November 2nd was, well, painful. It hurts to even think about that night- a night that started with such hope and ended with complete despair.
Many democrats have been in mourning... almost as if we're recovering from a national tragedy. In the eyes of many, the reelection of Bush was a national tragedy.
The night started off well enough. I spent the afternoon hanging out at the polls with a group of local dems. We handed out fliers and chatted confidently about the election. Folks from the local dem headquarters brought us all french fries and sodas. Voters thanked us for coming out. With few exceptions, they smiled and even cheered at our Kerry signs. The only notable exception was a driveby yelling of "Kerry's a faaaaag!" Duely noted, good sir. And sadly, an excellent campaign strategy, in hindsight.
Back at my house, I had a small gathering of friends- Kerry supporters who were hungry for change. My good friend Ryan came over early. An ardent Kerry supporter, he was eager for a night of witty political banter as the results came in.
"Have they called anything? Have they called anything? MY GOD WOMAN! I've been in the car for 2 hours! HAVE THEY CALLED ANYTHING?" He screamed as he rushed through the door.
"Uhhhh, just Kentucky." I replied.
Although breathless, he still managed a heartfelt "FUCK Kentucky!"
Okay, so make that "witty political banter" as well as "drunken cursing." Really, the latter far outweighed the former.
People trickled in and we could feel the change in the air. Tonight was the night we would save America. We donned Kerry buttons and stickers. We wore patriotically colored beads around our necks. We gathered around the television for a night that was sure to change our country for the better.
Apparently, the rest of America hadn't gotten the memo.
I swore to myself that life simply couldn't go on if Florida went red. I had worked too hard. I had cared too much. The results from Florida began pouring in and things looked bleak. But Ryan wasn't phazed a bit:
"They haven't counted Broward yet! What the hell are you worried about?!? THEY HAVEN'T FUCKING COUNTED BROWARD!"
(for non-floridians, Broward county is one of the largest democratic strongholds in Florida. Ryan's faith in humanity rested with Broward county. No pressure or anything, though.)
Then the Broward results started coming in... and they clearly wouldn't be enough.
"20%! They've only counted 20% of Broward and you're worried? FUCK 20%!"
Fifteen minutes later...
"50%! They've only counted 50%! That's nothing! Broward'll pull us through!"
Fifteen minutes later:
"99%! Who gives a shit about 99%? Broward won't let us down! We can still..."
"100%. Huh. FUCK Broward."
At that point, most had left the party so they could cry in the privacy of their homes. The rest of us decided it was in our best interests to turn off the TV. The ultimate concession speech on election night is not the one made by the candidates: it's the one made by the lifelong partisans who say "Turn off CNN. Let's play some boardgames."
Ryan was curled up in a recliner, clutching a throw pillow and rocking nervously.
"What happened in Broward?" he mumbled like a child trying to cope with the loss of a favorite pet.
And much like the parents of that child, we didn't know what to tell him. How do you explain that no matter how much we all loved Broward, we had to let it go?
Probably unlike the parents of that child, I handed him a bottle of wine instead of a cheesy consolation speech.
The night wore on and we pretended that we were fine. Our eyes darted nervously, trying to avoid the streamers and balloons that decked the apartment walls. Suddenly, my celebratory decorations seemed to be mocking me and everything I stood for.
Ryan passed out on the couch that night and the next morning we set about to take down the decor. I tried to convince myself that this act was cathartic. But with every balloon I popped, I felt my soul deflating along with it.
And today, I wonder...
Has it really been nearly a month since that awful night? Has life really gone on like nothing happened? Am I really so melodramatic that I would compare popping balloons to the deflation of my soul?
The answers are yes, yes, and fuck yes.
I still haven't found a cheesy consolation speech to replace the bottle of wine. I still feel disconnected- not just from my government, but from my neighbors, my co-workers and my country. I still don't know why the fuck Broward didn't pull us through. Come ON, Broward!
But I do know this: In the spirit of Ryan Kent, who is probably in a straight jacket somewhere mumbling about a Broward recount, I must say:
FUCK November second.
11.29.2004
11.26.2004
Smooth Operator... really was an operator this time.
Lightning has struck me twice within the past week. How? How do these jackasses just flock to me?
Tonight, as I do many nights at work, I had to call our alarm monitoring company. We had a fire alarm going off, but no fire. So, this is my job. This is the important part.
Every few weeks they call and say:
"We have an alarm going off at your location."
To which I reply:
"Oh shit. Don't send the fire department. Really. I promise. There's no fire. Our alarms just have a sick sense of humor."
To which they reply:
"Too late. They've already been dispatched."
To which I reply:
"I know. Mother fuck, I know."
It's a nice little routine we have going. But someone decided to fuck that up in a nasty way for me tonight.
I called and asked to have our alarms put on "test," which is basically a preemptive strike to keep the fuzz from coming out when I know there will be false alarms. I do this often enough that the veteran operators at the monitoring company know me by voice, name, and building code. Woot.
So this new jackass starts off innocently enough. Don't they all. He asked me how my Thanksgiving was. Fine, buddy. He mentioned that I "sounded reeeeaaally young."
Note to, um, everyone. DON'T ever tell a woman (PARTICULARLY one that you've never spoken to before, or know only in a business sense) over the phone that she sounds "reeeaaally young." In your sick little world, it may seem like a compliment. It Is Not. It is the biggest "creepy porn-obsessed asshole" alert you could ever give off.
I just sighed and went on with my business. "put this on test, blah blah blah." But no. He wasn't content to have me just strongly suspicious of him. He needed me to know for sure that he was a full on, butt-dangling, turd.
He lowered his voice and said cockily "Are you a little girl who's calling about your daddy's business?"
