I’ll make millions! Millions!
What I’m really pissed at today is the pool maintenance situation at my apartment complex.
The so-called “pool-guy” is a friend of the owner, and he pretty much shows up whenever he feels like it. The last couple of winters, he didn’t feel like it too much. His laziness resulted in organic matter building up which resulted in nasty stains on the bottom of the pool. So now, the pool looks like shit. It looks so bad, it’s just not inviting–I love hopping into a nice sparkling pool, but the way it looks now, it just turns me off.
This past weekend, they had to drain it to modify the drain. “Oh boy”, I thought, “this will give them a chance to get rid of the stains! Hurray!” Imagine my disappointment when I found out that they decided NOT TO remove the stains…because they’re so bad, they’d have to entirely re-surface the bottom of the pool. Oh, they can’t be spending money on that!
Sure enough, they’ve re-filled the pool and it still looks like crap.
1.) Coworker, I understand that we all have our preferred stalls in the restroom for our floor. I like to use the first one, and you like to use the second one. However, I also understand that it’s KIND OF CREEPY to walk into a stall directly next to an occupied one when there are other empty stalls further down. If you get there first, I use the fourth stall; so if I’m in there first, why the hell don’t you go to #3?
2.) Automatic flush, you’re incompetent.
3.) Whatever grown woman keeps leaving shreds of paper towel on the counter and in the sinks needs to fucking stop it. Yes, the dispensers are terrible. Yes, it’s almost impossible to get a paper towel out without having it go to bits. But the proper response is to FUCKING CLEAN THAT SHIT UP, not leave it sitting there for someone else to deal with.
Why oh why do I keep getting offered jobs that require me to move? I finally commit to staying in one place for a while, get a great boyfriend and great friends, and now every promising job is always 2-4 hours away! This really, really sucks.
Is it anything that requires you to be physically present every day? Could you work out a schedule where you could work from home at least part of the time?
An image just popped in my head of Dummy from Iron Man looking sad, and now I can’t stop laughing.
A dumbass lazy student took my class last year and failed. His plagiarism didn’t help.
He took my class again this semester, failed to do two of the essays, bombed two exams, failed to turn in his research paper, then asked if he could turn it in during finals week. I said no. He also asked if he could resubmit one of his exams. I said no; the syllabus stated that only one rewrite of an out-of-class essay was allowed.
He showed up for the final and did a crappy job on it, then asked if he could turn in the research paper. I said no.
He showed up the next day in my other class’s final and said that my policy stated that students could resubmit work. I told him again that this applied only to one out-of-class essay and that it was supposed to have been turned in at the end of May. He told me that he had lost his syllabus long ago. (He never asked for another copy, nor did he look at it on the two sites where I have posted it.)
Then he said, “I’m begging you…” and I cut him off. I said, “DON’T.”
He finally left.
Jebus, what a P.I.T.A.
Back when I was married, a couple who were my wife’s friends invited us to a big shindig at their place, saying they had invited something like 60-70 people.
There was her parents, and a sibling of one of them, and us.
You learn who your friends are. Or maybe you don’t learn at all.
I donated (well, sold) plasma today, and the woman who stuck me did a fucking terrible job, and now the crook of my elbow looks like it got attacked by a bucktoothed vampire.
Like men and their urinal rules, women also have stall courtesy rules - sitting right next to an occupied stall is only acceptable when it’s the only stall available. We can all pretend we’re sitting in privacy when we don’t have to hear/smell/see a person three feet away from us. Whenever the bathroom of 20 stalls is empty except for me, and someone sits right next to me, I feel like loudly saying, “Seriously? You can’t use one of the other 18 stalls?”
I’m imagining this as being one of Peter Parker’s professors and laughing.
Really, the rule applies to most public area with an array of seating: buses, restaurants, coffeeshops, etc. Don’t be the creeper who sits right next to someone. Y’know, unless you’re, like, amazingly hot, blindingly charming, single, and want to hit on me. And even then, not in the bathroom. (Partly 'cause that’s still gross, and partly 'cause I don’t like the ladies.)
