It’s starting already.
December just reached us on Wednesday and people are already starting to PISS.ME.OFF.
You know what I’m talking about. Those who are offended by the words MERRY CHRISTMAS.
In case anyone forgot, which is easy to do these days, Christmas is a holiday to commemorate the birth of Jesus. We do not celebrate it to piss anyone off. We do not wish you a Merry Christmas to offend anyone. Believe it or not, when we wish you a Merry Christmas, we are trying to be NICE!!!!
I am a Christian. I will say Merry Christmas all I freakin’ want to. If you do not like it...don’t freakin’ come out of your home during the whole month of December.
I REALIZE that Christmas is NOT the only holiday celebrated in December, but I do NOT celebrate any other holidays so I am NOT going to go around saying Happy Holidays just to please some strangers.
If you celebrate Hanukah, then by all means, wish me a Happy Hanukah. I will smile at you and thank you. What is the point of getting offended??!?!?!?!?!?!??!?!
If you do not like Christ or believe in Christ or what ever...fine. I do not care. I do not harass you about it. I do not try to change the world so that no one can ever say the word ATHEIST or be an atheist. It’s your business. So leave Christmas alone; that’s my business.
Still not ready to let it go? Then wear a big red sticker on your head all year so those of us that go around and so “rudely” wish you a Merry Christmas can all together avoid you. It will be an international symbol. The sticker, without words, will say, “I have nothing better to do so I need something to bitch about. If you wish me a Merry Christmas, I will find you and kill you.”
MERRY CHRISTMAS
P.S. Why are the Christmas colors red and green?
P.P.S. Stop fucking with the Christmas cards that now all say Happy Holidays or Seasons Greetings. I want to send cards that say Merry Christmas damn it.
UPDATE: Someone unfollowed me after this. Told ya Merry Christmas was offensive.
Showing posts with label Things I hate. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Things I hate. Show all posts
Friday, December 3, 2010
Friday, November 19, 2010
That'll kill the Christmas spirit
AMCHornet wanted to hear me complaining and since I do that nearly every Friday, I am going to dedicate this post to her. She didn’t have anything in particular she wanted me to bitch about, so I’ve chosen to not do the 5 Things That Drive Me Crazy and instead focus on something that is really worth complaining about.
First of all, I must say, I work for a coal company so yes, my opinion is probably biased.
I live in West Virginia. West Virginia is coal country. You think people would know that by now? Yeah, well they don’t. People that have just moved here and holding protest meetings to try and shut down our mines. Why in the Hell would you move to coal country if you don’t like the fact that we do indeed mine? That’s like moving next to an airport and complaining about the noise.
Anyways, I learned yesterday that we lost our permit to mine. That means that right before Christmas, dozens of people are going to get laid off. Most of them were just hired in August when we obtained the permit. Some have been with us for years. In six months, I may not have a job.
This is in large part due to coal haters. Our mine was once shut down because environmentalists thought we were killing bugs in a pond. Bugs! Bugs were chosen over the livelihood of many employees. Real, breathing people with real families to take care of. I hit 1,000 bugs with my car while driving to work every day, but no one has ever tried to take my license.
People are always trying to find a way to get money from us and when they can’t, they protest. We pay for any damages we cause. We reclaim every site we mine. Then usually give it away. One place that we owned, we gave away and now a school, a fitness center, and a fair ground is there. Concerts are held there all summer long. Fairs are held there. My point? We don’t totally ruin the land.
We pay lots of money to buy the land we mine. Sometimes we buy the land and the houses that sit on it. Granted, the home owners have to then move, but they didn’t have to sell to us. And it’s not even those people, whose lives are uprooted and they have to start over that complain. No, it’s the neighbors that don’t like the noise of the coal trucks. They don’t like the dust that the trucks create. They don’t like when the ground shakes when we blast. Those are the top complaints.
Don’t move across the street for a coal mine and then complain about the noise.
If they don’t like the dust, they need to call the trucking companies (for we own no coal trucks) and complain to them.
By law, we are required to give them the option to complete a pre-blast survey. So that means, when we use a bunch of explosives to break the land, they are entitled to fill out the survey, have someone come assess their home and then if we cause any damage, we promptly fix it. And it’s the people who didn’t fill out the surveys that complain. I’d say they had a crack in their foundation before the blasting ever started and they are trying to get us to pay for it.
If these same people who attend every meeting about the coal companies would also attend every meeting about cutting down trees to build strip malls, putting up apartments for the college students everywhere you turn, removing our green earth to put in a parking lot, and gasoline and diesel fuel polluting our air I probably wouldn’t complain. But these people are focused on one thing and one thing only. Coal.
They don’t realize by them complaining about bugs and dust that they are actually causing many families to do without because their husband or wife has just been laid off. Kids may not get to even have much of a Christmas because parents have no idea how long it will be until they find a job again. I know even without children, I will lose a lot. Not to mention the co-workers that I’ve been with for years and have become like family to me.
My message to them? Just leave us alone! WE GIVE YOU ELECTRICITY FOR CRYING OUT LOUD!
Please don't unfollow me! :)
First of all, I must say, I work for a coal company so yes, my opinion is probably biased.
I live in West Virginia. West Virginia is coal country. You think people would know that by now? Yeah, well they don’t. People that have just moved here and holding protest meetings to try and shut down our mines. Why in the Hell would you move to coal country if you don’t like the fact that we do indeed mine? That’s like moving next to an airport and complaining about the noise.
Anyways, I learned yesterday that we lost our permit to mine. That means that right before Christmas, dozens of people are going to get laid off. Most of them were just hired in August when we obtained the permit. Some have been with us for years. In six months, I may not have a job.