Um. Eh? That is one weird-ass phone sex fantasy, buddy.
As is expected, I yelled at the worthless little shit and got his operator number. He's #34 in case anyone wants a heads up.
Tonight, as I do many nights at work, I had to call our alarm monitoring company. We had a fire alarm going off, but no fire. So, this is my job. This is the important part.
Every few weeks they call and say:
"We have an alarm going off at your location."
To which I reply:
"Oh shit. Don't send the fire department. Really. I promise. There's no fire. Our alarms just have a sick sense of humor."
To which they reply:
"Too late. They've already been dispatched."
To which I reply:
"I know. Mother fuck, I know."
It's a nice little routine we have going. But someone decided to fuck that up in a nasty way for me tonight.
I called and asked to have our alarms put on "test," which is basically a preemptive strike to keep the fuzz from coming out when I know there will be false alarms. I do this often enough that the veteran operators at the monitoring company know me by voice, name, and building code. Woot.
So this new jackass starts off innocently enough. Don't they all. He asked me how my Thanksgiving was. Fine, buddy. He mentioned that I "sounded reeeeaaally young."
Note to, um, everyone. DON'T ever tell a woman (PARTICULARLY one that you've never spoken to before, or know only in a business sense) over the phone that she sounds "reeeaaally young." In your sick little world, it may seem like a compliment. It Is Not. It is the biggest "creepy porn-obsessed asshole" alert you could ever give off.
I just sighed and went on with my business. "put this on test, blah blah blah." But no. He wasn't content to have me just strongly suspicious of him. He needed me to know for sure that he was a full on, butt-dangling, turd.
He lowered his voice and said cockily "Are you a little girl who's calling about your daddy's business?"
Um. Eh? That is one weird-ass phone sex fantasy, buddy.
As is expected, I yelled at the worthless little shit and got his operator number. He's #34 in case anyone wants a heads up.
11.21.2004
Smooth Operator
Oh boys. When will you learn?
Normally I get really aggravated when someone hits on me at work. First of all, I think it's just rude. When I'm at work, I can't exactly walk away from you, nor can I tell you to go fuck yourself. So I'm immediately at a disadvantage. All I can really do is paste a smile on, pretend to be busy, and hope that you'll leave quickly.
But they NEVER LEAVE QUICKLY!
Not quickly enough for my tastes, anyway.
I think that much of the problem stems from a vicious rumor that many men buy into. Often, they seem to assume that all women are inherently complicated and... compulsive liars, I suppose. If we look interested, we want them. If we look disinterested, we're being coy. And if we kick them in their shins, and call them fuckturds, then we have both turret's syndrome and unwieldy reflexes. But make no mistake. We still want them.
The other thing is that there is so much confusion on what attracts women. For instance tonight's specimen, Mr DeathMetal, apparently had decided that the following would sweep me off my feet:
- an extensive knowledge of Slayer.
- the random and seemingly forced statement that he had lots of money (which fit awkwardly, if at all, into the conversation with the poorly placed "It's a good thing you don't work in a bank. Then you'd see my account and only want me for my money.")
- the assertion, after approximately 30 seconds of artificial chit-chat that "people are stupid... but you're like a genius." Okay, I *am* a genius, but even my overly-inflated ego won't let me believe that that was sincere.
- the comment that manual labor was beneath him (might want to ask a girl's stance on union issues before trashing labor.)
- oh! and he owns a lawn care business. But don't worry. He only stops in to keep the employees in line- he makes *them* do all the work. Note: owning a "lawn care business" is 22 year old code for "I have a cell phone and a weedwhacker." Oh, and see the previous comment re: the trashing of labor.
But that part was only mildly painful. The part that really made my brain cells suicidal was the *philosophy* talk. He wanted to know what I thought about The Matrix and how it related to life. Um. Maybe he didn't get the memo, but I believe that talking-point dates back to the ancient flirtation attempts of 1999 amateur philosophers. Here in modern day civilization, we've moved on to... oh, let's say, the Spongebob movie. And, you know, how it relates to... stuff.
And once they find out my major, it's all over. I'm doomed. This captain goes down with the ship. If I had known that "aerospace engineering" was goober-guy code for "likes to talk about cars," I would have majored in puppies.
But all this work on his part was for naught. And that's what helped me get through the ordeal. The best thing about being married (aside from that whole love thing) is that you have a foolproof way to get out of an awkward situation. So when he FINALLY got to the point: "can we hang out sometime," I was able to cut him off with "well, between school and work, I barely even get to see my husband, so I don't think so."
Well, it used to be foolproof.
Apparently, the whole marriage thing just doesn't phase guys like it used to. Instead of backing away slowly like they ought to, they just try to manuever around it. "Oh yeah? Where's the ring?"
I don't wear one. So sue me!
"What's your new last name?"
I didn't change it. So bite me!
And then there's the attempt to get a financial advantage over the ball-and-chain. "what does he do for a living?" is typically followed by a see-through attempt at "well here's what I do, and here's why I make more money."
Look, I met Mr. Wankershanks before he had a job. I started dating him when he delivered pizzas and I moved in with him after he got fired from a BAR. I'm really glad that other guys keep reminding me that I'm only concerned about money because, apparently, I keep forgetting!
As I was saying earlier. Normally, I get really aggravated when someone hits on me at work. But sometimes, when the planets line up just right and the pick up lines are so consistently bad, even I can laugh and enjoy it. So thank you, Mr. DeathMetal. You have brightened my day.
But if you ever darken my doorway again, I'll feed you to the manual laborers.
Normally I get really aggravated when someone hits on me at work. First of all, I think it's just rude. When I'm at work, I can't exactly walk away from you, nor can I tell you to go fuck yourself. So I'm immediately at a disadvantage. All I can really do is paste a smile on, pretend to be busy, and hope that you'll leave quickly.
