Where's the damn mini-rant thread when you need it?

The BBQ Pit
41

Boss: “these three tasks are due tomorrow, see?”
Me: “yes, I know, can we go over them after I’ve finished this please?” (this being a daily task that I don’t know why the clients don’t do it themselves, but they bitch endlessly if it’s not in their inbox by 11am - I start work at 10)
Boss: “but they are due tomorrow!”
Me: sigh “OK, let’s see… right, this one is on track and this one is on track aaaand this one is on track. No problem”
Boss: “but they aren’t done. We need to change the due date.”
Me: “no we don’t, they’re all on track and will be done tomorrow.”
Boss: “but the programmers need time, we need to agree on a new due date with the clients and change it.”
Me: “there is no programming needed in any of them, they’ll be done tomorrow.”
Boss: “but the programmers… there is no programming?”

I’m not even an AA but sometimes I do feel like a highly-paid babysitter. The high pay doesn’t manage to make up for the poo smell and occasional projectiles of biological origin.

42

Pita bread is not like regular bread, right? There’s supposed to be something different about it. As I recall it splits into a kind of pocket, right? So you can stuff your sandwich filling inside it? That’s how I was brought up to understand how pita bread behaves.

So why is it that half the time when I try to split up the bread to get at the pocket, there’s no fucking split, and I end up shredding the bread, and rather than two thin pieces of bread attached together at the edges, I end up with one fat one with little shards of crust hanging off and no fucking place to put my fucking sandwich filling?

Pita bread!! You are not fulfilling your pockety destiny! If I wanted an open faced sandwich (or some sort of salad comprising my sandwich filling and the bits of pita that I have torn off looking for the pocket) I wouldn’t have selected pita bread in the first place!

Gah!

43

Why is it so hard to just say, “Hey, this was fun, but I am uninterested in having anything to do with you again?” Why is the pussy wussy passive-aggressive method apparently the way to reject people nowadays?

44

I enjoy an occasional bowl of oatmeal. I buy the fruit and creme variety, with 4 different flavours to delight my tastebuds: Strawberries, peaches, bananas and blueberries.
On the box the strawberry text is highlighted in red. Bananas, yellow. Peaches, orange. Blueberries, blue.

So, common sense dictates that when you reach inside and spy a blue packet, you’re getting blueberry flavour. Yummy blueberry, right? Tear open the packet and what falls out but…peaches!
What the hell…I don’t want peaches. I look in the box and see that the blueberry packets are purple. Ah. I can see that. But when you have blue already in there, it makes no sense.
And if you want banana flavour? Reach for the brown packet.

Makes me wonder which designer over at Quaker needs to re-take kindergarten class.

45

cowgirl, what you are looking for is “pocket pita,” not just pita bread. Check It.

46

I understand you need to buy groceries. I understand you may not have 55.23 in cash with you. But please, PLEASE if you KNOW you are gonna be writing a check, start filling it out while the cashier is ringing up the items. You already know the name of the date, store you’re in, and your name, so have the fucking check near complete so I don’t have to stand there for 5 minutes and watch you fumble through your purse, get your checkbook, find a pen, and then start to write said check.

Or just get a debit card. Or cash.

Morons.

47

My stepdaughter, who’s known me for 12 years (her mom and I have been together that long), the night before she was to return to her teaching job overseas, told her mother she didn’t think I was her mother’s type and she deserved someone better.

48

Sure.

49

Okay, husband of 16 years. “Please don’t make a big deal out of my 45th birthday” doens NOT mean “please forget my 45th birthday”.

Warning - petulant whining coming up.

It’s bad enough being 45 years old and working two jobs to help get us out of the debt that your midlife career change incurred, but couldn’t you have managed to get out of bed and have coffee with me this morning? Take me to lunch? Buy a goddam card? I mean, you just had three weeks of vacation (I have none since every time we move because of his job, I start over). You couldn’t manage to come up with something, or even remember to say “happy birthday” as I cleaned out the cat box, cooked dinner and took out the garbage today? You were off all day. You had time to go out and buy yourself book. A month ago you were moaning about not knowing what to get me for my birthday, hence the request to not make a big thing out of it.

And now you are off to work, where you will watch cable, cruise the web, and sleep, unless you get a flight and actually have to work for a couple hours. So that’s it. Birthday is officially forgotten. Whats worse is that when you finally do remember, you’ll end up moaning ang beating your breast so much that I’ll end up having to sooth you and assure you that it was no big deal, and it will somehow end up being my fault because I should have mentioned it more often. I can look forward to feeling resentful AND guilty.

I’m not high maintenance. I wasn’t expecting a flowers, diamonds, serenades. Just maybe a little time out of your day, maybe lunch, a promise of dnner some evening.