This is in large part due to coal haters. Our mine was once shut down because environmentalists thought we were killing bugs in a pond. Bugs! Bugs were chosen over the livelihood of many employees. Real, breathing people with real families to take care of. I hit 1,000 bugs with my car while driving to work every day, but no one has ever tried to take my license.
People are always trying to find a way to get money from us and when they can’t, they protest. We pay for any damages we cause. We reclaim every site we mine. Then usually give it away. One place that we owned, we gave away and now a school, a fitness center, and a fair ground is there. Concerts are held there all summer long. Fairs are held there. My point? We don’t totally ruin the land.
We pay lots of money to buy the land we mine. Sometimes we buy the land and the houses that sit on it. Granted, the home owners have to then move, but they didn’t have to sell to us. And it’s not even those people, whose lives are uprooted and they have to start over that complain. No, it’s the neighbors that don’t like the noise of the coal trucks. They don’t like the dust that the trucks create. They don’t like when the ground shakes when we blast. Those are the top complaints.
Don’t move across the street for a coal mine and then complain about the noise.
If they don’t like the dust, they need to call the trucking companies (for we own no coal trucks) and complain to them.
By law, we are required to give them the option to complete a pre-blast survey. So that means, when we use a bunch of explosives to break the land, they are entitled to fill out the survey, have someone come assess their home and then if we cause any damage, we promptly fix it. And it’s the people who didn’t fill out the surveys that complain. I’d say they had a crack in their foundation before the blasting ever started and they are trying to get us to pay for it.
If these same people who attend every meeting about the coal companies would also attend every meeting about cutting down trees to build strip malls, putting up apartments for the college students everywhere you turn, removing our green earth to put in a parking lot, and gasoline and diesel fuel polluting our air I probably wouldn’t complain. But these people are focused on one thing and one thing only. Coal.
They don’t realize by them complaining about bugs and dust that they are actually causing many families to do without because their husband or wife has just been laid off. Kids may not get to even have much of a Christmas because parents have no idea how long it will be until they find a job again. I know even without children, I will lose a lot. Not to mention the co-workers that I’ve been with for years and have become like family to me.
My message to them? Just leave us alone! WE GIVE YOU ELECTRICITY FOR CRYING OUT LOUD!
Please don't unfollow me! :)
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Bed Bugs...or something.
Last night I was abruptly awoken by a tickle in my ear. I wiped at my ear and was immediately assaulted with a crackling noise. It sounded like there was a little elf sitting in my ear eating Rice Crispies. Or maybe Pop Rocks.Yeah, it was totally Pop Rocks.
All other sound was lost except for the damn crackling and popping noises.
Then it went away. So I lay back down with my ear pressed against the pillow and it started again, only this time the tickling came back. I sat up in bed and screamed.
Boyfriend sat bolt upright in bed and started looking around like he was lost. I laughed at him. Then he said, “What.The.Fuck?”
I said, “There is a freakin’ spider in my ear laying eggs, you need to get it out.”
Like the good man that he is, he got up and turned on the light. He looked inside my ear and said, “It’s not a spider, it’s an egg-laying bed bug.”
Naturally, I screamed again and then he started laughing. I punched him in the arm and was all, “What in the hell is in my freakin’ ear?”
Turns out there wasn’t anything in my ear. Well, nothing a q-tip could get out, anyway. But I was still convinced that there was a bug burrowing into my brain. I laid wake most of the night listening to the little shit making a new home in my ear wax. And the tickling! It was driving me insane. Finally, I made Boyfriend get up again and put ear drops that were actually only water into my ear. It seemed logical. Just drown the bug, right?
Wrong. So very, very wrong. It made things worse. It wasn’t a good idea at all. The crackling then turned into more of a louder gurgling sound.
So I resorted to experts. I Googled it. Boyfriend was all, “Don’t Google it. You will just freak yourself out.” And I maturely said, “Nu uh,” and went about my business.
I figured out that I either had a perforated ear drum, fluid buildup that can be associated with colds, Eustachian tube dysfunction, or sinus drainage. I picked perforated ear drum. I was all, “Oh my God, I have a hole or rupture in my ear drum. I’m going to die.”
Boyfriend said I wouldn’t die of a perforated ear drum though and he gave me the I-told-you-so eyes. I only hope he knows what he’s talking about.
Anyways, I fought with my ear all night long and when it would finally chill out long enough for me to fall asleep; I would have dreams about bugs nesting inside my ear canal. I blame this post on lack of sleep. And spiders.
When I got out of bed this morning, it was gone. I still don’t know what it was.
All other sound was lost except for the damn crackling and popping noises.
Then it went away. So I lay back down with my ear pressed against the pillow and it started again, only this time the tickling came back. I sat up in bed and screamed.
Boyfriend sat bolt upright in bed and started looking around like he was lost. I laughed at him. Then he said, “What.The.Fuck?”
I said, “There is a freakin’ spider in my ear laying eggs, you need to get it out.”
Like the good man that he is, he got up and turned on the light. He looked inside my ear and said, “It’s not a spider, it’s an egg-laying bed bug.”
Naturally, I screamed again and then he started laughing. I punched him in the arm and was all, “What in the hell is in my freakin’ ear?”
Turns out there wasn’t anything in my ear. Well, nothing a q-tip could get out, anyway. But I was still convinced that there was a bug burrowing into my brain. I laid wake most of the night listening to the little shit making a new home in my ear wax. And the tickling! It was driving me insane. Finally, I made Boyfriend get up again and put ear drops that were actually only water into my ear. It seemed logical. Just drown the bug, right?