But they NEVER LEAVE QUICKLY!
Not quickly enough for my tastes, anyway.
I think that much of the problem stems from a vicious rumor that many men buy into. Often, they seem to assume that all women are inherently complicated and... compulsive liars, I suppose. If we look interested, we want them. If we look disinterested, we're being coy. And if we kick them in their shins, and call them fuckturds, then we have both turret's syndrome and unwieldy reflexes. But make no mistake. We still want them.
The other thing is that there is so much confusion on what attracts women. For instance tonight's specimen, Mr DeathMetal, apparently had decided that the following would sweep me off my feet:
- an extensive knowledge of Slayer.
- the random and seemingly forced statement that he had lots of money (which fit awkwardly, if at all, into the conversation with the poorly placed "It's a good thing you don't work in a bank. Then you'd see my account and only want me for my money.")
- the assertion, after approximately 30 seconds of artificial chit-chat that "people are stupid... but you're like a genius." Okay, I *am* a genius, but even my overly-inflated ego won't let me believe that that was sincere.
- the comment that manual labor was beneath him (might want to ask a girl's stance on union issues before trashing labor.)
- oh! and he owns a lawn care business. But don't worry. He only stops in to keep the employees in line- he makes *them* do all the work. Note: owning a "lawn care business" is 22 year old code for "I have a cell phone and a weedwhacker." Oh, and see the previous comment re: the trashing of labor.
But that part was only mildly painful. The part that really made my brain cells suicidal was the *philosophy* talk. He wanted to know what I thought about The Matrix and how it related to life. Um. Maybe he didn't get the memo, but I believe that talking-point dates back to the ancient flirtation attempts of 1999 amateur philosophers. Here in modern day civilization, we've moved on to... oh, let's say, the Spongebob movie. And, you know, how it relates to... stuff.
And once they find out my major, it's all over. I'm doomed. This captain goes down with the ship. If I had known that "aerospace engineering" was goober-guy code for "likes to talk about cars," I would have majored in puppies.
But all this work on his part was for naught. And that's what helped me get through the ordeal. The best thing about being married (aside from that whole love thing) is that you have a foolproof way to get out of an awkward situation. So when he FINALLY got to the point: "can we hang out sometime," I was able to cut him off with "well, between school and work, I barely even get to see my husband, so I don't think so."
Well, it used to be foolproof.
Apparently, the whole marriage thing just doesn't phase guys like it used to. Instead of backing away slowly like they ought to, they just try to manuever around it. "Oh yeah? Where's the ring?"
I don't wear one. So sue me!
"What's your new last name?"
I didn't change it. So bite me!
And then there's the attempt to get a financial advantage over the ball-and-chain. "what does he do for a living?" is typically followed by a see-through attempt at "well here's what I do, and here's why I make more money."
Look, I met Mr. Wankershanks before he had a job. I started dating him when he delivered pizzas and I moved in with him after he got fired from a BAR. I'm really glad that other guys keep reminding me that I'm only concerned about money because, apparently, I keep forgetting!
As I was saying earlier. Normally, I get really aggravated when someone hits on me at work. But sometimes, when the planets line up just right and the pick up lines are so consistently bad, even I can laugh and enjoy it. So thank you, Mr. DeathMetal. You have brightened my day.
But if you ever darken my doorway again, I'll feed you to the manual laborers.
11.20.2004
update- flavian's alive
Call off the candlelight vigil. Flavian is alive. Apparently, reports of his death have been greatly exaggerated, as they say, although I think he enjoys the attention. So don't be surprised if he starts claiming to be dead anytime now. He's sneaky like that.
So there have been no new run-ins with porch guy. I'll be going over there on sunday, though, so we'll see what transpires.
I plan to wear running shoes just in case.
So there have been no new run-ins with porch guy. I'll be going over there on sunday, though, so we'll see what transpires.
I plan to wear running shoes just in case.
11.19.2004
porch guy update
So I talked to Flavian. Porch guy is getting creepier by the day. New reports from eyewitnesses (aka flavian) indicate that porch guy was standing inside his apartment with the blinds open when flavian got home from work the other day. Oh- did I mention that porch guy was bare-assed naked?
Cause he was.
When Flavian noticed him staring, porch guy reportedly looked really pissed off.
I haven't talked to Flavian in 2 days.
I believe a candlelight vigil is in order. If anyone finds the remains of a 22 year old computer nerd, wrapped in a blanket that says "blanket" in binary, please contact me immediately.
Cause he was.
When Flavian noticed him staring, porch guy reportedly looked really pissed off.
I haven't talked to Flavian in 2 days.
I believe a candlelight vigil is in order. If anyone finds the remains of a 22 year old computer nerd, wrapped in a blanket that says "blanket" in binary, please contact me immediately.
11.14.2004
Flavian, save me from your neighbors.
Serial killers. They may be morbidly fascinating to watch on Court TV, but you do not want one living near you. Really. They're not good neighbors.
So I went to visit my friend Brian (aka flavian, aka guy incognito) today. He just moved to the central florida area, and found himself with a very limited apartment selection due to the recent hurricane damage. Actually, he only had one option, and that one was not particularly pretty. But what are you going to do? He took it, and moved in last week.
I pulled my car into his new apartment complex and saw a man standing on a porch near Brian's new home. New neighbors. Exciting, isn't it? He had no shirt. Quite possibly no pants, but *dear god* I wasn't about to get close enough to look. I soon realized that he was staring at me. I gave the required nod of acknowledgement, sure that this would end the staring.
It didn't.
His creepy, serial-killer eyes followed me all the way to Brian's front door. I was practically screeching when I got there.
