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The following things were ruined because someone was sick and, instead of staying home where she belonged, spread the illness to Matt, who only has to hear about a cold to catch it:
- the fresh-from-the-oven blueberry-peach cobbler he couldn’t eat
- our plans to fence the evening away
- probably tomorrow’s plans for Thai food
- possibly our plans to head down to see family this weekend
- definitely my mood
Listen. I know it’s a hazard of living in a community and having close contact with other people, but this is the third time in not so many months that he’s contracted a cold from her. Seriously: if you are sick, stay the fuck home. And if you must leave the germiness of your environs to go out and save the world — and for nothing less! — then wash your hands vigorously and DON’T TOUCH OTHER PEOPLE’S SHIT. Oh hell, don’t touch anything. Carry a bottle of Lysol around if you have to, or bleach wipes, or a flame-thrower to really do some disinfecting. Passing along your illness ruins other people’s days and plans, not just your own.
And so help me god, if you get him sick again this year, I will smack you upside the head with the cast-iron skillet I’ll buy ‘specially for the occasion. I’ve been looking for an excuse to get one, and this may be it.
The etiquette mavens at the MSN Miss Manners board have their knickers in a twist because some guest was invited to a (god forbid!) Friday 4 p.m. wedding. How rude! Inconsiderate! Don’t they know that people have, like, JOBS AND STUFF?
*consults old wedding invitation*
Oh, hey, I got married on a Friday at 5 p.m.! Let’s see, why was that again? Surely because I wanted to punish people who had regular 8-5 jobs, and make them travel in rush hour…. Yes, that was it. In fact, here are all the ways I wanted to inconvenience my guests:
1. We changed the location from McCall to Portland, because it would be worse for our guests to drive in weekend rush-hour traffic than to drive eight hours and have to pay for a weekend’s meal and lodgings in a resort town. I know. We were SO THOUGHTLESS.
2. We consulted the schedules of the members of our wedding party and made sure we interfered with graduate school, Alaska fishing season, pregnancies, finals and graduation, and camp. It was hard, but I think we picked a day that maximized inconvenience for EVERYONE.*
3. We knew months in advance precisely what day we were going to be married because, I mean, who our age DOESN’T know what their schedule will be in a year and a half, but we sat on our thumbs because we wanted to wait until the last minute to begin looking at venues (that’s how you get the best one, OBVIOUSLY). Because we hates to plan! WE HATES IT!** And that’s how we ended up with a venue we just adored–I mean, we could have just squeezed its arborvitae hedge and cooed all night at its colonial facade–right next to an active soccer field, with a delightful owner who didn’t lie, swindle, steal, or be rude to us AT ALL!
4. We were also total jerks and even though we tried not to, we ended up finding a location that was handicap-accessible for our grandparents. DARN YOU, GRANDPARENTS, FOR SUPPORTING AND CARING FOR US ALL OUR LIVES. We were really hoping you wouldn’t make it. Oh well.***
5. We also searched and searched for a small venue so we wouldn’t have to invite our entire families, but fuck me, wouldn’t you know that ALL the justices of the peace were taken that day? So we HAD to spend it with people we care about in a venue large enough to hold all of them AND THEIR HUNGRY MOUTHS.
So yes, we did our best to be rude and unmannerly. I hope you’re all sorry you came, or grateful you weren’t invited. You idiots. DON’T YOU KNOW YOU MEAN NOTHING TO US?
* SISTER, it is NOT MY FAULT you ended up all knocked up. But it worked out: Ellia was the cutest flower girl at our wedding, all dressed in her amniotic sac.
** If you don’t get this, then you don’t know me AT ALL.
*** If my grandparent(s) read this, could someone please be sure they understand sarcasm?
I’d like to know what the fuck is up with Facebook. It has obviously accessed my contacts list from my Gmail account (which is a friend search option I NEVER enabled), and now I’m getting “suggestions” to be friends with everyone I’ve ever e-mailed: students, colleagues, the merest of acquaintances. Haven’t found anything on Google to say that others are noticing it, so I guess I’ll keep digging…
i feel very bridget jones in listing this, but here is what i bought after The Husband left me for the weekend to go to a friend’s wedding:
- 1 bottle champagne (cheap)
- 1 frozen pizza
- angel hair pasta
- chili oil (for pasta salad)
- cucumber
- feta (feta = ridiculously expensive in the U.S.)