Wrong. So very, very wrong. It made things worse. It wasn’t a good idea at all. The crackling then turned into more of a louder gurgling sound.
So I resorted to experts. I Googled it. Boyfriend was all, “Don’t Google it. You will just freak yourself out.” And I maturely said, “Nu uh,” and went about my business.
I figured out that I either had a perforated ear drum, fluid buildup that can be associated with colds, Eustachian tube dysfunction, or sinus drainage. I picked perforated ear drum. I was all, “Oh my God, I have a hole or rupture in my ear drum. I’m going to die.”
Boyfriend said I wouldn’t die of a perforated ear drum though and he gave me the I-told-you-so eyes. I only hope he knows what he’s talking about.
Anyways, I fought with my ear all night long and when it would finally chill out long enough for me to fall asleep; I would have dreams about bugs nesting inside my ear canal. I blame this post on lack of sleep. And spiders.
 |
| *Shiver* |
Sunday, September 26, 2010
5 Things That Drive Me Crazy: Roommate Edition
This is a little late...but I've been busy. Apartment hunting mostly, which is what inspired this post. I also wanted to dedicate this to Molly who is searching for a roommate.
1. Leaving laundry in the washer and dryer- I wash clothes once a week. Mostly because that's all I have time for. Every single time in the two years that I have lived in my apartment, the washer and dryer are full when I go to start my laundry. Which means, I have to do someone else's laundry just to get to mine. It has been discussed many, many times and it never changes.
2. Parking- Parking is limited at my apartment. Therefore, when my roommates have guests over, my parking spot usually gets taken. I am the last one to arrive home from work in the evenings and I usually have to park across the street. Then I have to carry everything I have across heavy traffic. It truly sucks.
3. Unknown guests- I just L-O-V-E it when I'm sitting in my pajamas and stuffing my face with some cookies and a random stranger walks in. Like come on....how hard is it to let me know when we are having company?
4.Other people's undies- I have three roommates. It was just two until about a month or so ago, but now there are four people living in my apartment and Boyfriend is here all the time. So basically 5 and one dog. It is totally gross and embarrassing when I walk into the bathroom and find a pair of panties or boxers laying on the floor. Especially when I have a guest over. I'm sure boyfriend really loves seeing a pair of boxers that aren't his on my bathroom floor. (I was going to name this category 'Other People's Personal Items,' but when I find an empty condom wrapper or something, it doesn't make me angry, it turns me into a private investigator. I just have to know who it belonged to and who was getting freaky in my house.)
5. Privacy- Four people under one roof does not equal privacy. The only reason this one is pretty low on my list is because I'm not really a private person. I walk through the apartment in just a towel and I'll tell just about anyone about my personal life. But it is pretty annoying when we have to vote about what to watch on TV. Or we have to ask everyone if they need in the bathroom before we go take a shower. It would be so nice just to walk into the bathroom and take a nice long hot bath without anyone pounding on the door because they have to pee.
1. Leaving laundry in the washer and dryer- I wash clothes once a week. Mostly because that's all I have time for. Every single time in the two years that I have lived in my apartment, the washer and dryer are full when I go to start my laundry. Which means, I have to do someone else's laundry just to get to mine. It has been discussed many, many times and it never changes.
2. Parking- Parking is limited at my apartment. Therefore, when my roommates have guests over, my parking spot usually gets taken. I am the last one to arrive home from work in the evenings and I usually have to park across the street. Then I have to carry everything I have across heavy traffic. It truly sucks.
3. Unknown guests- I just L-O-V-E it when I'm sitting in my pajamas and stuffing my face with some cookies and a random stranger walks in. Like come on....how hard is it to let me know when we are having company?
4.Other people's undies- I have three roommates. It was just two until about a month or so ago, but now there are four people living in my apartment and Boyfriend is here all the time. So basically 5 and one dog. It is totally gross and embarrassing when I walk into the bathroom and find a pair of panties or boxers laying on the floor. Especially when I have a guest over. I'm sure boyfriend really loves seeing a pair of boxers that aren't his on my bathroom floor. (I was going to name this category 'Other People's Personal Items,' but when I find an empty condom wrapper or something, it doesn't make me angry, it turns me into a private investigator. I just have to know who it belonged to and who was getting freaky in my house.)
5. Privacy- Four people under one roof does not equal privacy. The only reason this one is pretty low on my list is because I'm not really a private person. I walk through the apartment in just a towel and I'll tell just about anyone about my personal life. But it is pretty annoying when we have to vote about what to watch on TV. Or we have to ask everyone if they need in the bathroom before we go take a shower. It would be so nice just to walk into the bathroom and take a nice long hot bath without anyone pounding on the door because they have to pee.
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Must Love Dogs
Boyfriend and I are currently looking for an apartment. It is stressing me the hell out.
We keep running into a problem.
No one will let us have pets and I absolutely cannot give up my dog. It would be like giving up my son.
How in the world could I give him up?? He's soo freakin' cute and I rescued him when he was a puppy from a place that was treating their animals poorly and starving most of them. He's been by my side ever since. Four of his brothers and sisters died from malnutrition, which I found out about after the fact or I would probably have 5 dogs running around.
The fact of the matter is though, everyone has a no pets policy.
Why don't these people have hearts?!?!?!
On the other hand...if I did decide to give him up...who in the Hell wants a full grown dog? He's sweet and loyal and behaves, but he is nearly 5 years old. No body wants an older dog, that's why there are so many of them at the pound.
I don't know what to do and I don't even really know why I'm posting about it. I guess I'm fishing for advice...so if you've got any...I'm all ears.
