Hey Jasem, do this: close your laptop, put everything back in the box, and return it to the store where your purchased it. If you can’t figure out how to plug in an Apple laptop, you have no business using any technology whatsoever.
Apple has made this about as easy as possible, short of providing a full-time assistant to plug it in for you.
“It seems all religion now has a fixation with homosexuality. This is because religion has not done the hard work of evolving and accepting modern day reality. So, they look for a reason to reject modernity and a scapegoat for the gullible to blame. Religion really needs to look within and ask why thousand year old myths trump truth, science and reality. They need to ask themselves why religion increasingly only appeals to the desperate, fearful and retarded. They need to ask why any conscious non-sociopathic human these days will reject everything religion stands for.” ~ Sampy, in a comment left at Joe.My.God.
Although I can’t say how long this is going to be available before the lawyers get wind of it…
(And try as I might, I haven’t been able to download and save it. Bastards.)
Like the See-You-Next-Tuesday who walked into our local Starbucks with a cell phone glued to her ear a few minutes ago; the one who didn’t even pause her conversation long enough to give her order to the barista. I’ve really got to hand it to the folks who work here—they have the patience of angels to put up with the overinflated egos and rudeness of some of the people who frequent this place.
I did a brief stint in the retail world back in my early 20s, but I don’t think I could do it again today. I just don’t have the patience to put up with the people who think they’re a gift to humanity. I would’ve told the bitch I wasn’t going to serve her until she put down her phone and would’ve probably gotten promptly fired for it.
And because no one besides government offices and banks can apparently get away with actually doing that, it’s the reason this type of behavior is tolerated.
Back in the day, RCA was forced to release an alternate version that didn’t contain the lyric, “No blacks, no Jews, and no gays,” which kind of obliterated the whole meaning of the song…
WARNING: Rant ahead. You may just want to move on.
Someone I didn’t know that well on Facebook recently left two comments (as if one wasn’t enough to get his point across) that said, “All you do is post angry shit!”
After de-friending him, I posted something on my wall to the effect, “If you’re not angry, you’re not paying attention to what’s going on in the world.” But his observation did get me to thinking, and I’ve since dialed back my postings on Facebook.
This blog, however, is mine, and if I want to bitch and rant and howl at the moon, I will. If you don’t like it, you’re welcome to stop reading.
It’s been nearly eleven months since Ben and I arrived in Denver, and I’ve done my best to adjust to it, but I fuckin’ hate this place. I’ll muddle through for as long as necessary for Ben’s sake, but if we had to pack and leave tomorrow, no tears would be shed. There is not one thing about Denver or Colorado that I would miss.
Metaphysically speaking, my energy vibration and Denver’s are most definitely out of sync. You know how you sometimes go places and they just don’t feel right? That’s me and Denver. I never thought I’d hear myself say it, but I’m really starting to miss Arizona.
I miss being near my family, as dysfunctional as it may be. At this point I even miss seeing Ben’s mom. And while lord knows I constantly bitched about it in this blog, I miss my old job. Yeah, I hated the on-call duty and the resounding level of stupidity displayed by the user base, but on the whole I liked the people I worked with in my department; not enough to socialize after hours (it’s been a long time since I shared that kind of camaraderie), but I didn’t mind spending 8 hours a day with them. And the money was good.
And let’s face it: there had to have been something going for it to have kept me there for seven years.
I miss my doctor. A couple years ago I finally found a doctor in Phoenix whom I trusted and admired as much as my old MD in San Francisco, and now that’s gone. (I went to a recommended physician here two months ago and hated the guy so much I haven’t been back, not even to get the results of the $1200 (!!!) worth of “routine” blood tests they ran.)
The weather in Denver is admittedly beautiful in the summer. Suffering through months of 110 degree temps in Phoenix had become a real drag and our arrival here was a welcome relief. But winter? Now I understand why, after my folks divorced in the 80s and Mom moved back to Wisconsin, she was back in Arizona a year later.
We’re paying more than twice what we were in Phoenix for an apartment with the same amenities that is about 100 square feet smaller.
While the streets in Phoenix were bad, in Denver they’re horrible. I’m convinced the city and the alignment/repair shops are in collusion to keep them this way. It’s the only explanation for the city being pockmarked with 6″ deep, unavoidable potholes everywhere.
It’s impossible to keep the car looking good more than three or four days in a row. Admittedly minor, I know, but still annoying for someone who likes his car clean.
And don’t get me started on Denver drivers. I thought they were bad in Phoenix. Here they are insane.