Most of the time I really like my marriage. This clearly isn’t one of those times. This only happens about once every 5 years (last time was our 10th anniversary, which is how I know exactly what to expect when he realizes he forgot.) Oh well, tomorrow I can put it behind me. He probably won’t forget again until my 50th birthday, and by then, if there is any justice in this world, he’ll have dumped for someone half my age and ten times as much trouble.

End of whine. I’m off to be middle-aged with my friend Amy and a bottle of wine. Maybe we’ll watch a DVD that involves Hugh Jackman and no pants.

50

Happy birthday, Mrs. Cake! I don’t understand how “please don’t make a big deal” is too often translated to “don’t worry about it at ALL,” but that seems to be the way it goes sometimes. :frowning: I hope you enjoy your evening.

51

Thanks Endiqua. I got a phone call a few minutes ago. He was signing in at work and noticed the date. Oops. The groveling has started. Maybe he’ll remember that we talked about going away for the weekend next week.

I’m still going out for the wine and DVD though.

52

Happy Birthday, Mrs. Cake. I’ll take over (virtual) catbox duty while you’re enjoying pantsless Hugh Jackman.

Mmmmm…pantsless…

53

or at least it doesn’t visit this office.

Seriously, when you drink the last of the coffee, start a new pot. It isn’t that hard The filters are right on top of the coffee maker. The pre-measured packets are right below. All it takes is putting the coffee in the filter, putting the filter in the coffee maker, putting the empty pot under the coffee maker, and pressing the start button. You’ll notice that there is no stop button, it stops automatically. This process takes about 1 minute… maybe less.

It takes almost as much time to pop the top of the coffee pot open and just leave it sitting empty on the counter! The difference being that your co-workers in the former situation get coffee when they walk in. In the latter, they get an empty coffee pot due to your lack basic human consideration. That’s just thoughtless and selfish and rude.

54

amarinth, are we in the same office? (Do you work in a swamp?)

55

Ouch. Sorry.

56

To my in-laws:

Thank you for not signing the documents you agreed to sign to help me get residence status here, possibly sinking my application and setting us back months and hundreds of dollars. And I feel so glad that you’re looking out for the possibility of something happening to my husband, making me a burden on you. Oh wait, no I’m not, because I’d rather keep him in one piece TYVM.

To US Immigration:

Thank you soooo much for raising fees a few weeks ago. I feel so good that you help fatten your wallet by forcing people to pay more to move here. I mean, if you have $300, what’s $1k to you? They can afford it, surely. And the high fees should help with cracking down on all the extra people coming here illegally because of the high fees. Wait a minute…
This has been nothing short of a royal pain in the ass. It’s worth it in the end, but yeesh.

57

Fucking fuckety fuck-fuck

Our well pump’s started going off every 8 minutes again (I THOUGHT they’d fixed that in July). Whoop, there it went. That $2,000 we spent last year was apparently not enough. It had better not cost anything more to fix this, as we are OUT of money. We just spent a lovely $600 on one of the cars.

My Mom keeps adopting pets she can’t handle. Now we may be dog owners. We didn’t want a dog. If we’d wanted a dog, we’d’ve adopted one.

My FIL’s visit sucked, nothing I’d planned worked out. And now he’s pissed off because the kids were watching TV and playing on the computer while he was here. If he’d actually play with them instead of sitting like an immobile lump, he’d get more attention. I agree with turning off media, but I can’t make them befriend him if (FUCKING PUMP) he won’t interact.

The kids are climbing the walls - the damn pool’s closed already, the weather’s wonky anyway, and they’d rather “do experiments” (i.e., make a mess with shampoo and body creme in the bathroom) than play with any of their 2 gazillion possibly lead-tainted toys, and I’m ready for them to be back in school!!!

I just fucking want to paint.

fucking pump, there it went again.

58

  1. My hand is doing weird things. All yesterday, the pinkie and the ring finger and that side of my hand were totally numb. Now, the feeling is back in my pinkie and ring finger (most of the time) but my thumb keeps doing this weird twitchy thing.

  2. I hate zits! hate them a lot! especially the nasty under-the-skin ones that turn red and get all swollen so you look like you’re Zeus about to give birth to a person who will spring fully-grown off your face. The worst part is that I have two of them! One on my temple that hurts like a bitch, but isn’t horribly noticeable, and one right in between my eyebrows that’s so swollen it makes me look like some kind of rhinoceros hybrid. ugh.

  3. I hate being a confused kid. I hate high school drama and having a new crisis every week.

This week, I hate it when people you’re not all that fond of decide you’re their best friend. And when they’re nice enough that you don’t want to be a bitch to them, but seriously seriously lacking in social skills and manners enough that hanging around with them makes you want to stab yourself in the eye.