Archive for the “Rants” Category

I had one!

It was bad beyond all levels of badness.

But I’m still grateful. I’m grateful that I have a roof over my head, that my parents, brothers, sis in law and nephews are healthy and happy, that I get to see beautiful mountains every time I drive to work (and no it’s not what I see when I look down at my chest), that I have friends like E and S who will take me out for coffee and listen to me bitch and whine, and then turn around later the same day and take me out to lunch and listen to me bitch and whine some more! I’m grateful that my animals seem healthy and happy, that I have satellite TV and an internet connection, that I have at least two former bosses who still believe in me, that beer was invented ever, and that it’s almost Friday.

Tomorrow will probably be badness to the 2nd power… badness squared. Because the drama at work isn’t over, it’s ramping up and I’m in the center of it. There’s no winning, no coming out of this OK, no recovering from it. All that’s left is the last final nails in the coffin of my career at my current employer, and I just hope it takes a few more months to hammer that crap in so I can find something else. Oh, I’ll be the first to admit that I’m responsible for a big handful of those nails. I set them up because I didn’t know there was anyone swinging the hammer when I wasn’t looking. Drunkbunny 0, “Christian” Coworker 195+++.

But I have a lot to be grateful for. I can walk, I can see, I can think, I can hear. I can support myself, feed myself, drive. I’m a lucky girl.

I had a coupon so I went to KFC for the first time in at least a year and a half. I stopped going there because they always would get my order wrong, and the drive through took longer than a semester at college. But with a coupon I’m willing to give another chance.

The first thing I notice is that everything has a “no trans fat” sticker on it. “Oh yeah,” I thought to myself, “They changed the grease due to people whining or something.”

After 25 minutes in the drive-thru I get my food home and - oh my God, it’s so bad. It’s fresh and not overcooked, but it doesn’t taste like KFC. There is absolutely no flavor to the chicken. In fact, I think I’m going to throw most of it away or make chicken salad - it’s that inedible. You can totally tell they changed how they make it.

I even gave some potato wedges to Moose and he spit them out and refused to eat them. Moose - the one who eats socks and craps them out whole. Wouldn’t eat KFC.

I feel sorry for that restaurant. How are they going to stay in business with such shitty-tasting food?

Now I’ll be the first to admit that I’ve had some nasty things in my mouth from time to time.  But few things were as rank as my first drink of Red Bull.

I’m all about better living through chemicals, from caffeine to alcohol and everything in between (as long as it’s legal of course, because our lawmakers know what is best for us).  So you would think that Red Bull and I would be a match made in heaven.

Nothing could prepare me for my first swallow.  It tasted like a cross between dust, pee, lemon Pledge, and despair.  “This can’t be right,” I thought to myself.  “This drink is everywhere.  It HAS to taste good!  Surely the people of American society wouldn’t drink something that tastes this bad, just because of clever marketing and a cool brand image!”  So I tried again.  This time, I thought I could also detect a hint of dishwashing soap, and fur.

I had heard that many of “the kids these days” are drinking Red Bull mixed with vodka.  Thank God I didn’t put the vodka in the Red Bull before I tried it.  That would have been vodka I could have never gotten back - a tragic loss.

Nicole has a post about being accosted in an elevator by some dude who basically told her she was stupid because of what she ordered for lunch.

It reminded me of a similar thing that happened to me about five years ago, also in an elevator.  So I thought I’d post the story again.

Can’t we all just get along?

Sure, we come from different philosophical mindsets when it comes to coffee.

I realize society frowns upon using straws to drink hot beverages. Hell, it says so right on the straw wrapper: “Not for use in hot beverages.” But as far as I know, there’s no LAW against it!

Am I really hurting anyone? Is what I do in the privacy of my own morning routine really any of your business?

Yet it continues. I am constantly hassled in public by strangers. Like this morning. Elevator Dude says to me, “Oh, so coffee is coming with STRAWS now?”

Who asked you, buttlick?

You say that drinking coffee through a straw is an affront to society; maybe even an affront to nature itself. You could probably find a Bible quote to twist around so that my drinking coffee through a straw becomes an affront to God.

I don’t buy it! Just because most of society is raised to grow up, go to school, get a job, get married, have kids, and drink coffee out of a mug doesn’t mean that is the only legitimate lifestyle choice!

I am human too! I have feelings! If I spill coffee upon myself, do I not burn?

So here’s my message to you, elevator dude, and all those strawophobes out there. Do not mock my lifestyle choice. Mind your own damn business. I bet you have your own little food or beverage secrets yourself. Maybe you don’t shake well before using. Maybe you don’t serve chilled. Maybe you pick your teeth with your car keys.

Let he who is without food sin cast the first straw wrapper!

Stay strong against the assalopes, Nicole!

You make him jealous!

Or at least that is the lesson you would have learned if you had read the comic For Better or For Worse over the past week or two.