"Did you KNOW your neighbor is a goddamned, creepy-ass, serial-killer? He will not stop leering at me! Thank god I don't sleep here, cause he would gladly kill me during it!"
"Oh- you mean 'porch guy?' Yeah, he does that."
Um. ok.
Apparently, this was a serious step-up for Brian as far as neighbors go. His last one was cheerfully nicknamed 'old prostitute guy,' and quite possibly died in his apartment, with his body rotting in there for 3 full weeks. Brian has no proof of his passing other than flimsy circumstantial evidence, but he feels confident in his morbid theory. According to him, 'old prositute guy' wasn't the type to just up and leave. He had roots in his community. Whatever, Brian.
But back to 'porch guy.' Brian informed me that when he first arrived, he too noticed 'porch guy' leering at him. Not only that, but after Brian was safely inside his apartment, 'porch guy' walked over to Brian's car, and made two slow, suspicious laps around it, before going back to his clothing-optional post.
This made me feel slightly better. At least I wasn't being singled out by our local mass-murderer. He was into Brian too. And Brian has a newer car to steal.
Looks like you'll be taking one for the team, buddy.
So I went to visit my friend Brian (aka flavian, aka guy incognito) today. He just moved to the central florida area, and found himself with a very limited apartment selection due to the recent hurricane damage. Actually, he only had one option, and that one was not particularly pretty. But what are you going to do? He took it, and moved in last week.
I pulled my car into his new apartment complex and saw a man standing on a porch near Brian's new home. New neighbors. Exciting, isn't it? He had no shirt. Quite possibly no pants, but *dear god* I wasn't about to get close enough to look. I soon realized that he was staring at me. I gave the required nod of acknowledgement, sure that this would end the staring.
It didn't.
His creepy, serial-killer eyes followed me all the way to Brian's front door. I was practically screeching when I got there.
"Did you KNOW your neighbor is a goddamned, creepy-ass, serial-killer? He will not stop leering at me! Thank god I don't sleep here, cause he would gladly kill me during it!"
"Oh- you mean 'porch guy?' Yeah, he does that."
Um. ok.
Apparently, this was a serious step-up for Brian as far as neighbors go. His last one was cheerfully nicknamed 'old prostitute guy,' and quite possibly died in his apartment, with his body rotting in there for 3 full weeks. Brian has no proof of his passing other than flimsy circumstantial evidence, but he feels confident in his morbid theory. According to him, 'old prositute guy' wasn't the type to just up and leave. He had roots in his community. Whatever, Brian.
But back to 'porch guy.' Brian informed me that when he first arrived, he too noticed 'porch guy' leering at him. Not only that, but after Brian was safely inside his apartment, 'porch guy' walked over to Brian's car, and made two slow, suspicious laps around it, before going back to his clothing-optional post.
This made me feel slightly better. At least I wasn't being singled out by our local mass-murderer. He was into Brian too. And Brian has a newer car to steal.
Looks like you'll be taking one for the team, buddy.
A note to flight mechanics professors everywhere:
When you're saying "P sub S" in class, as in, "the letter P with a subcript of S," PLEASE make sure to enunciate.
Cause as a barely-awake student, all I'm hearing is "In this problem, we need to find the correct piece of ass."
And I *hate* being forced to snicker like a 10 year old in my senior-level classes.
Cause as a barely-awake student, all I'm hearing is "In this problem, we need to find the correct piece of ass."
And I *hate* being forced to snicker like a 10 year old in my senior-level classes.
Welcome to Kerry Country
Okay, okay okay. I haven't posted anything for a while. Sorry bout that. I've mostly been stewing in bitterness, disbelief, and a bit of vegetable boullion.
But after much moping and a few suicide attempts, I've come to a conclusion. I can't force other people to see the world my way. I can't shove tolerance down the throats of those I can't tolerate. I can't change the outcome of this election.
I can, however, ignore it.
So that's the plan right now. There's a 2 bedroom apartment in central florida that is now, and will forever be, "Kerry country."
At first I wondered if this was a little too loopy even for me. Then I remembered Bush's first presidency. You know, the one that he didn't actually win. If that man could last 4 years running an entire country on delusion, then I could run my 800 square feet that way.
So the inauguration is set for Jan. 20. President Kerry is formally invited, but we likely will just have to pretend he's there. That's okay. It goes well with the theme: "Imaguration 2004!!"
But after much moping and a few suicide attempts, I've come to a conclusion. I can't force other people to see the world my way. I can't shove tolerance down the throats of those I can't tolerate. I can't change the outcome of this election.
I can, however, ignore it.
So that's the plan right now. There's a 2 bedroom apartment in central florida that is now, and will forever be, "Kerry country."
At first I wondered if this was a little too loopy even for me. Then I remembered Bush's first presidency. You know, the one that he didn't actually win. If that man could last 4 years running an entire country on delusion, then I could run my 800 square feet that way.
So the inauguration is set for Jan. 20. President Kerry is formally invited, but we likely will just have to pretend he's there. That's okay. It goes well with the theme: "Imaguration 2004!!"
10.23.2004
the proof is in the polls
Now, for a long time, people have said that I'm a partisan asshole whenever I claim that Bush supporters are stupid.
Stupid is usually an "opinion" kinda thing. But thanks to a new poll by www.PIPA.org, the realms of "opinion" and "fact" are being blurred in a wonderful way.
Essentially, although the people at PIPA were entirely too lame to state the obvious, the above poll shows that Bush has a stronghold in lala land. I wonder how many electoral votes that'll get him?
Stupid is usually an "opinion" kinda thing. But thanks to a new poll by www.PIPA.org, the realms of "opinion" and "fact" are being blurred in a wonderful way.
