Wednesday Bitch

Our stove died, ovens, burners and all. We don't have the money to fix it until payday. (Such is life, huh!). We have one small local store and I decide to go there to see if they have anything inexpensive we can use until payday. The story of that visit follows:

I enter the store and note that the store manager is checking customers out, with about 5 people in line. I grab a cart and begin to wander through the aisles. After 30 minutes of not finding anything useful, I get in line to check out with my Coke and Mt. Dew. The cashier/clerk is no longer the store manager, the girl checking people out is apparently new, as I have never seen her before and as this is the only local store in our small town, I am at this store at least 3 times per week.

Me to Clerk: I know you had these last year, but I cannot find them this year, so I am asking... Do you have those individual stove burners that sit alone on the counter?

Clerk: Um... ma'am we have burner covers ?

Me: No, what I mean is the actual burner, it plugs into the wall...looks like an electric stove burner...I saw them here last year once but cannot find them now. Do you still have them?

Clerk: Um... well ma'am I know we have those metal pan thingies that go under the burners ?

Me: No...this is an actual burner...plugs in, you can put pans on it...cook on it...Oh, I think its sometimes called a Hot Plate.

Clerk: (Big smile) Oh Yes Ma'am...we have plates. They are plastic.

Me: No, I......

Clerk: (Interrupting me)... But ma'am our plates aren't hot...they are plastic...they might melt if they were hot.

Me: No...I do NOT mean plates. IT. IS. AN. ELECTRIC. BURNER. It plugs into the wall, you cook on it, and sometimes I think its called a Hot Plate. Have you seen any in the store?

Clerk: Please ma'am, I really don't think you can put these plastic plates on a burner. They will melt and it will stink pretty bad.

Me (Teeth gritted): Where is the store manager?

Lady in Line behind me to her children: Listen you idiots, I think you are stupid but listen to this idiot (As she points directly into the clerks face, fingers about 1 foot away from her face).

Clerk to Me: (Now standing with hands turned up...shaking her head...looking like shes going to cry)..Ma'am We have plates, cold plastic plates. We have burner covers, burner pans. I don't know what you want.

Me: Can you please just get me the store manager?

Clerk: I don't know where he is. (This store can be seen entirely from the checkout line - its probably 50 feet wide by 75 feet long)

Me: Can you overhead page the manager please?

Approximately 8 year old kid in Line behind me: Man She is fucking stupid Mom. That lady is stupid as shit.

Clerk to Me: Ma'am...can....you....please....HELP....ME....I.....don't....know....what.....to.....do .....

Me: I'll just pay for these sodas then thanks.

Sunday's Bitch

Immediate disclaimer:

Sadly, this is not me.

If I were younger, thinner, Asian, and had perky breasts,

then it would be me exactly.

*****

If I were a lesbian, I would let this woman do me instantly.

Because its Sunday.

And Sundays are a bitch.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Whilst I was away for the past 3 months, a variety of moments occurred in my exciting, self-stimulating, life. I shall list them quickly here, as they now bore me to death to speak about.

Broken toe.

Same toe then dislocated.

Pain.

Opposite foot then crushed by rack of frozen ribs.

Broken bones.

More pain.

Permanent damage.

Fucking Crutches.

Inability to walk.

Pissy attitude.

Alcohol intoxication.

Chest pain.

More chest pain.

Heart attack.

Recovery.

Some whininess.

News of second grandchild due in August.

Life renewed.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Its fucking fantastic to be back, both here and in the real world.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

Sigh.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Stay tuned.

What The Fuck Was I Thinking?

One day, and ONLY one day per year, I forget to be fucking brilliant and do something completely fucking stupid. So fucking stupid that I wonder how its possible that I have made it this far in life without being hit and killed by small children on tricycles and Big Wheels.

I expect and even command you to wallow in my despair and console me beyond what would normally be expected of just anyone. I, of course, am not just anyone. I am the QUEEN of the FUCKING UNIVERSE and I demand empathy, sympathy, and appropriate expletives from you all.

A quick summary:
1. My computer gets a virus.
2. My husband, Sparky, is a computer genious.
3. Sparky has me back up all necesary items from said PC.
4. On Wednesday, I ask Sparky for a blank DVD-RW to burn my photo album too, as it has more than 12,000 photos in it and won't fit on a CD at 3.9 gigs.
5. On Thursday, I delete all folders and files no longer needed and let him have at fixing the damn thing.
6. I might add that I work online and have a shitload of programs due to that.
7. Sparky spends all night Thursday and into the morning of Friday formating my PC and reinstalling all needed programs so that I can work as per usual on Friday morning. He's a genious. Everything in and running perfectly. (As are our other 10+ computers in the house.)
8. On Saturday, I decide its time to update my blog. I decide to grab a photo.
9. My moronic stupidity slaps me squarely in the face.
10. I only spoke about copying the photos, I never actually did it. Somehow my mind allowed me to assume since I had spoken about it, that I had done it as well.
11. 12,000 photos gone. Hundreds of hours of work on said photos. Graduations, weddings, holidays, babys, children, pets, travels, the lot. Gone. (I used to have a photography site, its my hobby, its a passion.)
12. My sorrow and loss is incomprehensible.

Sparky spent hours searching and found a program to recover files from an erased and newly formatted hard-drive. After 2 days of recovery, I have gotten back approximately 3000 photos. I will never have all back that I lost but some is better than none.

The British are brilliant. You all should marry one as well.

I shall be back tomorrow with my usual fucking brilliance, wit, and charm. Today I am wallowing in self-pity.

PS: A private thank-you to RD who unknowingly sent a wonderful email at just the perfect time, which cheered me up immensely. You are appreciated more than you know.

Welcome To English Language Maceration

Follow these instructions exactly.

Don't ask any stupid questions.

It's all spelled out right in front of you.

This man says it perfectly.

I hate you ALL.

No exceptions.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If you are not stolen, don't bother.


You'd just be in the way.
Please die over there instead.

Life's Little Bits of Bullshit

Time Warner Cable. What a crock of shit. Have you tried calling them? First you get an automated computer voice that apologizes for not understanding you. However, if your response to one of its questions is "fuck off and die" the voice says "I'm sorry, I don't understand. Let me connect you with a service technician." Next time I'll skip the rest of the bullshit and say that immediately.

After this irritatingly long process, you are immediately placed on hold and forced to listen to continued advertisements for their products and services. Average time on hold: 45 fucking minutes. I will concede that now that has changed slightly. Now, 2 minutes into the holding pattern, another computer voice apologizes for your wait, tells you how utterly important you are to them, then informs you of your wait time - 20 to 25 minutes. Before, you were left in the dark as to how long you would wait in this perpetual hell of ads and apologies. Now you can fuck off and take a shower while you hold.

Yesterday morning, the DVR died. I have hours of shows and movies taped on it. I contact the company via Live Support Chat (new trick I learned, takes one-quarter of the time calling them does). They do the usual bullshit "unplug it and plug it back in" like I'm too much of a fucking moron to know if its really broken or not. Then, sadly I am informed they are very, very sorry but my DVR is broken. No shit, thats what I told you in the first place you fucking dipshit. They are also "very, very sorry" to inform me that all things taped and saved on the DVR will be lost and that I need to find my nearest company office and exchange my DVR for a new one. For this service and various viewing packages, I pay $100.00 a month, and they are sorry and can I do their fucking job for them? Fuck you, no I cannot. Bring me a new DVR yourself bitch, thats what I pay you for. Don't even get me fucking started with their out of country service representatives. If I wanted to speak to some moron I cannot understand who lives in India, I would call India.