After our last outing at a movie (Iron Man 2), I’ve decided that we are going to seat ourselves about a minute after the movie has started to prevent people from glomming right onto us in a half-empty movie theatre. The whole row we were sitting in was empty, but the loud-eating family had to sit right next to us. My Canadian politeness prevented us from standing up and moving; if we come in late, then we should be able to reduce this problem.
Unfortunately, Murphy’s Law dictates that should you choose this route, the only available seats will be next to the loud-eating family.
Motherfucking FUCK! I just found out that despite our efforts, somehow we failed to actually, really, truly sign up for a healthcare spending account. I had been planning on the basis of having a chunk of money sitting out there, waiting for me to claim it, and decided to put that toward getting a new education and professional certification. Instead, we are out about $500 in taxes on the deal, and we have not been accumulating that account, so I now have to pay for school, books, and the test fee out of the regular budget.
I can’t decide if I’m more pissed at my husband, an ostensibly intelligent person, who has managed to fuck up our insurance sign-up two years’ running (last year the baby had no health insurance because he didn’t submit things correctly. AND because of that he was supposed to be extra careful this year and also print out evidence of our signing up, which he “can’t remember” if he did now), or at the company for making the process so fucking dense a normally intelligent person can’t navigate it and tell for sure whether they’ve *really *submitted their choices.
Add into the mix that I thoroughly hate dealing with this crap, AND it is made worse because the entities involved won’t talk to me because I’m not the employee, AND the fact that husband gets pissy with me when I call him in a panic asking him to find out what the fuck is going on. (Thank goodness I decided to double check the amount of the account *before *doing the long, arduous, pain in the ass process of typing in all the information for scores of individual office visits for the claim - otherwise people would have to DIE.)
Dammit! I forgot about the fine print! I guess there’s nothing for it but just getting over my politeness and getting the fuck out of Dodge when idiots sit right next to us for no good reason.
Unauthorized Cinnamon, my stomach is clenching up just reading your description of whatever it is you’re talking about (I assume it has something to do with healthcare insurance, but I beg you, please don’t explain it to me). You have my sincere sympathy.
Thanks for the sympathy! Sorry for being abstruse. Basically, you can sign up to have some money taken out of each paycheck and put in an account for you to pay medical expenses out of. The money is exempt from income tax. (Since it’s not technically insurance, and fairly simple, I’m explaining anyway - feel free to ignore me!)
Your response reminded me of something funny my kid said - I showed Chloe this picture of a cake in the shape of a Ghostbusters proton pack, and commented that it was in a gallery of cakes that were done really well. She said, “Wow! That looks exactly like one!” I said, “One what?” She replied, “Whatever that’s supposed to be!”
So thanks for the laugh!
Right now - it’s the fact that Dopers continual post information that’s already given because they can’t be arsed to actually read the thread they are posting in. I can understand if it’s 20 pages long - but if it’s less than 3 - read the damn thread!
I didn’t think you were being abstruse; I find that the less I know about how the US American healthcare system works, the happier my life is. 
Wait, explain how a HSA would help you pay for these new, non-healthcare-related expenses? Unless you mean the tax money you would have saved would cover it. But if you thought you had an HSA, wouldn’t you have been paying healthcare expenses out of it all along anyway, so why are you just noticing this now? Unless you just meant you’d have had the money set aside from every paycheck… but you can’t just use it for anything.
Plus, AFAIK HSAs are “use it or lose it” from year to year, so there’s no reason you’d be sitting on the money. Unless you meant an HRA (Health Retirement Account), which roll over.
Or I could be just completely misunderstanding how these things work. It’s a giant clusterfuck either way.
This afternoon, I’m having the kind of menstrual cramps that take my breath for a minute, fold me in half, and render me incapable of…well, pretty much anything…
Okay, now I’m fine.
Now it’s back again…no I don’t need to go to the hospital…could you just fuck off for twenty minutes till the ibuprofen kicks in…kthxbai.