While I’m making $10K a year less than I was in Phoenix for doing more, work was fine until my boss gave notice a month ago, taking his extensive knowledge and skill set with him. Yesterday the COO asked me if I’d help out the developers (something he used to do) if they’re caught in a pinch. I tried to explain to her that I do not possess any development skills, and it would be a waste of everyone’s time in that situation. It fell on deaf ears.
I’m a desktop tech, not a developer. I have no desire to be a developer. So honey, if you run into a pinch in an emergency, it’s not my issue that you don’t have enough staff to cover. You brought me on board for the skill set I possessed; not for one you’d hope I’d learn down the road. HIRE A FUCKING TEMP WHO KNOWS THAT SHIT, YOU CHEAP BASTARDS.
And then the bitch has the nerve last night to email me asking one of the developers and I to order food for the boss’s farewell potluck tomorrow. “I’ll split the cost with you.”
I shot an email back to her this morning that said, “I just registered my car and paid rent. I have no extra money. I’ll bring some sort of side dish.”
I fuckin’ hate this place.
Being partnered with a special ed teacher has opened my eyes to many things, and watching this video absolutely sickens me to think that there are people like this teaching children.
Not only do the parties in this video need to be fired, they need to be prevented from ever being around children again. Please watch the whole thing.
If you’re as outraged as I am after seeing this, please consider signing the petition to change New Jersey law here.
“The two most important days in your life are the day you are born and the day you find out why.” ~ Mark Twain
KILL IT WITH FIRE.
I woke up at 4:45 this morning and could not get back to sleep. I kept thinking about something my dad said to me the other day and try as I might I could not get it out of my head.
I asked how he’d been doing since my last call a week earlier. “Oh, not so good. Going downhill fast.” I asked what he meant by that and he said, “It’s these damn sinuses.”
My dad’s had sinus problems for the last couple years, and despite trying numerous prescription medications, nothing seems to clear it up.
As I lay there in the dark this morning, listening to (and quite envious of) Ben’s blissful, rhythmic breathing as he traversed the astral, it hit me. The root cause of Dad’s sinus problems is the fact his place hasn’t gotten a proper, thorough cleaning in at least five years—and probably closer to ten. In addition, he never opens his windows to air the place out, so it’s not just dust, but probably mold and god knows what else. (He blames “the cats that come over and shit in his yard.” I find that as a source of nasal irritation highly unlikely; my dad just hates cats.)
The man is 86 years old. And while he’s still sharp mentally, he doesn’t have the dexterity or physical stamina he used to, so he admits that while domestic maintenance may get started, it’s never finished. He’s also become a borderline hoarder, and attempts over the years by my sister and I to get his place decluttered so that we can clean have been met with extreme resistance.
(If you watch an episode of Hoarders and see how the folks react when their stuff is being hauled off is exactly what we’ve gone through with Dad.)
A little backstory to his current housing situation is necessary: In 1994, after breaking up with a woman he’d been living with in the Bay Area for several years, he moved back to Phoenix and bought a nice mobile home across the street from his sister in what was, at the time, a decent little park.
A couple years later my aunt moved up north and in the years since the park has steadily gone downhill.
About two years ago, after a wind storm severely damaged his carport and patio covers, he said he’d had enough, and there was a brief window when he was open to the idea of moving into a proper apartment. Wrapped up in our own lives, my sister and I could never coordinate a time for the three of us to start looking for places and eventually our window of opportunity closed.
After Ben and I moved to Denver, there was even some positive discussion about Dad going into an assisted living household, but as of today, nothing more about it has been discussed.
I’ve thought about hiring a cleaning service to come in once a week to at least dust, vacuum, and clean the kitchen and bathrooms, but I can’t do that until the place is de-cluttered. Apparently the VA also has a program available to him where someone comes in and does basic housekeeping. That sounds like an even better solution since it’s free, but again—before that can happen, the place needs to be de-cluttered so that cleaning is even possible.
At this point I would be willing to go down to Phoenix and get the place in order myself—Dad’s protestations about “touching his stuff” be damned—but I don’t have enough accumulated time off yet to do that. I can’t ask my sister to undertake the project herself; not only because it’s unfair to her, but we aren’t exactly on the best terms these days. (She seems to be carrying around a whole lot of anger at the world, and resentment at me in particular for moving to Denver and “leaving Dad in her care.”)
So I don’t know what to do. It’s unhealthy for him to remain in his current situation as it stands, but I have no immediate solution to rectify that.
Any suggestions? Certainly I’m not the only one to have ever been in this situation.