says them. We’ll consider your viewpoints for the next course.
Aaaaargh!
My morning started out just peachy! I go to work and what’s the first thing I find? A fuckin’ (obligatory fuck outta the way now) dead bird! I am 99.99999% sure the bird bought it from flying into the glass on the side of the door. We have birds who commit suicide like that regularly. However, since I didn’t see that, I have to assume the worst, west nile virus, so I call the Health Department. Guess what? They don’t remove the birds they just record that one was found! Their suggestion? Scoop the bird up with a shovel and throw it in the dumpster. :rolleyes:
Employees. Staff. Whining. Bitching. Complaining. Staff. Just damn stop it already! It ain’t gonna get ya anywhere! Well, at least not anywhere but the employment office if you don’t just. damn. stop. it! When will people learn that all they need to do is their jobs! I don’t want any more pisant whiny excuses why stuff can’t get done! Hell, if you can spend time sitting around each others desks gossiping, you can find time to get your work done. Apparently, the fact that two people have been fired for that exact reason has no effect. Sigh I don’t wanna be the boss no more! Sigh
To the critter (mole? chipmunk?) that’s been digging in my garden. You’ve already eaten a zucchini plant right down to a nub and now you’re working on a pepper plant.
I’m gonna get you BUT GOOD! Sooner or later you’ll get yours! Oh yes, I have an environmentally friendly and nontoxic way of ending your nibbling days (rat trap). And hey, it’s made in the gold old USofA too!
Bicyclists. On winding, blind-curve, narrow country roads. Who ride abreast. And stay abreast even with a car patiently creeping behind them, waiting for a safe chance to pass without (a) having a head-on collision or (b) sweeping the road clear of two-wheelers.
Lately I’ve been thinking (b) ain’t such a bad idea.
:mad:
I wish this damn cough would go away. The rest of the cold has gone away but for the last week I keep getting coughing spells. Sometimes it feels like I’m trying to hack up a lung. I’ve tried cough drops and Chloraseptic, but it keeps coming back. I may actually resort to making an appointment to see my doctor, which will probably make the cough stop the day of the appointment.
My dog. My big, beautiful overgrown Malamute puppy who has discovered the fun and joy of digging under the fence and escaping out of a brand-new $800 large, spacious “un-escapable” dog pen. We had 5 ft fences installed because I thought he might try to climb them. Nope, instead he dug under the buried fence. We’ve tried everything–tent stakes, timbers lined up along the fence line, concrete blocks, concrete poured in the holes, everything. He finds a way around it all.
Dear, sweet overgrown oaf–you get plenty of love and attention at home, why must you wander? I’d venture a guess that you are most likely the most spoiled dog in the entire neighborhood. And also, that big grumpy old Husky down the street? He does NOT want to play. He’s trying to kill you not play with you. Stop visiting him every time you escape.
Umm… Kal… just how much wanking do you do?! I mean CTS and a trapped ulnar nerve!! You should give the poor thing a rest occasionally! 
I pit my car’s gas cap: Damn you, intolerant piece of plastic! I spend more time trying to screw you in properly than I do pumping gas! You will not seat properly unless I spend far too much time fiddling with you. Your threads are too steep or too wide or something. I hope whoever engineered you has one just like you!
Also, I’d like to pit clothing stores in California. I had to fly to Texas to find clothing that fit, that looked good, that fit my needs, and that was vaguely affordable. I found it in five minutes. That’s after four years of living in California without finding one single place I could go to and reliably find clothing I wanted to buy.
I pit people who don’t realize that bicyclist have the right to one FULL AND COMPLETE lane. NOT one half of a lane, NOT one quarter of a lane, NOT one eighth of a lane. But GODDAMMIT… ONE FULL LANE.
Unless there is a new law somewhere that says bicycles are not allowed on the road, I am entitled to my goddam lane whether you are late or not. Leave earlier if you are in that much of a fucking hurry.
Oh, this is my everyday-not-just-today rant. Other than that, life is good.
Surb, did you miss the part of ETF’s post about narrow winding blind country roads, and double riding? Roads around here ** are ** one lane. As far as I know, bicyclists have never been allowed to block traffic (not that you’d live very long trying it.) In Massachusetts, slower vehicles are required to keep right.
And riding abreast has ** never ** been kosher bike etiquette, no matter how wide your damned lane is – Massachusetts law specifically prohibits it.
Not minor, but my beloved, gorgeous dog has to go into the vet’s tomorrow for a full day test for Cushing’s Disease. She seems perfectly healthy and happy right now but the disease could mean really, really bad news for her. I’m scared to death and trying not to think about losing her.
In good news, the weather was cool, dry and beautiful here. It finally didn’t pour rain on a weekend. The bad news was that I was finally able to weed the flower and tomato/herb gardens–and the constant rain spawned clouds of mosquitos. Even using slathers of bug spray I’m covered with itching, burning bites. Grrrr. (And of course it’s raining—again. Happy Monday morning!)
A local professional agitator is trying to whip up a totally stupid, baseless controversy about my library. It won’t amount to anything but it means making tons of phone calls, etc. to head off the attack. A lot of effort and hassle, just because of one person’s thirst for personal publicity.
And the high pollen count is killing my sinuses. I’m headachey, tired, hurting and generally would prefer to slap silly anyone who gives me anymore grief.
Whining,
Veb