We keep running into a problem.
No one will let us have pets and I absolutely cannot give up my dog. It would be like giving up my son.
 |
When he was a puppy Having a stare down with the ferret |
How in the world could I give him up?? He's soo freakin' cute and I rescued him when he was a puppy from a place that was treating their animals poorly and starving most of them. He's been by my side ever since. Four of his brothers and sisters died from malnutrition, which I found out about after the fact or I would probably have 5 dogs running around.
The fact of the matter is though, everyone has a no pets policy.
I'm depressed and have been cuddling with him every chance I get.
Why don't these people have hearts?!?!?!
On the other hand...if I did decide to give him up...who in the Hell wants a full grown dog? He's sweet and loyal and behaves, but he is nearly 5 years old. No body wants an older dog, that's why there are so many of them at the pound.
I don't know what to do and I don't even really know why I'm posting about it. I guess I'm fishing for advice...so if you've got any...I'm all ears.
Monday, August 23, 2010
Doctors Are Overrated
I have to go to the doctor today for the 67th time this year, so I thought I'd tell ya'll about my experience with doctors this year.
Back in May, I started getting these severe pains in my stomach every time I ate and would then vomit. It sucked. After about a week, I went to the doctor, they gave me some antibiotics and sent me on my merry little way. Two days later, I had another episode and decided I had better get a second opinion.
I went to another doctor who sent me through a series of test including one where they put radioactive dye in me and made me lay still under a camera for two hours. Needless to say, it sucked. But it was finally determined that I had gallbladder disease, so my doctor referred me to a surgeon.
Two days later, I was sitting in the surgeon's office telling the nurse what I was allergic to. The surgeon came in, pushed on my stomach a little and then told me that they were going to go ahead and schedule the surgery. Right then, I should have known. I should have seen the dollars signs in his eyes. But no, all I could think of was, "Yes, I get to take time off of work!"
Apparantely this is a pretty common procedure and like everyone I talked to afterwards has had or knows someone who has had their gallbladder removed . So everyone who may have to experience this ...get your sick butt off of the exam table and go get a second opinion. In fact, get a second opinion when the first doctor tells you that you have gallbladder disease.
The surgery itself wasn't that bad. I was in a lot of pain, but I expected that. And apparently after they drugged me up, I told the nurses that I had named my gallbladder Earl, so that I could sing, "Goodbye Earl" to it. I wonder if they let me?
They sent me home the same day to let my inexperienced boyfriend take care of me. I pretty much slept that whole first day and was on a lot of pain killers. It was all pretty much a blur. The second day, I had to take the bandages off of my four incisions. And I desperately needed a shower.
Boyfriend got me into the shower and I immediately got nauseous. I started swaying and closing my eyes so Boyfriend got into the shower with me to hold me up. (He got an award for his outstanding nursing, btw) Then he started peeling away the bandages over my stitches. I made the mistake of looking down at them. As soon as I did, I felt this heavy wave of nausea come over me. I threw back the shower curtain and, as quickly as I could manage, went to the toilet and started dry heaving. It seriously felt like all my stitches ripped out. Then I got even sicker because I thought about the ripped out stitches. So there I am, wet and naked, hugging the toilet for dear life. It wasn't pretty. I actually felt bad for Boyfriend who had to witness the whole thing.
The healing process was slow. Like 6 weeks worth of slow. My digestive system was way out of whack and I couldn't eat hardly anything without getting sick to my stomach in one way or another. I was pretty much constantly running to the bathroom.
I couldn't leave the house. I learned that beer, coffee and BBQ sauce now hate me. And I have four ugly scars on my stomach. Tomorrow will be three months since my surgery and I am still not completely normal. No, I'm not in pain anymore, but I have to be extremely careful about what I eat and I absolutely cannot eat out at a restaurant. The food just has too much fat. I also have to plan to be near a bathroom for a least an hour after I eat.
I've called my doctor like a million times asking her why I still can't keep food in my stomach and she keeps giving me tips, but nothing works. She also told me that 60% of people who have had their gallbladders removed can suffer the side effects for life. LIFE!
Lots of doctor bills and appointments later, I am once again headed to the doctor to see if there is something else wrong that may or may not have had anything to do with my gallbladder. Lovely.
Have a nice day all and please, have a cup of coffee for me.
Back in May, I started getting these severe pains in my stomach every time I ate and would then vomit. It sucked. After about a week, I went to the doctor, they gave me some antibiotics and sent me on my merry little way. Two days later, I had another episode and decided I had better get a second opinion.
I went to another doctor who sent me through a series of test including one where they put radioactive dye in me and made me lay still under a camera for two hours. Needless to say, it sucked. But it was finally determined that I had gallbladder disease, so my doctor referred me to a surgeon.
Two days later, I was sitting in the surgeon's office telling the nurse what I was allergic to. The surgeon came in, pushed on my stomach a little and then told me that they were going to go ahead and schedule the surgery. Right then, I should have known. I should have seen the dollars signs in his eyes. But no, all I could think of was, "Yes, I get to take time off of work!"
Apparantely this is a pretty common procedure and like everyone I talked to afterwards has had or knows someone who has had their gallbladder removed . So everyone who may have to experience this ...get your sick butt off of the exam table and go get a second opinion. In fact, get a second opinion when the first doctor tells you that you have gallbladder disease.
The surgery itself wasn't that bad. I was in a lot of pain, but I expected that. And apparently after they drugged me up, I told the nurses that I had named my gallbladder Earl, so that I could sing, "Goodbye Earl" to it. I wonder if they let me?
