So I Facebooked a link to this video:
I find it hysterical, primarily because I've been to Russia and this kind of get-together is normal...until I recognized the song.
Holy cow, these people know Britney Spears?? I'm ROFLing all day thinking about it.
And then I get slapped down because it's, apparently, demeaning to old people.
WTF? It is? OK, maybe, but could this person's timing have possibly been worse? As if I'm not aware that we all get old? I think it's awesome that people "of a certain age" are rocking out and having a blast and singing...Britney-fucking-Spears.
Some people...I'm telling ya, I know it's been a rough couple of weeks for the person who smacked me up, but, yeah, of course, MY last couple of weeks has been so DAMN MUCH FUN.
I actually think it's kind of demeaning to think that old people aren't insanely goofy sometimes. And, in this case, I'd think they were pretty well lubricated too.
Showing posts with label Rant. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Rant. Show all posts
Friday, July 10, 2009
Tuesday, July 07, 2009
Know It All
Somehow, my gene pool is rampant with people who like to expound on their knowledge about random things. Maybe it's not just my gene pool; maybe every family is like this. It makes me crazy, so I know two things from that: 1) I am probably overly sensitive about people in general who are self-proclaimed fonts of knowledge; and 2) I probably do the same thing more than I'd like to think I do.
On the "overly sensitive" front, I posted something today on Twitter about people getting a clue on Facebook. I was being snarky, and I posted on Twitter specifically because the person to whom I was alluding on Fb doesn't follow me on Twitter. Just venting, right?
Then a colleague who is 97.3% annoying at all times came back on Twitter with a comment to the effect that "Fb sux" (paraphrase) followed by the 'enlightening' comment that he only uses Fb because some people don't know how to upload photos anywhere else. Niiiiice--we're all just morons, those of us who use Facebook. It's not even remotely possible that people upload photos to 16 other sites and don't tell him for any one of many reasons. Oh, wait. I do that: Fb, Snapfish, Flickr, etc. Is there a need for him to know this? Not really. He just assumes...a lot.
The silver lining is that I'm not anywhere near as annoyed with the original clueless Facebook thing; the rest of the thundercloud is that I want to snag a specific ponytail in a woodchipper and turn up the power level.
One of these days, I'm going to turn to him--either physically (in a meeting) or by email--and seriously ask him how he got to be so much smarter than anyone else on earth. The unfortunate thing is that He. Will. Answer. The. Question.
AAARGGHHHHHHH!!!!
[But really people: if you want to say something about someone's status on Facebook, would you PLEASE leave the comment on--or even NEAR!--the status to which you are responding; it's not that complicated!]
On the "overly sensitive" front, I posted something today on Twitter about people getting a clue on Facebook. I was being snarky, and I posted on Twitter specifically because the person to whom I was alluding on Fb doesn't follow me on Twitter. Just venting, right?
Then a colleague who is 97.3% annoying at all times came back on Twitter with a comment to the effect that "Fb sux" (paraphrase) followed by the 'enlightening' comment that he only uses Fb because some people don't know how to upload photos anywhere else. Niiiiice--we're all just morons, those of us who use Facebook. It's not even remotely possible that people upload photos to 16 other sites and don't tell him for any one of many reasons. Oh, wait. I do that: Fb, Snapfish, Flickr, etc. Is there a need for him to know this? Not really. He just assumes...a lot.
The silver lining is that I'm not anywhere near as annoyed with the original clueless Facebook thing; the rest of the thundercloud is that I want to snag a specific ponytail in a woodchipper and turn up the power level.
One of these days, I'm going to turn to him--either physically (in a meeting) or by email--and seriously ask him how he got to be so much smarter than anyone else on earth. The unfortunate thing is that He. Will. Answer. The. Question.
AAARGGHHHHHHH!!!!
[But really people: if you want to say something about someone's status on Facebook, would you PLEASE leave the comment on--or even NEAR!--the status to which you are responding; it's not that complicated!]
Monday, May 25, 2009
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Youngest (Rant Alert)
This will come as no surprise to anyone who is the youngest sibling--and possibly anyone else towards the bottom of the list in multi-child families.
Being the youngest makes us (me) a little thin-skinned about being treated like a baby. Yes, sometimes we regress and sometimes we can be spoiled little kids, not to mention somewhat lighter-hearted and flaky than Oldests and even Middles.
The issue is that I've always been WAAAAY younger than everyone in my family (of birth); not just a little younger, WAAAAY younger. And when I was 10, it was appropriate to treat me like a kid.
With four older sibs of my own I have done my best over the years to 'grow up' and be myself. I have also worked (mostly) for and with people older than me. Most of the time, I defer. Most of the time, I'm OK with being the younger/dumber one. Mostly I understand that "Oldests" and my elders may actually have some information about life that I haven't yet accrued.
I can't tell you how tired I am becoming of (some of) the older-than-me Boomers.
And I really. really. really. do. not. need. anymore people in my life who treat me like their kid sister. Cuz,
Like Aretha, I'm just asking for a little respect.
Being the youngest makes us (me) a little thin-skinned about being treated like a baby. Yes, sometimes we regress and sometimes we can be spoiled little kids, not to mention somewhat lighter-hearted and flaky than Oldests and even Middles.
The issue is that I've always been WAAAAY younger than everyone in my family (of birth); not just a little younger, WAAAAY younger. And when I was 10, it was appropriate to treat me like a kid.
