Damn, you need some fun in your life. Hope you can find some little joys that can offset at least the anal glands.
OK, so here’s an anti-rant: dark chocolate. I keep reading that it’s good for you, so I’ve added a daily square to my diet. Mmmm…
Someday soon, a woman is going to get the proofs from her wedding photographer and discover that there are pictures of her and her bridesmaids standing in front of a guy on a bicycle wearing a “my brain hurts” t-shirt and waving at the camera. First of all, congratulations; I wish you many years of happiness together. Secondly, if you don’t want me in the background of your wedding photos, DON’T TAKE THEM ON THE DAMN BIKE PATH!
Yeah, but when you show up in the background on the honeymoon pics, too, she’s gonna know something’s up.
my turn: those stupid people shouting on the streets at 3 am. Yes, I know I live in a highly residential area. I have no problem with people being out late at night, and I don’t even think they should have to whisper. But when it’s 3 am, I live on the fifth floor, my windows are closed and I can still hear you as loudly and clearly as if you were standing in the room with me, YOU ARE BEING TOO LOUD!!! I’m sick and I’m trying to sleep, dammit.
Ok…I have one. Didn’t want to start my own thread.
I spent last night puking my guts out. I hate it. HATE. And it hurt.
After all the food was gone, then there was the bile. I couldn’t stop. And the taste of it. AIIGH.
If I never puke again, I will be happy.
Why can’t my stomach warn me? “Say, I know I just indicated hunger to you, but actually, I’m not feeling so good.”
Blech. And I feel like crap now.
This, and the car with the too-sensitive alarm that goes off 10 times a night. I don’t know what use that damn alarm is. I’ve never seen the owner come out to check it. The only thing it’s good for is waking up the neighborhood.
As far as I can tell, that the only thing that ALL car alarms are good for. Hey, we’re supposed to be a bunch of big brains around here; surely we can come up with an electronic device that disables other people’s car alarms at a distance.
My rant: Day 47 (at least, it feels like it) of cold, wet and miserable. This would be understandable if I didn’t live in ONE OF THE SUNNIEST PLACES IN CANADA. It was a deal, weather gods - we get a long, cold winter, and a mild, short summer, but you make it sunny 333 days of the year. You’re not holding up your end of the bargain.
On the recommendation of my dentist I went to an endodontist to have something he saw on my recent x-ray checked out. She (the endodontist) said that a there was an infection under a root canal that had been done many years ago, and that I was going to have to have the tooth extracted. She also pointed out that another tooth that currently had a crown needed a root canal, but that’s a different rant. She gave me a prescription for an antibiotic to take to keep the infection under control until I could get the tooth extracted.
What with one thing and another, I didn’t get the prescription filled until Friday. I started taking the pills as directed, four a day. Yesterday afternoon, however, one of the possible side effects kicked in: diarrhea. After several quick trips to the bathroom during the evening, I decided to stop taking the antibiotic until I can talk to the doctor on Monday.
I hate feeling nauseous and puking. The best drugs for that are Compazine (a mild tranquilizer) and Zofran (Ondonsetron). Zofran is given to chemo patients and people like me that sometimes have unpleasant med side effects. It is extremely effective but very expensive.
You can get both from overseas - checkout the site drugbuyers.com.
It sounds like you had food poisoning. that’s the only time I’ve puked continuously for hours on end even when there was nothing left to puke. It’s a good abdominal work out though.
I’ve forgiven Frito Scoops for trying to kill me not long ago but that’s not my rant. My rant is directed towards me: At least once a month I decide I have to have a Frito Pie and I buy Frito Scoops and I eat the whole damn bag before I make the Frito Pie and I have to buy more and it just goes on and on and I can’t fucking take much more and YOU have to remind me of Frito Pie and I just cant go on.
I start taking a chewable probiotic tablet each time I’m put on antibiotics. I KNOW that the antibiotic is going to kill off my good bacteria, so I might as well start putting more good bacteria in my gut. I rather like the flavor of the tablets, they remind of strawberry milkshake.
IANAD, etc.
I’m glad that Hyland’s Teething Tablets soothe your child when she’s cutting teeth. Sounds like they’re safe and effective, and you SHOULD feel awesome about having the sense to use them to minimize your child’s suffering. Go you!
Now STFU up about feeling good about using them because THEY’RE ALL NATURAL! Sweetie, the active ingredient is belladonna. That’s also known as Deadly Nightshade. It’s an opiate. You know what other substances are all natural? Nicotine and alcohol. And ergotamine and ricin. And un-buffered aspirin, which will rip up the lining of your stomach, unlike the un-natural buffered stuff. And, oh, all kinds of stuff that would make you scream till your hair fell out, if it came anywhere near your child.