They sent me home the same day to let my inexperienced boyfriend take care of me. I pretty much slept that whole first day and was on a lot of pain killers. It was all pretty much a blur. The second day, I had to take the bandages off of my four incisions. And I desperately needed a shower.
Boyfriend got me into the shower and I immediately got nauseous. I started swaying and closing my eyes so Boyfriend got into the shower with me to hold me up. (He got an award for his outstanding nursing, btw) Then he started peeling away the bandages over my stitches. I made the mistake of looking down at them. As soon as I did, I felt this heavy wave of nausea come over me. I threw back the shower curtain and, as quickly as I could manage, went to the toilet and started dry heaving. It seriously felt like all my stitches ripped out. Then I got even sicker because I thought about the ripped out stitches. So there I am, wet and naked, hugging the toilet for dear life. It wasn't pretty. I actually felt bad for Boyfriend who had to witness the whole thing.
I sat down on the bathroom floor and finally wrapped a towel around me. I was crying so hard that I couldn't see and yelling at Boyfriend to please call my damn doctor because I was dying. No body answered on the nurse's 24 hour help line. Figures. Boyfriend picked me up off the bathroom floor after much protesting on my part and put me back in bed. He gave me some pain killers and I didn't wake up until the next day. He told me that he checked my pulse like every half hour to make sure I hadn't croaked. Such a good boyfriend.
The healing process was slow. Like 6 weeks worth of slow. My digestive system was way out of whack and I couldn't eat hardly anything without getting sick to my stomach in one way or another. I was pretty much constantly running to the bathroom.
I couldn't leave the house. I learned that beer, coffee and BBQ sauce now hate me. And I have four ugly scars on my stomach. Tomorrow will be three months since my surgery and I am still not completely normal. No, I'm not in pain anymore, but I have to be extremely careful about what I eat and I absolutely cannot eat out at a restaurant. The food just has too much fat. I also have to plan to be near a bathroom for a least an hour after I eat.
I've called my doctor like a million times asking her why I still can't keep food in my stomach and she keeps giving me tips, but nothing works. She also told me that 60% of people who have had their gallbladders removed can suffer the side effects for life. LIFE!
Lots of doctor bills and appointments later, I am once again headed to the doctor to see if there is something else wrong that may or may not have had anything to do with my gallbladder. Lovely.
Have a nice day all and please, have a cup of coffee for me.
Monday, August 16, 2010
Letter to Neighbor
Dear Upstairs Neighbor,
Last week, when you overflowed your sink because you passed out on the toilet, also caused water damage to my apartment. My recliner in particular. However, since I am utterly grateful that the sink didn't come through my ceiling and because the situation was kinda hilarious, I'm gonna let it slide.
BUT, Iwant need to know why you always decide to clean your apartment at 1:00 a.m. I know you work day shift, because we leave at the same time every morning and we get home at the same time. So, I really can't understand why it's necessary to clean at 1:00 a.m.
Usually, I am already in sleepy town by then. I do not like being awoken by a vacuum cleaner, especially yours. Seriously, does that thing have a car engine? It's so loud! Then, for some reason, you always insist on turning on those horrible 80's tunes. And I'm pretty sure I've heard you singing along, and you have a terrible singing voice.
Since the Kitchen Incident of 2010, I am truly terrified that you are going to leave your sink running now. So I stay awake until you have finished cleaning. Then I tiptoe into the living room to make sure it isn't raining from the ceiling. It's gotta stop.
I really thought that we were going to be able to be BFF's but you are cutting into my sleeping time. And as previously stated, you are 100% responsible for my bad moods. I called the electric company to see if they would shut your power off from 11:00 p.m. to 7:00 a.m., but they told me no. Lucky for you.
So in conclusion, I ask that you please stop cleaning your apartment in the wee hours of the morning. If you must continue, I will give you a key and you can clean mine, too.
Thanks,
Downstairs Neighbor
Last week, when you overflowed your sink because you passed out on the toilet, also caused water damage to my apartment. My recliner in particular. However, since I am utterly grateful that the sink didn't come through my ceiling and because the situation was kinda hilarious, I'm gonna let it slide.
BUT, I
Usually, I am already in sleepy town by then. I do not like being awoken by a vacuum cleaner, especially yours. Seriously, does that thing have a car engine? It's so loud! Then, for some reason, you always insist on turning on those horrible 80's tunes. And I'm pretty sure I've heard you singing along, and you have a terrible singing voice.
Since the Kitchen Incident of 2010, I am truly terrified that you are going to leave your sink running now. So I stay awake until you have finished cleaning. Then I tiptoe into the living room to make sure it isn't raining from the ceiling. It's gotta stop.
I really thought that we were going to be able to be BFF's but you are cutting into my sleeping time. And as previously stated, you are 100% responsible for my bad moods. I called the electric company to see if they would shut your power off from 11:00 p.m. to 7:00 a.m., but they told me no. Lucky for you.
So in conclusion, I ask that you please stop cleaning your apartment in the wee hours of the morning. If you must continue, I will give you a key and you can clean mine, too.
Thanks,
Downstairs Neighbor
Sunday, August 15, 2010
I HATE Thieves.
I absolutely cannot stand a thief. It's one of my biggest peeves, EVER. And anybody that knows me could tell you that. Like seriously, don't even steal my hair tie or I will go freakin' postal on you! I seriously want to just grab thieves by the throat, slap them in the face and yell, "GET A JOB AND BUY YOUR OWN SHIT!"
So of course, it's only natural that someone would try to break into MY car. Out of all the cars in the parking lot, mine must have looked like it had more shit to steal. I say try, because I'm pretty sure they didn't succeed because my XM radio, GPS, and a bunch of CD's are still in there. BUT they did try and left behind this...