- 1 loaf bread
- 1 pt. fat-free cottage cheese
- 1 qt. egg whites (for recovering from impending carb binge
but internets, i’m distressed: I FORGOT TO BUY CHOCOLATE.
So I answered a dubious Craigslist writer-wanted posting using my junk e-mail address (Hotmail, it’s good for something). And by “answered” I mean I wrote “Please send more info,” or something totally innocuous like that. I’ve noticed two things since then: an uptick in the spam I’m sent to that account, and that the posting I answered is a total scam.
The response I got purports to be from Instant Type Jobs (instanttypejobs.com), but really it sends you to Freelance Home Writers (freelancehomewriters.com), where you pay to be “trained” and to be given “job tips” (which are really just links to places who are hiring writers, something you could do for free with Google or legit sites like Elance.com). Surprise, surprise, there is no phone number or address anywhere on either website, just e-mail addresses. Scuttle on the Internet says it’s a scam to get monthly payments of $47 from you, and it’s hard to cancel it. The Better Business Bureau does not seem to look favorably upon this organization (it’s got a D rating). So I said scram.
But they didn’t scram — they’re just trying a different name. Because, apparently, they think I’m that stupid. Today I just got a new e-mail from a “different” company. (You’d think that it would be bad business to reply to a query using three different company names, right? Well, I think so too.) Anyway, this one is called Ocala Home Jobs and it has TWO websites, sort of, ocalahomejobs.com and earnmoney99.com (which only redirects you to Ocala Home Jobs), and — no way! — it has no phone number or address, and it just so happens to link to Freelance Home Writers (“rated No. 3 by our clients.” Yeah, No. 3 scam, right behind Nigerian Royalty and cute little girl scouts selling cookies…). It also gives you an annoying pop-up when you try to leave the site which got through my pop-up filter.
So, what am I trying to say? That the following sites are one giant related scam:
- Freelance Home Writers
- Instant Type Jobs
- Ocala Home Jobs
- Earn Money 99
- whitesmoke(dot)com
The great thing is that it only takes about one minute of Googling to find this out, but from the sound of it, a lot of wannabe freelance writers aren’t doing their homework. If these are the people I’m competing with, I feel pretty confident about my possibilities.
My comment about the Broncos QB situation was published on ESPN.com, so can I list that on my C.V.?
In other news, took my bike into the Bicycle Barn yesterday and endured excruciatingly poor, chauvinistic service, which culminated in being charged ten bucks for them putting air in my tires and not fixing, let alone listening to me describe, the problem with the gears (which is that sometimes, the pedals? they do nothing, and I find myself trying to pedal through an intersection with no forward thrust). I despise confrontation, but I’ll be marching back in there today to get either my ten bucks back or my bike actually fixed.
“All-purpose caulk” is not really “all-purpose.” Specifically, it is not for the purpose of caulking tubs and showers because it doesn’t prevent mold and mildew. How do I know this? Because I just spent the better part of two days stripping old (and poorly done), moldy sealant from our bathtub and recaulking it.
Oh, and also? The reason for caulk is to fill in gaps to keep water out. In addition to the edges of the tub, this includes gaps around the faucet so that water doesn’t get into the space between the shower and the wall. You morons.
Tomorrow we can recommence showering.
This is after; “before” is in the trash.
Am celebrating final week in graduate school by alternating head from side to side in pointless attempt to level off sinus pressure. World’s Swiftest Cold set in yesterday evening; by midnight couldn’t sleep for aches, sniffles, pressure, etc. so took World’s Largest Dose of NyQuil and was out like a lightbulb an hour later. Mouth is all cottony now, though, and brain equally fuzzy. Hmm.
In other news, tomorrow is MY LAST TUESDAY IN PULLCOW and Thursday is MY LAST THURSDAY IN PULLCOW and holy tomatoes, people: THREE MORE DAYS AND I’M DONE WITH GRADUATE SCHOOL. Sure, I have to write a paper and grade a set of papers and enter grades after that, but no more commuting.