Even after the final report of Charles Duelfer to Congress saying that Iraq did not have a significant WMD program, 72% of Bush supporters continue to believe that Iraq had actual WMD (47%) or a major program for developing them (25%). 75% of Bush supporters continue to believe that Iraq was providing substantial support to al QaedaFifty-six percent assume that most experts believe Iraq had actual WMD and 57% also assume, incorrectly, that Duelfer concluded Iraq had at least a major WMD program. Kerry supporters hold opposite beliefs on all these points.
Similarly, , and 63% believe that clear evidence of this support has been found. Sixty percent of Bush supporters assume that this is also the conclusion of most experts, and 55% assume, incorrectly, that this was the conclusion of the 9/11 Commission. Here again, large majorities of Kerry supporters have exactly opposite perceptions.
Essentially, although the people at PIPA were entirely too lame to state the obvious, the above poll shows that Bush has a stronghold in lala land. I wonder how many electoral votes that'll get him?
10.22.2004
This just in!
Preliminary reports indicate that some college kids threw pies at Ann Coulter. This is a second hand report courtesy of my good friend from http://www.livejournal.com/users/metalprophet/.
I will post updates as they become available.
... update- apparently, the first pie missed her, while the second one grazed her shoulder as she fled the scene. Still scanning for a link. No word yet as to the pie flavor, although I think we can all agree that Boysenberry would add a nice touch of class to this otherwise low-brow pieing.
I've heard speculations that cream pies were employed. This would disappoint me tremendously.
... update- word is, the scene of the crime was Arizona State University.
... update- FINALLY! It was CUSTARD!!
Way to keep me guessing, boys!
... last update: there is a VIDEO!
I will post updates as they become available.
... update- apparently, the first pie missed her, while the second one grazed her shoulder as she fled the scene. Still scanning for a link. No word yet as to the pie flavor, although I think we can all agree that Boysenberry would add a nice touch of class to this otherwise low-brow pieing.
I've heard speculations that cream pies were employed. This would disappoint me tremendously.
... update- word is, the scene of the crime was Arizona State University.
... update- FINALLY! It was CUSTARD!!
Way to keep me guessing, boys!
... last update: there is a VIDEO!
I aim to please
Wow. Apparently my blog is high up on Google for Brytec Roofing hits. Seriously, I've gotten more traffic from that little rant than I have from all my frozen dinner reviews and my tampon-talk *combined.*
The people have spoken.
First of all, for those of you playing along at home... here's a link to my first rant about the topic: rant!
Now for the updates: there aren't any. Well, not really. I called Brytec Roofing a few times after writing my last post. The phone just rang and rang. So, I called another number I hadn't called recently and... they picked up immediately. Yipee. I was told that the guy I needed to speak with wasn't there. Surprise. I said I wasn't hanging up until he got on the phone. Within 30 seconds, he was magically on the phone.
Here's a general replay:
me:"you ruined my stuff. where's this insurance money I was promised, buckaroo?"
him: "bullshit blah blah bullshit."
me:"my stuff is really, REALLY ruined."
him: "oops."
Okay- not word for word, but you get the gist. He's saying one thing, the apartment complex is saying another... I really don't care who the bigger douchebag is here. I'm not going to compare the two on a scale of doucheitude. I just need to get this taken care of so that I can go back to having a life that's only *incredibly* stressful instead of *unbearably* stressful.
Is that really too much to ask?
Oh- and to the good folks at Brytec, and their lousy web designers, here's a helpful tip: If you're going to implore people to "call today!" then you just might want to include a phone number on your webpage. Just a thought, you know... (see Brytecwww.brytecroofing.com for the amazingly information-free website)
The people have spoken.
First of all, for those of you playing along at home... here's a link to my first rant about the topic: rant!
Now for the updates: there aren't any. Well, not really. I called Brytec Roofing a few times after writing my last post. The phone just rang and rang. So, I called another number I hadn't called recently and... they picked up immediately. Yipee. I was told that the guy I needed to speak with wasn't there. Surprise. I said I wasn't hanging up until he got on the phone. Within 30 seconds, he was magically on the phone.
Here's a general replay:
me:"you ruined my stuff. where's this insurance money I was promised, buckaroo?"
him: "bullshit blah blah bullshit."
me:"my stuff is really, REALLY ruined."
him: "oops."
Okay- not word for word, but you get the gist. He's saying one thing, the apartment complex is saying another... I really don't care who the bigger douchebag is here. I'm not going to compare the two on a scale of doucheitude. I just need to get this taken care of so that I can go back to having a life that's only *incredibly* stressful instead of *unbearably* stressful.
Is that really too much to ask?
Oh- and to the good folks at Brytec, and their lousy web designers, here's a helpful tip: If you're going to implore people to "call today!" then you just might want to include a phone number on your webpage. Just a thought, you know... (see Brytecwww.brytecroofing.com for the amazingly information-free website)
10.17.2004
Hey Asshole!
Whoever found my blog by searching for "women over 40 fucking," this blog is just for your sorry ass.
Go fuck yourself. Seriously. Take your nasty little porn-crazed self away from civilized society. And don't EVER come to my blog again.
Go fuck yourself. Seriously. Take your nasty little porn-crazed self away from civilized society. And don't EVER come to my blog again.
10.16.2004
huh.
Looks like I haven't posted to my blog in quite a while. Whaddaya know.
Things have been crazy and hectic. The douchebags who fucked my roof up and ruined tons of my shit (Hey Brytec Roofing of Orlando, FL- I'm looking at you!) are avoiding my calls like the plague. If I don't hear back from them by Monday, then I'll start Phase 2 on Tuesday.
They don't want to see Phase 2.