Elizabeth has an emotionally abusive ex, Warren, who cheated on her with her best friend and made her travel to the Canada outback to visit them before they told her.

So she gets back with Anthony, the “nice guy” she dated all through high school.

Fast forward to some time later, and despite being together constantly and vague statements from Anthony to string Elizabeth along, no marriage proposal.

Then one night Warren shows up out of the blue, wanting Elizabeth to take him back. The phone rings and inexplicably, Warren feels it is his place to answer Elizabeth’s house phone. Of course it’s Anthony calling.

Elizabeth later explains that nothing funny was going on, and Anthony believes her. But still, he must have been threatened out of his comfy, “let’s coast like this forever” reverie because THE VERY NEXT DAY he and Elizabeth are engaged.

Isn’t that such a lovely lesson for our young ladies? “Make him jealous if you want to snare him!” and “Men only want a toy when they see another man wanting to play with it, like every creature with a Y chromosome has the psyche of a two year old at the toybox screaming ‘mine! mine!’”

OK, I think the latter point is actually true. But still…

Oh, and I LOVE how Anthony and Elizabeth leave the prospect of getting married UP TO ANTHONY’S DAUGHTER TO HAVE THE FINAL SAY. Yeah, let’s leave the major life decisions up to the toddlers in the house! (Sad thing is that many of today’s kids are truly being raised this way.)

“If it’s OK with you…” !?!?

Anthony’s daughter Francie is a spoiled little obnoxious brat that gets away with saying the rudest things and has been raised to think she is the center of the universe, getting her way at every turn.  Even though she is fictional, it annoys me that the comic author is portraying this child’s behavior as being cute and funny.

I’m sorry for the lack of updates this week, but you see, I’ve been going through my own personal tragedy.  On Sunday, the remote control to my satellite TV receiver/DVR quit working due to a broken “SAT” button that tells the receiver, “Hey, quit playing my DVD player and get back to changing my channels and working my DVR!”.

I have emergency training so I was able to stay calm and call the Dish Network to ask for a replacement.

Forced to go through several minutes of automated “troubleshooting” left me very annoyed; listen jackasses!  I know it’s NOT a battery problem.  It’s the problem of a button that was there, and now is in several pieces rattling around inside the remote itself, and thus is no longer pressable!

The idiot that answered the line when I finally got a real person was just as annoying.

I explained the problem:  the button is broken, missing, and thus is unpressable.  I needed a replacement remote.

Dish Guy:  (obviously reading from a script) “Well, let’s do some  troubleshooting to see if we can fix it over the phone.”

Me:  “You can replace a missing button over the phone?  That’s positively magical!  Can you give me some winning lottery numbers too?”

Dish Guy:  “So, the button isn’t lighting up red when you press it?”

Me:  “There is no button to press.  Therefore, I would have to say that the nonexistent button’s red light is nonexistent too.  You need to send me a new remote.  You can’t fix this over the phone.”

Dish Guy:  “When is the last time you replaced your batteries?”

Me:  “I replaced them eighteen times with brand new batteries before I called, because like you, I thought at first that batteries could amazingly reassemble a button that is in 8 pieces and rattling around inside my remote.  I was just as shocked as you are that it didn’t fix my problem.  You need to send me a new remote.  You can’t fix this over the phone.”

Dish Guy:  “Do the other buttons light up when you press them?”

Me:  “Yes they do, but the most important button of all is the “SAT” button because unless I can live to press this button again, I will never be able to control my DVR and receiver again.  So other buttons lighting up won’t help me, and pressing them didn’t make the remote grow another SAT button.  You need to send me a new remote.  You can’t fix this over the phone.”

Dish Guy:  “Is the power light on your receiver on?”

Me:  “Yes, and I can do some functions with the limited buttons on the receiver itself.  It’s not a receiver problem.  I can see the problem right in front of me.  It is not a mystery.  I have diagnosed it using my genius IQ.  The problem is that the button DOES NOT EXIST ANYMORE.  You need to send me a new remote.  You can’t fix this over the phone.”

And we go round and round.

Apparently that guy assumes that members of the general public are just as goddamn stupid as HE is himself.

But the story ends happily because my new remote came in the mail and it only took me 45 minutes to get it working.  I’m happy again!

I just saw a job advertisement that wants a trainer to have years of medical experience, a Masters degree, and years experience as a trainer.  Pay?  45-50K.

Apparently, all of us little sweet nurses have rich husbands and we just got our Masters degrees and years of medical experience as a hobby to keep us sweet little housewives out of trouble!  Tee hee!

Shove your 50K up your ass.  I don’t have a completed Masters degree and I wouldn’t work for 50K in the Denver Metro area (where the payment on my crappy townhome is over $1600/month, and I live outside of town in the cheap area).

That’s not even $24/hr!  My brother makes $25/hr working on the bottling line at Sudsweiser, no college degree or experience necessary.