Category Archives: Things That Annoy

Oh Really, Mr. Spambot?

I got this spam comment on here the other day, and I deleted it because it pissed me off.

And, there’s probably a way to retrieve deleted comments, but damned if I know how.

This post is not about retrieving deleted comments.

It’s about the inability of any blogger to always be on top of her (or his) game.

So Sir Spambot told me he used to come here and read my posts because I was hilarious and uplifting, and now…not so much.

Oh really?

Well, it’s easy to be a critic when that’s all you do.

Which brings me to my next point.

Was this a spammer, or was this an honest opinion?

Doesn’t matter, I deleted it and promptly got all righteous and stuff about how I am such a “brilliant” writer and how dare anyone question my blogging capabilities.

Then I threw up in my mouth a little.

Then I decided I was at least partially right.  At least the part about the difficulties of writing a blog for entertainment purposes.  The rest?  Yeah, not so much.

But, I am honest…or at least I try to be.

Look, whoever you are…if you are a real person…you may have a point.  I maybe don’t always have that edge.  Maybe I’m not all that interesting, maybe I am boring sometimes, but guess what?  This is my little corner of the worldwide web, and if you don’t like it go somewhere else.

More People Should Be Like This Guy

From the SPAM comments:

“This tidings requires knowledgeable definition and is intended for the most part fitted profit by close to health mind a look after workers and facilities/organizations providing haleness disquiet including pharmacies, hospitals, long-term heed facilities, community-based well-being regard ritual providers and pre-hospital danger services”

Frankly, I think we need more people like this on the ‘Net.   Able to provide clear, concise, and well-thought out commentary.

I, for one, feel totally enlightened.

Thank you, Mr. Spambottalksalot.

 

But, But, I Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaant One

I remember watching my grandma’s fancy stand mixer turn out amazing breads, cakes and pies.  I’d stand on a chair mesmerized by the constant motion and *whirr*whirr* sound it made. 

It was thirty pounds of metal and white porcelain, a Kitchenaid by Hobart, and it was magical.

I grew up and in my poverty frugality decided I could make do with a $10 hand mixer.

The Kitchenaid was never far from my mind, though.

Recently we finally paid off the grocery debts from feeding four teenagers for…umm…ever, and now visions of a pretty butteryummy yellow Kitchenaid stand mixer have been dancing in my head.

Naturally, I posed the question of getting one to my husband.

Hubby:  How much does one of those cost?

Me: Oh, three-hundred something.

Hubby: *gasps*chokes* WHAT?

Me: Are you okay?

Hubby: Yes, I just could have sworn you said you wanted to spend $300 on a mixer.

Me: I did.

Hubby: Are you completely insane?

Me: Yes, but what does that have to do with a mixer?

Hubby: No, I mean are you insane enough to think I’d agree to spending $300 on a mixer?

Me: *blink*blink*

And so began hubby’s endless pursuit to convince me that at $350 (as I later found out) no mixer is worth it, unless it churns out real fecking gold…by the pound.

He dug through every post, review, sale, and blurb he could about the Kitchenaid Stand Mixer. 

He found it.

Apparently, when the Hobart Corporation sold it’s interest in the Kitchenaid mixer (and other items), to Whirlpool Corporation in the 1980’s something happened.  And it wasn’t a good thing.

What had once been a damn-near indestructible hunk of metal and porcelain was now metal and plastic/nylon – specifically the gears – and that means it breaks.

A lot.

When Hubby told me this, I had to concede that if I was going to by a stand mixer with a limited life I could buy a $100 one and be just as happy, and less likely to get stabbity when it does break, than I would be if I spent $350.

So, another sweet childhood memory and lifelong dream bites the dust.

Dammit.

Unless………I think I’ll see if Ican convince Hubby to put as much effort into finding a vintage working Kitchenaid stand mixer as he did in finding a reason not to buy a new one.

The Kingdom’s Travails – Day Nine

Life was so simple back then.

If some article of clothing, or household linen, got dirty – mussed in some way or even stained with the tears of mine enemies – the queen could simply toss it into her top-loading beauty, add the necessary chemicals, turn the dial and magically this machine would erase all traces of every transgression in thirty minutes.