It'll start with a good dose of rapid-fire phone calls. Maybe every 5 minutes? Every 2 minutes? I dunno. We'll see how fast I can dial I suppose.
But we all know that won't work for long. God forbid they discover caller ID. But that's okay. I have their address. I think Wednesday will be a good day to implement Phase 3. Of course, I'm still trying to decide which route to go with Phase 3. There's the firm, businesslike angle of striding into the office, demanding to see someone, and not leaving until my questions are answered. Or, there's the crazy, fun angle of wearing my skivvies outside my pants and staging a one-looney protest on the sidewalk. Both clearly have their appeals.
Then of course, there's Phase 4 where I call the freebie lawyers at the university and ask them to help me get my freaking money, as well as tidy up any harassment issues that I caused via Phase 3.
This is going to be tremendously fun.
Things have been crazy and hectic. The douchebags who fucked my roof up and ruined tons of my shit (Hey Brytec Roofing of Orlando, FL- I'm looking at you!) are avoiding my calls like the plague. If I don't hear back from them by Monday, then I'll start Phase 2 on Tuesday.
They don't want to see Phase 2.
It'll start with a good dose of rapid-fire phone calls. Maybe every 5 minutes? Every 2 minutes? I dunno. We'll see how fast I can dial I suppose.
But we all know that won't work for long. God forbid they discover caller ID. But that's okay. I have their address. I think Wednesday will be a good day to implement Phase 3. Of course, I'm still trying to decide which route to go with Phase 3. There's the firm, businesslike angle of striding into the office, demanding to see someone, and not leaving until my questions are answered. Or, there's the crazy, fun angle of wearing my skivvies outside my pants and staging a one-looney protest on the sidewalk. Both clearly have their appeals.
Then of course, there's Phase 4 where I call the freebie lawyers at the university and ask them to help me get my freaking money, as well as tidy up any harassment issues that I caused via Phase 3.
This is going to be tremendously fun.
10.09.2004
Dred Scott and WTF?
Like many people, I was fucking baffled when Bush mentioned the Dred Scott case in last night's debate. Sooooo... he wasn't going to appoint anyone who was pro-slavery? Ummmm, at this point, I would hope that's a given in this country.
But according to the DailyKos, there's more to this story that many of us saner voters probably missed:
a-ha. Now that makes sense. Apparently among the looney fringe, the Dred Scott decision is frequently used as a parallel to the Roe v Wade decision.
An example from dailykos:
And there you have it. Bush's whole "I'm not telling you!" act was clever- but not clever enough. Much love to the amazingly astute folks at dailykos.
edited cause I should probably add a link to the dailykos page with the info...
http://www.dailykos.com/story/2004/10/9/16460/5820
But according to the DailyKos, there's more to this story that many of us saner voters probably missed:
When Bush made reference to "Dred Scott" he was assuring his anti-choice constituents that he would indeed only appoint Supreme Court justices who would remove abortion rights.
a-ha. Now that makes sense. Apparently among the looney fringe, the Dred Scott decision is frequently used as a parallel to the Roe v Wade decision.
An example from dailykos:
The reasoning in Dred Scott and Roe v. Wade is nearly identical. In both cases the Court stripped all rights from a class of human beings and reduced them to nothing more than the property of others. Compare the arguments the Court used to justify slavery and abortion. Clearly, in the Court's eyes, unborn children are now the same "beings of an inferior order" that the justices considered Blacks to be over a century ago.
And there you have it. Bush's whole "I'm not telling you!" act was clever- but not clever enough. Much love to the amazingly astute folks at dailykos.
edited cause I should probably add a link to the dailykos page with the info...
http://www.dailykos.com/story/2004/10/9/16460/5820
10.08.2004
WOAH! Debate throw down!
Did Bush just yell down the moderator and demand time to respond to Kerry's statements?!?!
Did that just happen?
What the freaking fuck was that????
Did that just happen?
What the freaking fuck was that????
10.03.2004
Fuck bush. I swear to god if that fucking asshole is elected again...
Fuck Bush and fuck the fucking asshat goons in his shithole administration.
Look, I've been entirely too nice to this psychotic chimp we have lose in the white house and I'm fucking fed up.
How dare you. How fucking dare you try to claim that you gave two shits and a fuck about the women in Iraq when you awarded a major grant to the fucking IWF (which Lynne Cheney is conveniently on the board of) to supposedly improve women's lot in Iraq?!?!?!
The Independant Women's Forum, for those of you lucky enough to not be in the know, is the right wing's answer to the axis of evil known as, um, women. Basically, they sit around and try to talk away any study or report that remotely indicates that there is any gender inequality in America.
Check out their website. No sane person could ever consider these folks to be interested in women's rights. Their articles seem to fit into four catagories:
1. Why we love the GOP
2. Why we hate feminists
3. Never trust a woman who "claims" to be raped or sexually harassed
4. Why men and women are so super different and... did we mention we hate feminists?
For instance, there's a great piece by Wendy McElroy (amazingly also a foxnews empoyee!) that talks about the rape scandals at Colorado University. Apparently all that mumbo jumbo about sex parties and an atmosphere that encourages sexual assault must have just been that liberal spin. What REALLY happened was that the university created an atmosphere that encourages sexual assault allegations! False ones. And the reason given for this? Because one dude who used to work for the university's sexual assault awareness organization claims that they used to use rape statistics that some people (aka the IWF) allege are inaccurate.(http://www.iwf.org/issues/issues_detail.asp?ArticleID=574)
And people buy this?!?
So Bush- How exactly do you expect these women to help rape victims when they won't even believe them? I suppose that the rape statistics in Iraq will magically decline once the IWF is on the case. But not from a decrease in rapes.
