My company doesn’t use automatic deposit. They FedEx our checks out to arrive the day before payday. Sometimes they arrive at 10:00, sometimes at 3:00. Today - the day before payday - they never showed. The gal who normally does them is out (which I’m not pitting). They’re going outtoday.
Fuck! I need my check, goddamnit! My bills are precisely timed according to our fucking ridiculous pay dates (the 5th and the 20th). Moreover, I need my check at the same goddamn time! Moreover and over, jesus make the decision to move to ADP already!
I just came here to rant about the fact that my new anti-convulsants are keeping me awake at night. My doctor is weening me off of my old ones due to the fact that they just weren’t working. The side effects of these are almost minimal compared to the old ones-except for keeping me up at night. I’m going to call and ask if it’s okay if I can take them in the morning instead of at night-this is insane.
Fuck you, carpal tunnel syndrome. Fuck you for striking me the way you struck my mom and half of my coworkers. Fuck you for making me go to the doctor and forcing me to buy the giant-size Motrin and $30 of ergonomic wrist pads for my home and office keyboards. Fuck you for keeping me awake at night and forcing me to take more frequent breaks, so I look like even more of a slacker to my boss and my immediate coworkers. Fuck you with a 10" dildo and no lube. :mad::mad::mad:
Whether it’s for a grade, or money, or for a very very important (funeral for my grandmother) speech/letter (because I’ll be too weepy to speak it): why must I wait for the last moment to write? Hello, Self, we’re actually good at this. I have a feeling that law school will be especially trying for me. Because I am a lazy fucker with writer’s block.
Also: Self, geez, U R dum. Write the damn personal statement, already! We could be going to a top tier, shit for brains!
I mean they always say, “You need to have your radiator flushed and the air filter changed and your doosiwhat should be whatsidoodled.” And the amount I know about cars could fit under my broken-off fingernail.
How am I supposed to make intellegent decision and know how much they are just trying to suck up my money?
They’re trying to rip you off. Air filters and radiators don’t need to be cleaned every time you get an oil change. It’s good to check fluid levels and colors with an oil change, but not to dehydrate and replenish **all **the fluids in the car.
Some work rants:
*Lady, we are not your personal phone book. Learn to use 411.
*Students, please learn to formulate a coherent question. I hate having to play 300 questions just to find out you wanted a specific article in a specific journal.
*Professors, give your students coherent directions. That will eliminate 90% of the problems that crop up.
To our noisy neighbours in the building:
[ul][li]Keep the music down. The walls aren’t thin, but they’re not soundproof either. I’m sure whatever you’re listening to is great, but all I can hear is the thumping of the bass.[/li][li]Oh, and whatever you were doing that was shaking the entire building and sounded like a man screaming in pain? That can stop too.[/li][li]If you’re going to do major renovations (which is what it sounded like), some warning would be appreciated.[/li][li]Don’t have a screaming fight with your partner at 1am. Actually, don’t have screaming arguments with her at all. Ever. But especially not at 1am. It’s disconcerting enough having to listen in without being woken up by it.[/ul][/li]To the guy who just turned 21: Congrats, hope you had a fun night, and thanks both for letting us know there might be some noise and for keeping things down. I hardly heard a thing all night.
It’s a nice place to live, but there are things I just don’t want to hear in my own apartment.
I love you. Your sushi is amazing and your service is great and your location (right beside my building) can’t be beat. Your lunch specials are spectacular. When all my other lunch places deserted me, you, lovely sushi place, stood faithfully by my side.
Why, then, do you have a take-out menu but no take-out menu for lunch specials? I walked in today and looked at the list of lunch specials, picked one, and sat and waited (taking up space in your crowded restaurant) for you to make it. But if you had a list of lunch specials that wasn’t laminated all pretty, I could take it to my office, order by phone, and save us both some trouble. If you had such a list on your website, I could use that too.
I told you specifically not to place that order until I got approval from my boss. I mentioned this fact in writing.
Today she told me not to order that particular product.
Ten minutes later, what do I find in the mail? The product I told you not to ship. Over $500, and the return postage.
Sigh. Now I have to diplomatically tear you a new one. Neither one of us is going to enjoy that.
ARGH! Lost my debit card–in my freaking pocket. So I spent a good half hour searching fruitlessly, gave up the right to buy $100 worth of clothes, searched my car, patted my pockets, gave up, called my bank, agreed to pay ten bucks for a new card, declined the offer of putting a hold on the card for a couple of days so I could look for the thing, and then 4 hours later, while griping to my brother, discovered something hard in my pocket–the debit card.
I’m all broke out, because, well, it’s getting to that time. Fine, so I have hard icky lumps on my face. But why in seven fiery hells, do I have a zit under my nose?! I can’t even tell it’s a zit - it’s just a hard painful spot. OWWWWW!!
Fuck ragweed, and fuck AT&T and Samsung-or whoever is responsible for the fact that my cellphone will NOT send or receive text messages (even though my mum and Baby Sis are on the same plan, and their phones work just fine!)
Let it be known that I am well and truly sick of being on desk duty constantly. I do have work to do. Please let me finish it or you will have a lot of half-done crap lying around when I graduate in December.
Bebe, you know I love you. You’re a cuddly little furbaby and the sweetest cat that I’ve ever had.
But you must stop crying about going outside. We went out for 10 minutes today, the longest you’ve ever been out. You got to bite the weeds and wander around the concrete walkway and even lay down in the grass after I told you not to. But instead of giving me quiet gratitude, you’ve treated me to hours of high-pitched whining. Listen, babe. All that meowing is making me want to keep you outdoors forever!
We went to see the Masters horse jumping show today (Spruce Meadows - we saw Ian Millar and Eric Lamaze both jump - very cool), but it was kind of embarrassing when people nastily kicked us out of the seats they had paid for. You know what would work better? Putting up signs that say these bleachers are for ticket holders only. What’s that? You did put up a sign? Yeah, on one side of the walkway leading in so that nobody going up the ramp coming from one direction could see it. Jerks.
And while I’m at it, a perennial rant about people who take their kids and babies to pubs. You have the whole rest of the world - do you think you could leave us our drinking, watching sports, yelling at the tv establishments?
Kitty, I love you and your fuzzy self. However, your constant need to climb all over my body has covered me in bruises. I look like someone hit me in the boobs and ribcage with a baseball bat because of your need to jump on me in my sleep. Seriously, stop it!
There’s some weird problem with the mail at my house that prevents me from receiving smallish packages, in that anything that doesn’t fit in the box is put on my doorstep, but the dvd of Farewell To The World is MISSING. The Posties say it was delivered, I don’t fucking have it, and Amazon says it might not be delivered til the 15th.