A rough estimate of the miles I’ve put on the poor Prius is 23,000 in the last two years, just commuting; a rough estimate of the gas money on said commute is around $2,000. Still, I made just enough money to pay the mortgage and my travel expenses every month. So while I wasn’t saving, I wasn’t taking us into debt, either.
And now…now I’ve got to find a job.
So, we’re going to Greece. In fact, in less than three weeks, I’ll be in London, and in three weeks and a day I’ll be in Greece, probably somewhere on the road between Athens and Kalampaka. Nothing can daunt my excitement about this, although the airline industry and its minions are doing a pretty good job of trying.
You might recall that I bought tickets a couple months ago; I’d been watching prices for weeks and bought when they started edging up. Since then, prices have dropped approx. eight hundred dollars.
I find this extraordinarily frustrating: that people like me who plan, wait, and watch get totally screwed by last-minute prices. So I called Expedia, which I booked through because it had the lowest prices, to see if I could get some or all of the difference refunded. Nope. You can only get a refund if the price changes within twenty-four hours. (That is such a stupid gimmick.)
So I asked if I could pay the change fee of around three hundred dollars to “change” to the lower price tickets (why not? we’d come out five hundred bucks ahead, and Expedia would make money off it). But the person taking my call did not understand what I was asking, and kept repeating the we-can’t-refund-you-after-twenty-four-hours spiel. *sigh*
I guess I’ll try calling British Airways to see if they can do anything, and then I’ll try Expedia again to see if I can get a different CSR. One who understands that hey, I want some of my money back, and if, in the future, I have to book on Orbitz or the airline’s own site because of a better chance of getting them to refund me the difference if my flight changes, then so be it.
This is all just to say that it sucks to be a responsible, plan-ahead type of passenger when people who wait till the last minute end up with better deals. I hate getting financially screwed, but especially at times like this.
Nonetheless…three weeks till Greece!
Jay Cutler is going to be traded. Oh, Broncos, you make me cry.
This may be the last post for awhile…or it may be the first of the most fantastic spree of procrastiblogging this world has ever seen. We shall see. My exam questions arrive in a couple hours, at which point I shall (a) freak out, and then (b) immediately go fetal. Who knows what’ll happen after that; if I disappear, I promise to send postcards from exotic but distant locales to let everyone know I’m still alive but for pete’s sake don’t come looking for me until the statute of limitations for my graduate program has elapsed.*
So, here are a few things that I feel compelled to note before I go into that dark, dark place:
Snowy
Yesterday I was pretty thankful we hadn’t taken off the studded tires on the Prius as I drove home IN AN EFFING BLIZZARD. Srsly. The road was so quiet in two inches of snow and it felt like I was driving through space with the white flakes whizzing past like stars. Had my hands not been clamped to the steering wheel, I would’ve taken a photo.
Phone
Um, my phone has stopped taking calls regularly. So I’m not ignoring calls as much as I’m just not getting them. This may or may not be a major problem next week when I’m in San Francisco.
Fuckwittage
I should probably make this clear: now is not the time to fuck with me. Jokes aren’t funny, I am not a good sport, and yeah, I’m going to be super selfish and bitchy** for the next seventy-five-ish hours. Ye be warned.
*this, of course, doesn’t really exist. But I imagine they’d be pretty pissed about me dropping out mid-final-semester.
**yeah, I know, so let me clarify: MORESO THAN USUAL
When it came time to sign up for presentations in my seminar this semester, I took care to choose one well after my portfolio, exam, and oral defense were finished. And then, in a fit of gallantry for my colleague who had everything due in a span of these two weeks, I offered to switch dates with her. So it is that I am presenting on a particularly impenetrable text tomorrow, and the only thing I can think to use as an example of democratizing technology is Cylons and BSG. That 4.0 gpa I was bragging about in my previous post…: Ah, Pride? Let me introduce you to my Fall.
In other but related news, today I broke into furious sobs after spilling some coffee grounds on the counter. At the time it seemed like such an apt metaphor for, like, life or control or messiness…something, y’know, all deep and shit.
For those of you considering graduate school, are you effing crazy? well, good luck.
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