In other IWF news, the wage gap in the US apparently is "mythical" (despite that pesky census thing that proves otherwise). Global warming is "pseudo-science" (didn't even the Bush administration recently admit that global warming was real? Someone at the IWF better check their right-wing talking-points memos more often) Oh and sexual harassment in the workplace? That's really just a case of "heterophobia" and "antagonism toward men."
Who needs antagonism toward men when there are women willing to cover up sexism in order to get some brownie points from the fellas?
And in return, those fellas apparently toss them a fucking grant so they can teach women worldwide how to shut up and suck up.
Look, I've been entirely too nice to this psychotic chimp we have lose in the white house and I'm fucking fed up.
How dare you. How fucking dare you try to claim that you gave two shits and a fuck about the women in Iraq when you awarded a major grant to the fucking IWF (which Lynne Cheney is conveniently on the board of) to supposedly improve women's lot in Iraq?!?!?!
The Independant Women's Forum, for those of you lucky enough to not be in the know, is the right wing's answer to the axis of evil known as, um, women. Basically, they sit around and try to talk away any study or report that remotely indicates that there is any gender inequality in America.
Check out their website. No sane person could ever consider these folks to be interested in women's rights. Their articles seem to fit into four catagories:
1. Why we love the GOP
2. Why we hate feminists
3. Never trust a woman who "claims" to be raped or sexually harassed
4. Why men and women are so super different and... did we mention we hate feminists?
For instance, there's a great piece by Wendy McElroy (amazingly also a foxnews empoyee!) that talks about the rape scandals at Colorado University. Apparently all that mumbo jumbo about sex parties and an atmosphere that encourages sexual assault must have just been that liberal spin. What REALLY happened was that the university created an atmosphere that encourages sexual assault allegations! False ones. And the reason given for this? Because one dude who used to work for the university's sexual assault awareness organization claims that they used to use rape statistics that some people (aka the IWF) allege are inaccurate.(http://www.iwf.org/issues/issues_detail.asp?ArticleID=574)
And people buy this?!?
So Bush- How exactly do you expect these women to help rape victims when they won't even believe them? I suppose that the rape statistics in Iraq will magically decline once the IWF is on the case. But not from a decrease in rapes.
In other IWF news, the wage gap in the US apparently is "mythical" (despite that pesky census thing that proves otherwise). Global warming is "pseudo-science" (didn't even the Bush administration recently admit that global warming was real? Someone at the IWF better check their right-wing talking-points memos more often) Oh and sexual harassment in the workplace? That's really just a case of "heterophobia" and "antagonism toward men."
Who needs antagonism toward men when there are women willing to cover up sexism in order to get some brownie points from the fellas?
And in return, those fellas apparently toss them a fucking grant so they can teach women worldwide how to shut up and suck up.
He lies like a fox
Apparently, the Chief Political Correspondant for Fox News is quite biased in favor of the right wing. (I know everyone is just shocked and appalled.)
Even more so, he MADE UP quotes from Kerry and plopped them into a fake story that was then posted on Foxnews.com.
Dan Rather to God: "Hallelujah!!!"
Us normal folk would assume that foxnews can't possibly continue on with their hypocritical bashing of the "liberal" media after this, can they?
Oh but they can and they are! Although I was completely unable to find any mention of their tremendous faux-pas on the foxnews.com home page, there were 2 links to tirades about the CBS blunder: one of which actually proposed criminally prosecuting the people involved.
I'm going to love seeing what the Daily Show does with this one. This is one stoned slacker who can't fucking wait.
Even more so, he MADE UP quotes from Kerry and plopped them into a fake story that was then posted on Foxnews.com.
Dan Rather to God: "Hallelujah!!!"
Us normal folk would assume that foxnews can't possibly continue on with their hypocritical bashing of the "liberal" media after this, can they?
Oh but they can and they are! Although I was completely unable to find any mention of their tremendous faux-pas on the foxnews.com home page, there were 2 links to tirades about the CBS blunder: one of which actually proposed criminally prosecuting the people involved.
I'm going to love seeing what the Daily Show does with this one. This is one stoned slacker who can't fucking wait.
10.02.2004
technology gone awry
The tv dinner.
It's beauty lies in it's simplicity. This should be obvious to everyone. Apparently, it is not.
Tonight's Healthy Choice feast required seven- count them- SEVEN steps prior to consumption. Just configuring the box properly was like trying to play Jenga while intoxicated. First you open it, (left side only!!) making sure not to disrupt the integrity of the reinsertion tab. Then you fold the top back and insert the tab (or curse if you ripped the damned tab off). This reveals the super-crust-inducing, titanium coated "heat shield 4000." Place the meal directly on the heat shield 4000 and roll back the Radiation Deflector to fully cover your dinner. You may now nuke the dinner.
And you think it's over, right? You think they've humiliated your intelligence enough over this. Now you push the little "3 minute" button and the "start" button and assume that everything is fine.
But the game's not over yet! As the dinner is whirring around in the microwave you notice, to your complete horror, that you have only completed 5 steps in the preparation process. 5?!?! But there were 7 on the box! Bloody hell!
You go to check the garbage can for the box... but it's not in there! It's whizzing around your microwave, taunting you with the remaining two directions. What could they be... WHAT COULD THEY BE?!?!?!
Clearly, you can't stop the cooking process. You don't want to destroy all your hard work! So you press your face up to the microwave window, despite your recent email forward informing you that this causes immediate retina cancer, and try like hell to read those spinning directions.
"Remove plastic and stir after 1 minute, thirty?!? Mother fu... It's nearly been 1 minute, fourty-five! Goddamned hoity-toity frozen pieces of..."
Okay. Okay. Deep breath. You can do this. What's next?
