I understand that you have an important job to do. The roads need to be cleared so we all can get to work and shit. That’s why I spent a few hours this morning clearing the massive load of heavy snow out of my driveway. Then, when I’m standing at the end of the driveway, you come by, pushing even more fucking snow back into the driveway. To add insult to injury, you smile and wink at me. Really? You think its funny that now I have to move even heavier fucking snow after I’m already exhausted from the first round? That’s alright. Just sit in your truck with your fake tan and bleach blonde hair and have fun on your power trip. No one looks like that in Wisconsin in the middle of winter. I can only hope that when you get done at the end of the day, you get to go home and find your driveway full of now-frozen slush boulders.
Went into work Saturday, in the Minneapolis suburbs, with 6" already on the ground and a forecast for over 20". Well over 50% absenteeism, because people either can’t get out already, or don’t want to get stuck, or know they won’t get home. Right out of the gate we’re asking why our site hasn’t been shut down. At 8:53am I ask my supervisor to call the Director and see about it. We’re told basically “Tough, you’re there already, you can use some of your points if you insist on leaving”. By 10am I’m thinking of leaving at noon, because I know that by 5pm, I won’t get out of the parking lot. One of my co-workers does leave, and it takes him 2 hours to drive home, which is usually a 20 minute drive.
The rest of the morning, we’re posting up FACTS about the storm - I-90 closed, plows pulled off the roads, DOT saying “Get off the roads, stay home!”, the U of M closing, etc. Another of my co-workers stands up at the end of every call and announces “WHY AM I STILL HERE?”. The place is in a state of near mutiny, and even the supervisors are very very unhappy about the situation. At noon, I tell my boss that I’m leaving as soon as I’m off my current call. Unfortunately, it’s a long one.
At 12:49pm our corporate offices over-rule the Director and order us to close. IMMEDIATELY.
As I’m driving home, I pass an up-hill freeway off-ramp. There are a half dozen cars stopped on it and some of the people are out trying to dig their way through a 3’ high solid wall of snow plowed across the front of the ramp by a plow truck. Glad I wasn’t them.
FOUR!? Now that’s impressive. We’re buying these things with our own money. Hopefully they work; reviews are mixed. Seriously, I’m amazed the landlord doesn’t care. I mean, from a money perspective, it’s far more expensive to clean a smoker’s apartment than a nonsmoker’s. And still nonsmokers won’t live in a previously smoked-in apartment. You’d think he’d care, but he’s really out to lunch. The hallways will still reek.
Chimera, your workplace sounds more and more like some horrible circle of hell every day.
Graduating is one thing … passing the test is another ball of wax! Nothing looks more pathetic than someone who earns an Associates and can’t manage to pass the licensing exam. Always ask if your vet has a licensed tech on staff if you want to. Although some of the people who’ve been at a clinic for 20 years know more than the newly licensed techs … education and a license are good for something!
My driveway is now like a bobsled course, because I’m too much of a penis brain to own a snow shovel or even a regular shovel. I do own a rake and broom. So yesterday morning, I attempted to sweep/rake the snow off my driveway, which didn’t work well.
You know, lindsey, if your boyfriend can afford a Burberry coat, maybe he could afford to pay for an apartment for you somewhere that the hoi polloi aren’t allowed in, with their dirty cigarettes and their droopy tits.
:rolleyes:
I call shenanigans on this, or at least shitty cleaning. My friends recently bought a house that was previously owned by smokers, and you can’t even tell. Even the old “smoking room” doesn’t have so much as a whiff or a stain.
Now now, your bitchiness won’t work on me. I never said he paid retail. He got it at a consignment shop for $125. Like I said, the apartment and building are expressly nonsmoking; it’s not like I somehow wound up here by accident and didn’t read the lease agreement carefully. What I’ve learned from this: live in a single family home. Which I’m doing when this lease is up.
You can call shenanigans all you want. Perhaps they had an excellent fumigator. Perhaps the room has hardwood floors. Perhaps they ripped the carpet out and replaced it. Perhaps they painted and did everything I mentioned. Perhaps you have a crappy nose, by genetics or by previously smoking. But I can tell when a motel room has been smoked in and is now “nonsmoking” - and have asked to be moved from it because of it. My mom’s car, purchased 3 years ago just coming off a 2 year lease, was smoked in and I could tell instantly. She, however, could not. Bully for her. As with anything, YMMV, which is why I was so goddamn careful about inspecting the lease agreement.
My rant is airtight. Sorry to let you down.
ETA:
Can it BE!?! Will the gods ALLOW it!? You spelled my name wrong!
Bite me, I’ve been up for 24 hours. I’m allowed to pick the wrong vowel.
And yes, the pulled up the carpet, scrubbed the ceiling and walls until they stopped dripping brown, and repainted. I’ll agree wholeheartedly that any *fabric *will retain smoke smells: carpet, drapes, car upholstery. That doesn’t mean that a once-smoker’d apartment is always a smoker’d apartment, however.
Ugh, the house we bought three years ago was owned by smokers. When we started having showers upstairs, the steam (no vent fan) started making the walls in the bathroom drip nasty brown gunk down the walls that would collect in corners as a tar-like substance. It even happened in the hall outside the bathroom door. Washing the walls almost weekly still took at least six months to clean it up enough that it stopped dripping. GROSS.
Some day we’re gonna get drunk and make out and sell videos of it for a brazilian dollars each.
That’s what happens when you smoke in a room for years. If you’re ever in the home of a serious smoker, look up–there will be a ring around the ceiling.
My niece’s birthday was yesterday. My father’s birthday is tomorrow.
Our family doesn’t communicate very well.
This morning, my mother casually mentioned that the family was going out to dinner tomorrow to celebrate.
I said “Oh? This is the first I’ve heard of it”.
She didn’t say any more.
I have no idea when or where.
This would not be the first time.
It’s not an intentional slight, they’re just stupid when it comes to COMMUNICATING things. We’re all supposed to read each others minds.
If I don’t know when and where by the time I go to bed tonight, I will not be going and I won’t be answering my phone.
I’m not going to wait until I get a call from the restaurant wondering where I am when NO ONE has informed me of jack shit, then run over there.
I still don’t know which day and where we are doing the family Christmas either.
Someone better inform me of when and where or I won’t be showing up for that.
Don’t make me come to your house and strew your garbage around. Milwaukee isn’t that far away.
We accidentally bought a house that was smoked in (we specified “non-smoking,” it was advertised as “non-smoking” {I think - it was a while ago}) - it was SPOTLESS when we moved in, but when we closed it up for the first winter, I couldn’t figure out what that awful smell was. It basically comes from the closets, I think, since there are no carpets in the house. My task for this winter is to paint every vertical surface with Killz.
On a completely different note, if you’re going to be a little baby wimp and not use the proper swearwords, the convention is to use asterisks for each letter you’re omitting. What the hell’s a “f*tard?” A fotard? A futard? A fetard? Okay, I like that one.