Get a grip and learn some basic science.
I’ve been standing in line for 10 minutes. The phone began ringing 6 seconds ago. Why does the person on the phone get immediate service? WTF!?!
But seriously… this always happens - you’re conducting business face-to-face, the phone rings, and you’re immediately put on hold in favor of the random stranger on the phone. Is this cultural, something that people are trained to do, what?
Ooh, that bugs the shit out of me, too. It’s even better when you’re finally getting some service, and they put your service on hold to help people on the phone. “Excuse me, I have to take this.” No, you have to take my money that I’m trying to hand to you, because without money, your business will fold. The phone can go to voicemail, or you can hire more people so someone can work the till and someone else can answer the phones.
I’ve got a few bones to pick.
First, I really don’t see the point in providing product marketing feedback when marketing consistently ignores everything I say, even when they understand the product line so poorly they misrepresent it in our marketing materials. I’m the product manager, dammit - God forbid you listen to me when I calmly inform you that it’s illegal to do wht you say we’re doing, which is why we don’t do it. Why do I even bother?
Second, about my nipples. Yes, my nipples. If my 10-month old bites them again, I’m going to scream bloody murder. Ha ha, yes, very funny - we all get the joke. Cut it the hell out. I have bite marks. I know it’s not done purposely to hurt me, but if the biting continues, I may just pump and give her a bottle - the pain is seriously trying my patience. Perhaps I’d have more if the girl would sleep longer than 45 minutes. I haven’t slept more than two hours at a time for a week now and that pisses me off, too.
Third and finally (though I’m sure I can think of more), I wish the pharmacy would stop getting my prescription wrong. And I wish I didn’t have to explain myself everytime I pick up my prescription once they get it right. “Are you pregnant?”
“No.”
“Are you breastfeeding?”
“Yes.”
“This medication is not recommended for breastfeeding women.”
“My doctor is aware I’m taking it.”
“He is?”
“Yes.”
“And he says it’s ok?”
“Yes, he’s indicated that it’s not that it’s not recommended - actually, it’s the safest seizure medication available for breastfeeding and pregnant women - but it’s relatively new.”
“Oh. Interesting. Let me look that up real quick.”
taps feet
“Wow. You’re right. I guess I can give you this.”
Jeebus, lady. How fucking generous of you to give me the medication my doctor has prescribed and my insurance has approved (don’t think I don’t see you holding the filled prescription in your hand). Perhaps you don’t realize it, but I’m taking those for a seizure disorder. While it wouldn’t affect you one bit if I seized, seizures really, really hurt. And when I regained my emotional capabilities, it’d piss me off to no end.
Hey, you! Yeah, you, the dude smoking in the stairwell because “It’s raining outside.” Well, too! Quit stinking up the entire building (it’s a small building). Either smoke inside and deal with paying the excess cleaning fee to get the crappy residue off the walls and the odor out of the apartment when you vacate or go stand in the rain. I’m fairly sure you won’t melt like the Wicked Witch. But if you do, well, too bad! At least if you do melt, there will be a good reason for the cigarette butts littering the stairwell, the foyer, the parking lot, etc.
I’ve worked at 2 different places that required us employees to do this. The KFC I worked at, if the phone wasn’t answered within 5 rings, the entire staff on duty would be wrote up by the district manager.
While working at Dollar General, if the phone wasn’t answered within 3 rings, the manager of the store would be wrote up by the district manager.
At both places it didn’t matter if everyone was busy with a customer or not. If you were open, that phone better be answered, no matter what. I don’t know if these places still have this policy or not.
Lower back sprain. Extreme pain. I take my prescription to the pharmacy.
They say they’re in the weeds, and could I come back in 45 minutes to pick them up?
Sure, no problem. Limp limp limp.
I give 'em an hour, to be on the safe side.
No dice. “They’ll be ready in 5 minutes. Have a seat.”
I try having a seat. Can’t. For some reason, their chairs are excruciating.
I attempt to sit, with the pharmacist looking right at me the entire time.
Nope. Even though walking around is decidedly painful, it’s better than being tortured.
An hour and a half later, after several limp-bys to check on progress, they finally give me my drugs.
Bastards.
See, I don’t get this… why make it a policy, unless the DM is a self-important asswipe who doesn’t want to wait for somebody to answer the DM’s call? It’s not as if KFC or DG takes orders by phone.
**dzero **is a fucking retard. Not only does he not realize that other people have come up with his “bright idea” fifty billion times before, to the extent that it’s actually become a whole sequential string of minirant threads, but then he has the gall to try to dictate to me what I may post in it.