But these are dark times for the Kingdom.

The washing machine hath vexed even the noblest of repairmen in the Shire.  It hath brought them to their knees, and coaxed forth curses muttered under sweaty breath as one by one they try to best it and unlock its wizard’s secrets.

Day by day and hour by hour the machine sits quietly and patiently awaiting the next challenger.

Who among the realm’s repairmen can tame the terrible beastie?

Today a new challenger shall enter the lair, and take with him the hoped-for miracle that will once again send the castle into realms of clean socks, clean undies, and clean towels.

The occupants of the castle light a candle and pray the machine is bested, lest the queen be forced to enter the other dragon’s lair (also called a ‘laundromat’) and do battle with numerous beastly machines that steadfastly refuse to dissolve detergents properly or dry clothes without a mound of coins being fed to them that would rival the national debt for all of Ankh-Morpork. 

The last trip the queen made to this terrible place did not end well as the vicious witch of the southerly winds grabbed and clawed at her freshly-laundered and folded clothes as she struggled to place them in her carriage for the trip back to the castle.

Much muttering of unspeakable curses upon all who would vex her so was heard, and the menfolk of the castle did tremble…except the cat, he simply one-eyed the ruckus and went back to sleep.

I fear further outbursts from the queen may involve breakage of nearby objects, and so I light a candle myself and ask the gods of electricity to be kind to the noble Repairman of the Whirlpool today.

The whole of the Shire doth wait with baited breath…

Someone Please Get This Woman Some Grandchildren, STAT!

I just wanted to buy my groceries and go home.  I’m not normally the grumpy-granny type, but in my defense I’d been up about 14 hours already and had just found out that my washer was still not repaired, despite two trips by my very reliable repairman.

The washer is THREE years old, people! THREE!!  And it’s developed some kind of electrical short.  On Tuesday, Sid the Repair Guy came to my house and after much noggin’ scratching decided the electrical problem was definitely the timer mechanism.  Definitely. Without a doubt.

On Wednesday, Sid’s assistant Eddie came out and installed the timer, plugged in the machine and ZAP! Breakers tripped and sparks flew.

Apparently, it’s not the timer. 

On Thursday, Sid and Eddie are both coming out to troubleshoot and (hopefully) figure this thing out, although when all is said and done I probably could have bought a new washer for what this will cost.

Which brings me to my state of grumpocity (it’s a word..now..deal) on Wednesday, when standing in the flour/spices/shit that’s bad for you  aisle I was accosted by a sweet white-haired woman.

“I’m babysitting my granddoggers this weekend, so I have to buy food I can prepare ahead of time.”, she said as I stood looking for an angel food cake mix (I didn’t buy it, by the way).

“Oh, I know what it’s like when the little ones are around.” I said, fully empathizing with the lack of time/energy when you are babysitting the grandkids.

“Yes, and I’m taking my girl with me.”

Her girl? I looked at her. She had to be 80 if she was a day.

“She just loves their back yard.  She gets out there and runs around and gets all muddy and then I have to wash her little feet when she comes inside.  And she knows to stop right inside the back door until I get her cleaned up.”

Dogs..she was talking about dogs.  Grand-dogs, or in her case grand-doggers.

I could tell this conversation was going to keep on keepin’ on, so I did the only thing a woman with a broken washer and piles of laundry at home could do.

I turned around and walked away.

 

For Your Blindness………

Ima just leave you with this wall o’ text. Draw your own conclusions.  Me, I’m going with my initial reaction – that there’s a horde of cats, carrying SPAM, waiting for me at an undisclosed airport location.  I must bring CASH or those drug-addled terrorists a/k/a “cats”, will invade the residence of 3 Diplomats (apparently an obscure band I’ve never heard of – wonder if that makes me less-than-hip?) and wreak havoc, by letting slip the dogs of non-circumvention.  Now, I don’t know what any of that means, but I’m getting my torch and pitchfork mob ready because at the end of all this there just has to be a zombie mob.  There. Just. Has. To. Be.