Seriously?! It's bad enough that you are trying to steal my stuff but then you have to go and scratch the hell out of my car door? It's a brand new car! For the love of all things Holy, I wish people would gain some respect for other people and their property.
I'm done now. Thanks for listening.
So of course, it's only natural that someone would try to break into MY car. Out of all the cars in the parking lot, mine must have looked like it had more shit to steal. I say try, because I'm pretty sure they didn't succeed because my XM radio, GPS, and a bunch of CD's are still in there. BUT they did try and left behind this...
Seriously?! It's bad enough that you are trying to steal my stuff but then you have to go and scratch the hell out of my car door? It's a brand new car! For the love of all things Holy, I wish people would gain some respect for other people and their property.
I'm done now. Thanks for listening.
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Puppies Make Everything Better
At my job, I put up with a lot of crap. I work in a male dominate office and they are very lazy and mostly helpless. Some will even ask me to mail letters for them because they can't figure out how to work the postage machine. (It's very easy.)
BUT...there are four women, including me, that work there, and one of those women makes my life hell. It's pretty much a known fact that the more women you have in your workplace, the more gossip and animosity there is. Which I completely agree upon, because with just the few of us, it can get pretty ugly. The two that don't bother me so much are old ladies who have grand children and great grandchildren, so they are pretty much over the petty bull crap. But there is always a bad seed. She is in her thirties and NOT MY BOSS. Let me repeat, she is NOT MY BOSS.
When I had boyfriend in the hospital, she called my personal cell phone at 7:00 in the morning and yelled at me because I couldn't make it to work. I'm not even supposed to be at work until 8:00. She claimed that she had too much work to do to watch the telephone lines for me and then DEMANDED that I call her ASAP and let her know when I'd be in.
I said, "Don't wait on the call. Boyfriend trumps job."
Upon filling her mailbox with post it notes, I realized that she had beat me to the mailbox-filling punch. My entire mailbox was full of fax cover sheets that came through the machine all day and junk mail (catalogs, magazines, etc). Seriously. This woman is an adult. And I know it was her, because no one else steps foot in the mail room. I grabbed all of the paper and threw it into the recycling bin and marched down the hallway to her office. That's when I discovered that she wasn't there. So I went to her boss' office and was told that she had called off. And let me be the first to tell you, if I would have had her cell phone number, you bet your ass I would have called and yelled at her.
Finally, I turned my computer on, only to find that it was flooded with junk mail from her. Forwards mostly, but some were emails that said unimportant things along the lines of, "I put the mail away today." Whoop De Do!
At this point, I was frustrated, so I went to my boss' office. I explained to my boss what she had done and told her that I didn't want to get my co-worker in trouble, I just didn't want her to come back and say that I hadn't finished my work or something. My boss then informed me that my co-worker had left early the day I called off and didn't answer the phones.
So she was so busy that she felt the need to call me on my cell phone and yell at me, but it was perfectly okay for her to leave early. And she didn't even answer the phones! Then later that day, I checked my Facebook and saw that she was shopping all day with her sister at the outlet mall. Really? Needless to say, I was angry and ready for revenge.
I was so ready to see her the next morning. I had a speech all prepared and was going be all like,
"Listen, BIATCH, you are not my boss and you DO NOT get to call my cell phone and yell at me because you cannot handle your own work load. I was in the hospital with my boyfriend, not out shopping with my sister! Oh and by the way, I told on you! So ha!"
Yes. I was ready. I even got to work early so I'd be there when she walked in.
As soon as I saw her, I stood up from my desk and waited for her to get through the main doors. Then she smiled brightly and was like, "My dog had puppies! Do you want to see the pictures?!"
And I was all like, "YEAH!"
Then we bonded over cute puppies and stories about our dogs.
I'm such a push over.
BUT...there are four women, including me, that work there, and one of those women makes my life hell. It's pretty much a known fact that the more women you have in your workplace, the more gossip and animosity there is. Which I completely agree upon, because with just the few of us, it can get pretty ugly. The two that don't bother me so much are old ladies who have grand children and great grandchildren, so they are pretty much over the petty bull crap. But there is always a bad seed. She is in her thirties and NOT MY BOSS. Let me repeat, she is NOT MY BOSS.
When I had boyfriend in the hospital, she called my personal cell phone at 7:00 in the morning and yelled at me because I couldn't make it to work. I'm not even supposed to be at work until 8:00. She claimed that she had too much work to do to watch the telephone lines for me and then DEMANDED that I call her ASAP and let her know when I'd be in.
She said, Click. Yeah, I don't think she liked that too well.
Anyways, so the next day I went to work only to find about 50 post it notes stuck to my computer monitor with one chore on each.
Things that she could have done with ease. But, being the nice gal that I am, I completed all the necessary tasks and then put all the pointless tasks back in her mailbox. If she wants to order phone books for every person in the office, than she is more than welcome. I ain't doin' it. Then I checked the main phone line and saw that only twenty calls had come in during a ten hour period. In other words, it was a slow day.
Upon filling her mailbox with post it notes, I realized that she had beat me to the mailbox-filling punch. My entire mailbox was full of fax cover sheets that came through the machine all day and junk mail (catalogs, magazines, etc). Seriously. This woman is an adult. And I know it was her, because no one else steps foot in the mail room. I grabbed all of the paper and threw it into the recycling bin and marched down the hallway to her office. That's when I discovered that she wasn't there. So I went to her boss' office and was told that she had called off. And let me be the first to tell you, if I would have had her cell phone number, you bet your ass I would have called and yelled at her.
