fuzzybluemonkeys: fuzzy blue monkey (Default)
What if a job that would be very good for me career-wise is turning out to be not so good for me health-wise and I haven't even gotten there yet?
fuzzybluemonkeys: Evil Hand (zombies)
I made my reservation two weeks ago. In theory, that should have given you time to plan your morning such that you could actually get my U-Box here in a timely fashion. Or at least give me priority over the other things that are making you busy. Like, seriously, you knew this was coming. You're supposed to be a professional business.

VOMIT AND DEATH.

Update:
Scheduled to arrive at 10am. Actually arrived at 1pm. 3 hours for them to get off their asses and get it here. 1 hour to actually load the damn thing. I did have help from Emmy and her Significant Other. SO got the TV and mattress down, and was amazingly helpful with the dude backing the thing into the parking space. And Emmy (daughter of a professional mover) helped get the rest of the stuff downstairs and packed in the box. I don't watch the show, but I'm feeling all Friendship is Magic right now.

Update the Second:
When I called at 10:30am in a "have you forgotten about me?" capacity, they said 11 or 11:30. When I called at 11:30 in a "where the fuck are you?" capacity, they said 12:30. When I called at 12:30, I got redirected to the central customer service and complained to some people there, who contacted the local dudes and reported back that they were loading it "right now". It finally showed up at 1pm. Packed up by 2pm. Tried to call but rang the extra that means it's going to central and chatted with Emmy instead. Called again later, truck arrived in like 10 minutes. I do not understand the discrepency here. With 2 weeks advance notice we are 3 hours late, with just being called up, we head out right that instant.
fuzzybluemonkeys: Evil Hand (zombies)
My intestines hurt.
So what else is new?
Pain is how they roll (or roil as the case may be).
I can even almost ignore the pain by virtue of it always being there.
But sometimes.
It bothers me.
Like, I just have this screaming rage that builds up inside of me.
Because I am in pain.
And I am always in pain.
And I will always be in pain.
And I cannot remember ever not being in pain.
(If there did once exist pain-free abdominal days of my youth, they are long gone.)
Not only can I not remember such mystical joys as my intestines functioning normally,
(Though I have vague memories of things getting worse in middle school which means they must have once been better, right? Right?)
But I cannot conceive of what it would be like if my intestines didn't hurt.
The notion is too alien.
I cannot imagine what it would entail.
(There is the obvious: a cessation of intestinal pain emanating from my abdomen, but I no longer know what that is like.)
I relate to my abdomen based on how much pain it is causing me at any given moment.
I can contemplate a lessening of pain.
I have experienced varying degrees of pain and less is always best.
But the complete absence of pain is unknowable to me.
And most of the time I am okay.
I can deal with it.
I have always dealt with it.
I will always deal with it.
But sometimes.
It just fucking bothers me.
fuzzybluemonkeys: Meg living in captivity. (one girl revolution)
My mom is the scary thing that makes my nightmares nightmarish.
And I just resent it, okay? I want a do-over.
And even in my stupid dream, dad is trying to make excuses for her.
Parenting: You did it WRONG.

Blech.
fuzzybluemonkeys: Rufus/Bucket of Sunshine (oh the humanity)
I don't know. It went. I said things. Words came out of my mouth. Hopefully they weren't gibberish.
Now comes the wait and see of will they or won't they want an in-person interview.

And I need to stop agonizing over it because it's over and there's nothing I can do and argh and bah and sigh.
fuzzybluemonkeys: Meg living in captivity. (one girl revolution)
Because the rights of hypothetical children that don't actually exist supersede those of living breathing human women.



This post is brought to you by NPR being on in the bookbinding studio, and the fact that I had to put headphones on because it is too early in the morning for me to experience this much rage.
fuzzybluemonkeys: fuzzy blue monkey (breakfast)
So previously, I've talked about de-religionifying the "Good King Wenceslas" carol, but this year, I've decided it should stay religious. Particularly the bit that's all:

Therefore Christian men be sure,
Wealth or rank possessing,
Ye, who will now bless the poor,
Shall yourselves find blessing.


And then we staple it to the foreheads of all the supposed Christians in congress.
fuzzybluemonkeys: Rufus/Bucket of Sunshine (oh the humanity)
So previously, I've talked about de-religionifying the "Good King Wenceslas" carol, but this year, I've decided it should stay religious. Particularly the bit that's all:

Therefore Christian men be sure,
Wealth or rank possessing,
Ye, who will now bless the poor,
Shall yourselves find blessing.


And then we staple it to the foreheads of all the supposed Christians in congress.
fuzzybluemonkeys: (highway)
HR is more concerned with the bit where we know that we're being treated unfairly rather than the bit where we're actually being treated unfairly.

But they took great pains to assure us we had done the right thing in approaching them, so there's that, I guess.
fuzzybluemonkeys: Evil Hand (zombies)
No, no, fuck you.

HATE!,
nicole

P.S. I didn't think of it until I was driving on an ice skating rink and wondering if I could sue you from beyond the grave, but next time I am totally wearing my Harvard shirt in protest. So there.
fuzzybluemonkeys: I just read the most wonderful story about a beanstalk and an ogre and (oh really)
Right. So. Holiday cards.

Previous iterations have included:
  • snowflakes, snowflakes, and more snowflakes (I've pretty much done the snowflakes to death at this point)

  • pine trees

  • snow personages

  • "These are a few of my favorite things"/"Warm woolen mittens" (the bewhiskered kittens and bestringed brown paper packages were too 3D for mailing and sorta difficult to mass produce, so some people just got mittens)

  • mugs of hot chocolate


The current iteration includes:
  • Who the fuck knows?

  • No, seriously, who the fuck knows? And can they tell me? Because I have no ideas.
fuzzybluemonkeys: (highway)
It is better to have a propensity for hitting curbs than a propensity for hitting other cars. It is better to have a propensity for hitting curbs than a propensity for hitting other cars. Or pedestrians. Or wildlife.
At least this way, the only thing that gets hurt is my car. But seriously, what is up with me and the damn curbs? I was doing so well! I mean, I scraped a few curbs-- maybe even bumped a few others, but nothing requiring the shelling out of money for car repair for at least two years. Maybe even three.
At least I know what to do and am actually pretty good at changing a tire between curbs and picking up nails (except maybe not because Public Safety Officer said I should loosen the bolts before the tire was all the way off the ground, and I had forgotten and/or never learned that part *eyeballs dad*).
Ah well, the very kind Officer Leach stopped to help (To Do: make a "thank you" card and figure out where to send it) and was actually able to start the bolts loosening without standing on the tire iron and bouncing a bit (which is what I usually do). Then I stopped at Pep Boys on the way home and got a new tire. This was definitely the cheapest of the three curb hits as it did not require body work. Then again, the second curb hit, I didn't realize it required body work until later when it started making funny noises and it turned out the axle was bent.
So I'll just be over here telling myself that it is better to have a propensity for hitting curbs than a propensity for hitting other cars.
fuzzybluemonkeys: Anything you can geek, I can geek greater (geekery)
You might as well just steal the whole gorram thing and make my life easier.

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