This is an official notification of the availability of a package deposited in your name and it is not a sales solicitation or SPAM.We are Diplomats that use our immunity and status to safekeep special and valuable packages and baggage in trust for reputable clients that are honest and trustworthy.We work in collaboration with top firms and Governments of various countries as we have earned a name as a service whose hallmarks in reliability and confidentiality are revered.International missions, Fellow Diplomats and Embassies of the world have used our services to satisfaction.A benefactor whose identity can not be disclosed because of the Non Circumvention and Non Disclosure Agreement that was signed with the said benefactor when the packages were being deposited made you the beneficiary of a package containing some amount of money and stated clearly that you should only be contacted when the time signed for it to be in our care elapses and the time has already elapsed that is why you are being contacted.The Non Circumvention and Non Disclosure Agreement signed with the benefactor mandates us to fully divulge and disclose the benefactor’s identity 18 months after the beneficiary has received the funds.We confirm that these funds are fully free of any liens, or encumbrances and are clean, clear and non-criminal origin and are available in the form of CASH.You are hereby advised to send your Full Contact Information as well as the name of the closest airport to your city in the format stated below so that the funds would be brought to your Country of residence by 3 Diplomats who would accompany you to your bank (if you want them to) to deposit the funds in your name and submit all documentations that has to do with the origin of the funds in other to exonerate you from any form of investigations or interrogation and to authenticate the fact that the funds are clean and has no links whatsover with either drugs or terrorism.The Requested Information is to ensure that no mistake or error is made and it should be forwarded in the manner stated below:

Your Full Name: ______________________________ Your cell number:________________________________Your Complete Address: ________________________________ Name of City of Residence: ____________________ Name of Closest Airport to your city of esidence:_________________________________Complete the above and send back to me as soon as possible.Congratulations in advance.

Thank you and I sincerely Remain,

Stephen Herman

Email: herman200@barid.com

Email2:herman2000@barid.com

Cell:+447924428381

I Am Afraid I Might Have to Break Up….

….with my dentist, and it won’t be pretty I tell you.

He’s become something of a stalker lately.

At least once a week since the beginning of January I’ve gotten a text message:

“Hey {name}! It’s time for your checkup!”

And when that doesn’t work someone from his office will call me, and since I never answer when I see it’s them, will leave me this chipper message:

“Hi {name}! We have/had a cancellation/opening this week at {time} on {day}.  Would you like to come in for a check up?”

Mind you, it’s not like it’s been years…no, wait..no…it’s not been years since I’ve been to the dentist.  It’s just that I haven’t been this year and there’s all that insurance money to be spent my dental health to think of.

Now I’m not one of those scaredy-cats when it comes to seeing a dentist – especially since Dr. Feelgood practices sedation dentistry – and God love him for that!   It’s just that I haven’t had time for my semi-annual check up and cleaning yet. 

It’s only February, dude!   Don’t push me!  I’m feeling suffocated here!  I hate to have to say this, but I think we need to take a break.  I need my space.

It’s not you, it’s me.

No..wait…it’s you.  It’s definitely you.

Just give me some time, and maybe I’ll call you. 

Sigh, I hate break-ups.  There’s all that starting over, getting to know someone, and praying they aren’t a psychotic stal—-  

:phone rings:

It’s him……..

Yes, I Realize Valentine’s Day Was Last Week

But, if you had any idea what kind of week last week was for me, you wouldn’t be making such a big deal about my missing Valentine’s Day right now.

For that matter, if you knew how I really feel about Valentine’s Day we wouldn’t even be discussing it.   We’d be talking about the dynamic synergies of post-modern banjos instead, because that would be far less controversial.

Yes, I said ‘controversial’.

I hate Valentine’s Day.

Let me ‘splain.

When I was a kid I remember having Valentine’s Day parties at school.  We’d all bring decorated shoeboxes with little cutouts in the tops and set them on our desks. 

At the appointed hour, we’d go around the room dropping our handwritten Valentines in the boxes of our classmates – always reserving the fanciest ones, with all the glitter on them, for our super-not-so-secret crush.  

Then the teacher would pass out the heart-shaped candies, cookies, and cupcakes with red icing on it that wound up on your face, hands, and clothes.  Every.  Time.