Finally, I turned my computer on, only to find that it was flooded with junk mail from her. Forwards mostly, but some were emails that said unimportant things along the lines of, "I put the mail away today." Whoop De Do!
At this point, I was frustrated, so I went to my boss' office. I explained to my boss what she had done and told her that I didn't want to get my co-worker in trouble, I just didn't want her to come back and say that I hadn't finished my work or something. My boss then informed me that my co-worker had left early the day I called off and didn't answer the phones.
So she was so busy that she felt the need to call me on my cell phone and yell at me, but it was perfectly okay for her to leave early. And she didn't even answer the phones! Then later that day, I checked my Facebook and saw that she was shopping all day with her sister at the outlet mall. Really? Needless to say, I was angry and ready for revenge.
I was so ready to see her the next morning. I had a speech all prepared and was going be all like,
"Listen, BIATCH, you are not my boss and you DO NOT get to call my cell phone and yell at me because you cannot handle your own work load. I was in the hospital with my boyfriend, not out shopping with my sister! Oh and by the way, I told on you! So ha!"
Yes. I was ready. I even got to work early so I'd be there when she walked in.
As soon as I saw her, I stood up from my desk and waited for her to get through the main doors. Then she smiled brightly and was like, "My dog had puppies! Do you want to see the pictures?!"
And I was all like, "YEAH!"
Then we bonded over cute puppies and stories about our dogs.
I'm such a push over.
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Bad, bad weekend.
I had a pretty horrific weekend. And I'm tired. And I'm cranky. So forgive me, but this post may not be excellent. You may even want to skip it.
My boyfriend has been running a fever since Thursday, so Friday night I ended up taking him to the doctor. They said he had strep throat and gave him some antibiotics and sent us packing. Well, by Sunday, he still didn't feel well and his temperature reached 102.8. Which is bad.
So I took him to the Emergency Room and we all know how Emergency Room visits can be. Long and painful. They immediately hooked him up to IV's and put him on fluids because he was really dehydrated. Then they put him on an IV of antibiotics. Then, they took a bunch of blood. Then they took a urine sample. No one seemed to know what poor boyfriend had and his temperature still wouldn't come down.
So at 2:30 Sunday morning, the ER doctor tells him that he has to stay overnight. Well, duh, we'd already been there "overnight."
At 3:30 a.m., we finally get to his room and we are completely exhausted. Boyfriend especially. About twenty minutes later, they took him temperature again and it had come down to 99 degrees. Victory! It should have been time to sleep.
BUT his parents wouldn't leave. I was ready to throw a sleep deprived tantrum. Finally at about 5:00 am, they decided to go home. I ran down the hall and got a blanket from the nurses station and curled up in a chair next to boyfriend's bed. I was so ready to sleep, I could barely form a coherent sentence. I'm all like "Blanky, pleaz." And the nurse looked at me real funny, but then gave me one of those sympathetic looks that really mean, "Oh, this poor girl is so pathetic. I'll give her a warm blanket."
At 7:00 a.m. we were abruptly awoken from our sleeps by a nurse carrying a cart around to check vital signs. And then they had to draw more blood. And then boyfriend had to urinate, but we couldn't figure out how to get his cords and wires unhooked, so I just carried all the machinery to the edge of the bathroom door and sat it down. Luckily, the wires were long enough to reach.
I was standing outside the bathroom door waiting for him to finish when one of the machines suddenly starts to beep. I look down and it says his heart rate is 0 and he is flat lining.
I pull the bathroom door open with all my heart and soul only to find my boyfriend standing there taking a piss. I looked at the machine, then looked at him, then back at the machine.
Me: You're alive!
Boyfriend: Yep.
Me: Why does the machine say you don't have a heartbeat?
Boyfriend: Oh I took that thing off my finger so I could pee. Now, can I finish?
Me: {clears throat} Oh, yeah, um, sorry.
The greatest thing about his fake heart failure was that the machine went off for a good five minutes and NO ONE EVER CAME TO CHECK ON HIM! Seriously. Not a soul thought that his non-beating heart was a big deal.
By that time, sleep was out of the question. I couldn't rely on nurses who wouldn't come in to save him if I fell asleep. Even if I wanted to go back to sleep, it would have been impossible, because ten minutes later, his mother walked in. Yay.
Finally, the doctor came in around 11:00 am and told him that he had some disease that can best be described as shingles in the throat, although it isn't shingles. WTF?
His temperature was remaining low and they said he could go home. Then I had to argue with his mother that I could take him home and I could indeed care for him like I had been for the past 4 days. (although he did wind up in the hospital after my care, but come on, that wasn't my fault)
After winning the argument, I got him home and immediately fell on the bed and crashed for about four hours. When I woke up, he wasn't beside me. I jumped up while my heart was trying to beat its way out of my chest and ran into the living room. There he was sitting in the recliner watching cartoons and eating CoCo Wheats. He looked so much better! I ran over to him and gave him a hug. Little did I know that he had taken my cell phone so I wouldn't be disturbed and when I hugged him, I nudged my phone off of the chair arm and into his glass of ice water. Because, I'm that lucky.
When I got in my car this morning, the maintenance light was on and I realized my tags were dead.
I'm going to the DMV to get new tags, going to get my oil changed and I get a new phone today, hopefully. And boyfriend is starting to feel better. So hopefully, this week turns around. If not, I may be in the psych ward soon. I'll leave an address so you can write me.
My boyfriend has been running a fever since Thursday, so Friday night I ended up taking him to the doctor. They said he had strep throat and gave him some antibiotics and sent us packing. Well, by Sunday, he still didn't feel well and his temperature reached 102.8. Which is bad.
