Rhymers don’t do mini-rants. We either suffer stoically through our mild vexations or chop off heads. You would know this if you had ever bothered to read the SkaldFaq. 
Anyway, rage, revenge, venomous acid-spitting chipmunks, all the usual crap.
Well, if the Fates are with you, this one will sink and Cat Whisperer’s nearly-five-months-old New Year’s mini-rants thread will continue into the summer.
It’s not lookin’ good, though, I gotta tell ya.
I know. I’m pissed off that I’m not pissed off enough to go into a murderous fury and, I don’t know, drop Twix into the pit of Glenn Beck clones or something. But the teleport remote control is all the way across the room, damn it!
The neighbor’s cat. It keeps just walking right into the house and pissing off our cats. Walks around like it owns the place, and even eats our catfood. The hose came out tonight, we’ll see if that teaches him something.
Back in October my employer told us that, because of the economy and money being tight blah blah blah, we would not be getting any raises or bonuses then (October is the usual cycle), that instead we would be getting reviewed in April. Well, we have been paid for April and regarding raises, bonuses, or reviews…nada, no communication, no nothing. Pisses me right off!
I made a lasagne and a huge pot of spaghetti sauce today. Also banana bread. And went to the Beer Store and bought a 2-4, and we are watching hockey. (My idea) Or rather I am. My boyfriend is on his computer, (laptop) at his desk, piddling around with mah-jong and reading email. Instead of curling up on the couch and boinking me in gratitude during the intermisions. I mean about 8 weeks a year I want to watch hockey and he is playing Mah-jong? (Okay he doesn’t really like hockey, he cheers for the NY Islanders, but still…)
What does a red blooded Canadian woman have to do to get laid around here?* grumble stomp why honey NOTHING is wrong, why do you ask?*
It might teach him to put the lotion on the skin…
Having to write two major papers that are going to have to be fast, sloppy, and awful, because I need an Incomplete to not turn into an F.
HA ha - you’re doing mini-rants!
Please let the driver do the driving. Please let the cook do the cooking. Please believe that, at the old age of forty-two, I am able to clothe myself.
Oh, and grandparents: will you please die before I do? Thank you.
My home is being invaded! First, I kill not one but TWO gigantic, huge, e-NORmous spiders in the office this morning (really, these suckers were big. Like, the size of the palm of my hand. I’m normally a live-and-let-live kind of gal when it comes to spiders - scoop them up and put them outdoors - but not when they’re big enough to open the door and come back in!)
And then, this afternoon, I walk outside and there’s an old man walking through the yard. Complete stranger, neatly dressed, says “hello” and be-bops through the yard as though he belonged there… Odd. (My house is surrounded on three sides by woods, and the frontage is on a major US highway with no sidewalk. We’re literally the last house on the way out of town, so it’s not like my yard is an obvious cut-through or shortcut to anywhere. Kids don’t cut through, so I certainly didn’t expect random old men to loiter and trespass here!) But the over-protective dog didn’t seem to think today’s Random Old Guy was a threat. He just stood and watched him walk on into the woods…
(And yes, regarding the latter, I have been monitoring the news - and have my husband monitoring the police channels - to make sure there’s not an Alzheimer’s patient missing.)
Argh. This. Some nitwit lets his intact tomcat roam the neighborhood, and the brazen bastard digs in my garden beds and has agitated our younger cat into spraying inside.
Also, a hearty fuck-you to the eternally-absent neighbors who leave their pygmy goat outside all day with a soup-cup of water in an southwestern summer. Not to mention that it bleats for hours on end, occasionally getting so lonely that it literally screams for attention. I have called animal control and I do not feel guilty.
I just saw on CNN’s website that “Kick Ass” dropped from #1 to #5 in the box office rankings.
I was hoping for a sequel, or even a trilogy. With its current performance, I’m not sure another film or two would be justified.
So let’s watch “How to Train Your Dragon,” a nice little Shrek knockoff, since kids movies always have to reign supreme.
Those damn Swiffer cloth refills that are citrus Febreze scented. It is not a gentle but perky lemon scent; it’s a rancid orange funk that punches you in the face and is stinking up my cabinet as I type this.
Yesterday, I swiffered my bedroom floor and then tossed the used cloth in my bedroom trash can. Hours later, I was kept awake by the smell. The trash can is 8 feet from my bed! There was no air circulating in the room! Why am I smelling it?! Gross. I’m never buying this crap again.
I’m a new rabbit owner, and I’m not sure what it is about rabbits that seems to make people compelled to tell me all of their horrible tales (usually from childhood, but not always) of rabbit death/maiming/neglect. Really? Even after I assure you that I’ve read some of the best rabbit resources out there, you think I still need to hear all sorts of in-depth details about what your parents/your dog/neighborhood vermin/neglect did to a pet rabbit? Thanks, you’re such bringers of joy. I’m glad that I will not be getting pregnant, else I’m sure you’d tell me similarly terrible tales about baby neglect/harm/death.
At least the one actual, current rabbit owner I spoke to gave me all sorts of useful info, and only a few, well-worded cautionary tales, about things like not startling rabbits and how rabbits introduced to each other may well physically fight and never get along.
Poor little goat. I just googled pygmy goat and those things are adorable. How could someone leave something that cute alone? (Not that ugly things deserve abuse, I mean.)
Hey, maybe intact tomcat could be a companion for pygmy goat. Regaling the little goat with stories of catting it up and all that. Goats are notoriously over sexed.
Nuthin’.
That can’t last.
As mentioned in the mini-rants thread, I had to have a fence installed because my backdoor neighbors can’t contain their dog or their child. The fence is installed, and I love it. The backdoor neighbors do not…they approached both the men who installed the (four foot aluminum) fence and complained that it’s “dangerous”, and approached the landscaping guys to inform them that it (and the pinestraw at the base) “looks like shit”. Apparently, they thought my yard was really theirs, and are pissed off at the loss. Ah well…I have HOA approval and a fence permit from the town, and the entire fence is built within the property lines. I’m mildly pissed because I know this isn’t quite over; as I mentioned, the male backdoor neighbor is a little hothead. I’ve seen him touching and shaking the fence several times (yes, I have pictures of the fence). He also pulled up the wooden stakes that were placed when I had the back line re-surveyed. Nice guy.
Last week, I put a sticky note on the vending machine at work that said, “Please stock 3 Musketeers,” because I like 3 Musketeers. Just a minute ago, I noticed someone removed the note. Why would they do that?
I wish Beware of Doug would stop bringing his whiny emo baggage into every thread he posts in.