"Caution: Product will be hot"
"Now that's not even a goddamned instruction! That's a warning! Couldn't they atleast make it a different fucking font?!?! This better be tasty, you Healthy Choice scoundrels."
And it was. I'll give them that. But honestly, with the intellectual marathon it took me to figure out the directions, I could have found a way to spontaneously generate baby ducks from toothpicks and pinesol and make my own foie gras.
It's beauty lies in it's simplicity. This should be obvious to everyone. Apparently, it is not.
Tonight's Healthy Choice feast required seven- count them- SEVEN steps prior to consumption. Just configuring the box properly was like trying to play Jenga while intoxicated. First you open it, (left side only!!) making sure not to disrupt the integrity of the reinsertion tab. Then you fold the top back and insert the tab (or curse if you ripped the damned tab off). This reveals the super-crust-inducing, titanium coated "heat shield 4000." Place the meal directly on the heat shield 4000 and roll back the Radiation Deflector to fully cover your dinner. You may now nuke the dinner.
And you think it's over, right? You think they've humiliated your intelligence enough over this. Now you push the little "3 minute" button and the "start" button and assume that everything is fine.
But the game's not over yet! As the dinner is whirring around in the microwave you notice, to your complete horror, that you have only completed 5 steps in the preparation process. 5?!?! But there were 7 on the box! Bloody hell!
You go to check the garbage can for the box... but it's not in there! It's whizzing around your microwave, taunting you with the remaining two directions. What could they be... WHAT COULD THEY BE?!?!?!
Clearly, you can't stop the cooking process. You don't want to destroy all your hard work! So you press your face up to the microwave window, despite your recent email forward informing you that this causes immediate retina cancer, and try like hell to read those spinning directions.
"Remove plastic and stir after 1 minute, thirty?!? Mother fu... It's nearly been 1 minute, fourty-five! Goddamned hoity-toity frozen pieces of..."
Okay. Okay. Deep breath. You can do this. What's next?
"Caution: Product will be hot"
"Now that's not even a goddamned instruction! That's a warning! Couldn't they atleast make it a different fucking font?!?! This better be tasty, you Healthy Choice scoundrels."
And it was. I'll give them that. But honestly, with the intellectual marathon it took me to figure out the directions, I could have found a way to spontaneously generate baby ducks from toothpicks and pinesol and make my own foie gras.
Tampax Attax
The most widespread phobia in America today seems to be the fear of tampons and their ilk. For women, it's the fear that other people might know that we (gasp!) use them once in a while. There are even products marketed to women that specifically tout their spy-like abilities. There's the pad that comes with a special wrapper that makes no noise... so ze Germans won't hear you approaching! The tampon that comes compacted with telescopic properties that only you know about! And then there are the assortment of cases and clutches that disguise the tampons so as to keep the enemy guessing.
What I'd really love to see is a camoflaged tampon wrapper. Maybe even some sort of chameleon-like cover so it blends into it's surroundings. If I know the tampon industry, I imagine they've already got a prototype or two floating about.
But anyway...
I started thinking about this today because of an incident at work. Apparently, there was a rogue tampon laying near my desk. It was the telescopic tampax kind (apparently, the enemy has gotten word of this technology.) A male coworker spotted it, discretely picked it up, and palmed it over to me like he was slipping me a c-note after some secret office debauchery.
"I didn't think you'd want anyone to see this," he whispered to me.
"Huh." I said. "Thanks. It's actually not mine, but thank you anyway."
I thought this was a reasonable assertion. Sure, it was near my desk, but my desk is in a high traffic area, after all. Apparently, he wasn't buying it.
"Sure. Okay. It's not yours." He said, and walked away with a look that clearly said "We BOTH know that was your tampon."
I thought about stopping him to clarify the situation. But, really, I would have dug myself deeper. I guess it's kinda like when your shoe "farts." You could go through the whole song-and-dance explanation of saying "damned new shoes..." then spending the next ten minutes trying to recreate the noise in order to redeem yourself.
And you know that in the end, it just made you look even guiltier. No matter how advanced our culture gets, people still cling to the age-old proverb that "whoever denied it, supplied it."
And I figure that's probably how it goes with tampons too. Plus, what do I care? He walked away thinking that he had caught me in a web of lies and I walked away thinking "hey, free tampon!"
What I'd really love to see is a camoflaged tampon wrapper. Maybe even some sort of chameleon-like cover so it blends into it's surroundings. If I know the tampon industry, I imagine they've already got a prototype or two floating about.
But anyway...
I started thinking about this today because of an incident at work. Apparently, there was a rogue tampon laying near my desk. It was the telescopic tampax kind (apparently, the enemy has gotten word of this technology.) A male coworker spotted it, discretely picked it up, and palmed it over to me like he was slipping me a c-note after some secret office debauchery.
"I didn't think you'd want anyone to see this," he whispered to me.
"Huh." I said. "Thanks. It's actually not mine, but thank you anyway."
I thought this was a reasonable assertion. Sure, it was near my desk, but my desk is in a high traffic area, after all. Apparently, he wasn't buying it.
"Sure. Okay. It's not yours." He said, and walked away with a look that clearly said "We BOTH know that was your tampon."
I thought about stopping him to clarify the situation. But, really, I would have dug myself deeper. I guess it's kinda like when your shoe "farts." You could go through the whole song-and-dance explanation of saying "damned new shoes..." then spending the next ten minutes trying to recreate the noise in order to redeem yourself.
And you know that in the end, it just made you look even guiltier. No matter how advanced our culture gets, people still cling to the age-old proverb that "whoever denied it, supplied it."
And I figure that's probably how it goes with tampons too. Plus, what do I care? He walked away thinking that he had caught me in a web of lies and I walked away thinking "hey, free tampon!"
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