It was fun.  Lots of fun.

I carried on this tradition with my children, until it wasn’t a ‘thing’ anymore and just like that one more party in school went ‘pfffffffft’. 

C’est le vie.

We still had Valentines and cupcakes at home.

Then one day about ten years ago, and my kids had long since grown out of Mom’s Valentine’s Day celebration and onto their own,  I happened to be at the store on Valentine’s Day.

I was getting ready to check out in the Express Lane (no more than 15 items, and God help you if you accidentally overlooked that lone lemon in the bottom of your cart which put you firmly at 16 items as the jackass behind you will LOUDLY proclaim), when I noticed a long, long, long line in front of me.

Everyone in the line was male.  Each was holding flowers, candy, and cards…in some combination – many with all three. 

Every one of them looked sad, depressed and anxious….as if they were in line for vasectomies, not simply to pay for the undying expressions of love they held.

That was when it hit me.

Valentine’s Day is one of those Hallmark holidays, made up to make men feel guilty and women entitled. 

From that day on, I told my husband that if he wanted to give me a card or flowers or candy he better NOT do it on February 14th.   Do it on the 13th, the 15th, or even not at all…just take out the garbage without my asking.  That tells me more about how you feel than any pre-packaged, wrapped in hearts and flowers, sentiment just waiting for you to pay more than it’s worth at the local store does.

It’s been freeing, if sometimes awkward when someone asks me what I ‘got’ for Valentine’s Day and I launch into my tirade about how I hate that day – incidentally, they don’t ask how I feel about too many things after that, so it’s a win!win! for me.

And you know what?  My hubby empties the garbage without my asking a lot more nowadays, too.   Now that, my friends, is romantic.

What the…? Oh Wait, Come Back Here!

You know how you can be driving along and all of a sudden the car in the lane next to you decides that right where you are is right where it needs to be right now?

Twice?

And, you hit the brakes, utter some expletives about the level of intelligence of the driver of said car and honk.

Twice.

And then, the car that almost caused a nasty wreck with lots of damage and plenty of pain for you pulls ahead enough for you to see the logo on the back of the car, and it says “Maserati”.

And you yell, “Come back, I didn’t mean it! Hit me, PLEASE!!!”

Just me, then?  Okay.

Apparently, I’m In the Process of Buying a New House

Well, at least the person who answered the phone at Major Plumbing Company thinks so.

For the record, I’m not.

Also for the record, I need a plumber.

And that’s why I called Major Plumbing Company in the first place.  The conversation went like this:

Major Plumbing Company Receptionist/Scheduler:  Hello, this is MPC, how may I help you?

Me: Yes, I need to get someone to come out and look at a valve in my tub.  I can’t turn the water on.

MPCR/S:  Address?

Me: 123 Everywhere, Anytown, TX

MPCR/S: *silence*

This went on for a few seconds, so I looked at my phone to see if it had dropped the call.  It hadn’t.

Me:  Hello?  Hellooooooo?

A few seconds later….

MPCR/S: And when do you close?

Me: What? This isn’t a new house or a sale.

MPCR/S: Can you verify your address again, because I’m not finding it.

Me: 123 Everywhere Court – or it could be Drive, depends on which map you are looking at, Anytown, TX

MPCR/S: *silence*

By now, I figured out the silence was actually my being put on hold.  I waited just a few seconds and she was back.

MPCR/S: What is your closing date?

Me: (what the hell, let’s have some fun) November 30th, 1997

MPCR/S: Uhhh….

Me: This is not for an inspection.  This is not a new house, this is not a sale.  I need a repair to the valve in my bathtub.

MPCR/S: And who is your builder?

Me: Jack.  Mine is the house that Jack built.

MPCR/S: Is it still under warranty?

Me: I wish…but, no.

MPCR/S: And when is your closing date?

Me: January 4th, 2027

MPCR/S: *silence*

I hung up, thoroughly amused and pissed at the same time.  Major Company lost out when I called Much Smaller and Local Company and scheduled an appointment in less than one minute.

Seriously, though, how stupid can a person be and still be employed.  Because, if that woman is the ‘bar’, then it’s scraping the ground right now.