So I took him to the Emergency Room and we all know how Emergency Room visits can be. Long and painful. They immediately hooked him up to IV's and put him on fluids because he was really dehydrated. Then they put him on an IV of antibiotics. Then, they took a bunch of blood. Then they took a urine sample. No one seemed to know what poor boyfriend had and his temperature still wouldn't come down.
So at 2:30 Sunday morning, the ER doctor tells him that he has to stay overnight. Well, duh, we'd already been there "overnight."
At 3:30 a.m., we finally get to his room and we are completely exhausted. Boyfriend especially. About twenty minutes later, they took him temperature again and it had come down to 99 degrees. Victory! It should have been time to sleep.
BUT his parents wouldn't leave. I was ready to throw a sleep deprived tantrum. Finally at about 5:00 am, they decided to go home. I ran down the hall and got a blanket from the nurses station and curled up in a chair next to boyfriend's bed. I was so ready to sleep, I could barely form a coherent sentence. I'm all like "Blanky, pleaz." And the nurse looked at me real funny, but then gave me one of those sympathetic looks that really mean, "Oh, this poor girl is so pathetic. I'll give her a warm blanket."
At 7:00 a.m. we were abruptly awoken from our sleeps by a nurse carrying a cart around to check vital signs. And then they had to draw more blood. And then boyfriend had to urinate, but we couldn't figure out how to get his cords and wires unhooked, so I just carried all the machinery to the edge of the bathroom door and sat it down. Luckily, the wires were long enough to reach.
I was standing outside the bathroom door waiting for him to finish when one of the machines suddenly starts to beep. I look down and it says his heart rate is 0 and he is flat lining.
I pull the bathroom door open with all my heart and soul only to find my boyfriend standing there taking a piss. I looked at the machine, then looked at him, then back at the machine.
Me: You're alive!
Boyfriend: Yep.
Me: Why does the machine say you don't have a heartbeat?
Boyfriend: Oh I took that thing off my finger so I could pee. Now, can I finish?
Me: {clears throat} Oh, yeah, um, sorry.
The greatest thing about his fake heart failure was that the machine went off for a good five minutes and NO ONE EVER CAME TO CHECK ON HIM! Seriously. Not a soul thought that his non-beating heart was a big deal.
By that time, sleep was out of the question. I couldn't rely on nurses who wouldn't come in to save him if I fell asleep. Even if I wanted to go back to sleep, it would have been impossible, because ten minutes later, his mother walked in. Yay.
Finally, the doctor came in around 11:00 am and told him that he had some disease that can best be described as shingles in the throat, although it isn't shingles. WTF?
His temperature was remaining low and they said he could go home. Then I had to argue with his mother that I could take him home and I could indeed care for him like I had been for the past 4 days. (although he did wind up in the hospital after my care, but come on, that wasn't my fault)
After winning the argument, I got him home and immediately fell on the bed and crashed for about four hours. When I woke up, he wasn't beside me. I jumped up while my heart was trying to beat its way out of my chest and ran into the living room. There he was sitting in the recliner watching cartoons and eating CoCo Wheats. He looked so much better! I ran over to him and gave him a hug. Little did I know that he had taken my cell phone so I wouldn't be disturbed and when I hugged him, I nudged my phone off of the chair arm and into his glass of ice water. Because, I'm that lucky.
When I got in my car this morning, the maintenance light was on and I realized my tags were dead.
I'm going to the DMV to get new tags, going to get my oil changed and I get a new phone today, hopefully. And boyfriend is starting to feel better. So hopefully, this week turns around. If not, I may be in the psych ward soon. I'll leave an address so you can write me.
Thursday, July 22, 2010
My boss wants me dead
Here at the office I work in, we used to have a file clerk. This girl would just go around to everyones offices asking them if they needed things filed, and she actually liked to file. Weird, right? I would rather write a 4 million word report than to file. It's that bad. But anyways, we would keep our documents in these accordion type folders and keep them alphabetized so that all she had to do was file them accordingly.
But then, the most horrible thing happened. She got laid off. The company just didn't see the need for the extra cost of our beloved file clerk. But we were told that if the company makes more money, we can get her back.
The folder...it got too full. I began piling the documents on my desk.
But then, the most horrible thing happened. She got laid off. The company just didn't see the need for the extra cost of our beloved file clerk. But we were told that if the company makes more money, we can get her back.So yesterday afternoon, I went to my boss and asked about said file clerk.
Me: "So ugh, when is File Clerk coming back?"
Boss: "Oh, she isn't."
(My jaw hits the ground) Me: "What do you mean?"
Boss: "They didn't put her salary in the budget, so we cannot get her back. The position doesn't exist anymore."
Me: "But-but, can we take up a collection and get her back?"
(Boss' face contorts into bewilderment) Boss: "Um, no. You have to be your own file clerk now."
I walk out of the office with my head hung low. My boss didn't seem to understand. I hate to file. It is painful. My hopes and dreams for my filing systems all depended on File Clerk, because after only a month and a half of her being gone, this is what happened.
The folder...it got too full. I began piling the documents on my desk.It was getting harder and harder to see my computer monitor, so I broke down. I grabbed the magic brown folder and went into my filing room. After about two hours and realizing I don't know the alphabet quite as well as I used to, I finally had an empty folder.
I walked triumphantly back to my desk, only to realize, I still had the above pictured stack to file. I sighed dramatically and began putting them into their appropriate letter slots only to find out that I had filled the brown folder up all over again. And this vicious cycle will continue until the day I quit/retire/get fired. I hate filing.
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