With four older sibs of my own I have done my best over the years to 'grow up' and be myself. I have also worked (mostly) for and with people older than me. Most of the time, I defer. Most of the time, I'm OK with being the younger/dumber one. Mostly I understand that "Oldests" and my elders may actually have some information about life that I haven't yet accrued.
I can't tell you how tired I am becoming of (some of) the older-than-me Boomers.
And I really. really. really. do. not. need. anymore people in my life who treat me like their kid sister. Cuz,
- I'm 45, thus patently NOT a kid [even if I cry too often for some peoples' comfort];
- None of my siblings are around here, and for good reason. [why do you think they are all far away? Hmmm, let's let that percolate for awhile, eh?];
- Even my sibs don't treat me like this (often) anymore [although I know someone who might disagree with this rather vehemently].
- I'm not an idiot.
- If I'm crying, it's not necessarily your fault, and I'm not doing it to upset you. Usually. huh I understand that there may have been a disagreement that preceded the crying, but, truly, it is not all about YOU. I'm aware of that. You can't "make me" cry. So stop assuming ... well, everything, frankly.
- When I'm being treated like a child, it's quite likely that my first response is going to be childish. I may snap at you. I may bark. That's my issue and I am trying to deal with it. I will almost always be the first to apologize for doing so, but jeez, just once in awhile would it kill you to go first?!
- Don't ignore me.
Don't talk over me.
Don't patronize me and/or be condescending.
Don't assume I can't handle the realities of life.
Don't keep secrets from me, and gossip around me without including me.
Don't tell me you were "just kidding" when you were being a bitch or a prick, because that is what precedes "Can't you take a joke??", at least in my head.
In short, don't piss on my leg and tell me it's raining (ty, Judge Judy). - Examine your behavior once in awhile. You are NOT the Omphalos for anyone but your own beautiful self. Accept appropriate accolades gracefully but don't assume you 'deserve' them.
- For most of the world: I'm not your sister. Don't assume I need a big brother/big sister to get be through life. I don't. Really. I'm good. Go (the fuck) away already!
- Did I mention apologize first sometimes? Oh, yeah, I did.
Like Aretha, I'm just asking for a little respect.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Blood pressure
I bought some radio show CDs for my mom some time ago and when she stopped using them, they were in good enough shape to donate to the library.
They have worked their way to the point of needing labels and cases and so forth. The person in charge of this--who, I'm sure it will come as no surprise given the title of this post, is CT--brought one over to ask something about it. When I took a look at it, I realized that my sister had written Mom's last name on the discs to ensure they were returned to Mom at the nursing home. So I said to CT, "You are going to black out the name, right?"
Sigh. "I don't know...."
WTF? Why would you leave someone's name on something when they don't own it anymore?? And it's a matter of taking a Sharpie and doing just what my sister did: writing on the surface of the printed side of the disc. I'm not asking for a label.
"There are an awful lot of them...."
So I told her fine, give them to me to scribble on because my time is ever so less valuable than hers. "I'll do it, I'll do it...." as she walks away. Sounding just like my mother, The Martyred One.
I'm telling you. I'm ready to feed her to the sharks.
They have worked their way to the point of needing labels and cases and so forth. The person in charge of this--who, I'm sure it will come as no surprise given the title of this post, is CT--brought one over to ask something about it. When I took a look at it, I realized that my sister had written Mom's last name on the discs to ensure they were returned to Mom at the nursing home. So I said to CT, "You are going to black out the name, right?"
Sigh. "I don't know...."
WTF? Why would you leave someone's name on something when they don't own it anymore?? And it's a matter of taking a Sharpie and doing just what my sister did: writing on the surface of the printed side of the disc. I'm not asking for a label.
"There are an awful lot of them...."
So I told her fine, give them to me to scribble on because my time is ever so less valuable than hers. "I'll do it, I'll do it...." as she walks away. Sounding just like my mother, The Martyred One.
I'm telling you. I'm ready to feed her to the sharks.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
In that Meebo window at the left....
20th Century Foxes: This is the 20th Century Fox Legal Dept. We have read your blog post herein and find it to be completely inaccurate, slanderous, and without merit and request that you take it down forthwith.
Should I worry?
No, I shouldn't--it was Beast. Being Funny. hafucketyha
Why I won't be watching Slumdog Millionnaire in this lifetime
First of all, I hate the title, and the premise. I could probably have worked around both, however, in light of all the positive reactions I've heard about it.
Then we found out that 20th Century Fox Searchlight released the DVD without the correct Extras stuff. [two links among many others] OK, so we called the toll free number that Amazon provided--note that Fox never contacted us, and neither did Amazon, so woe betide you if you don't read the news or have friends who do! In any case, there is a note on the Amazon page which I will quote verbatim because it's an indication of what I would call Good Customer Service:
So I called the number on or about April 8. Other libraries I'd talked to had gotten their discs replaced as quickly as overnight. Wow! GREAT service, eh? The dozens of patrons waiting to view one of our library's copies won't even notice that there was a switcheroo.
Not so fast. On April 14, when our new discs had not arrived, I called back and asked for help. Got disconnected. About 10 minutes later, I received a call that was ostensibly a rep calling from a list she had been working on before I called. And...ah...now I was told that because we purchased more than one of the movies, I need to find the invoice and fax a copy to Fox to prove that we really had bought three. And that will take another few days. So, I complained a little and said it would have been nice to know that LAST week. The voice at the other end said that the call desk wasn't told about multiple copies. They clearly weren't told to ASK about multiple copies, either, or we could have started this whole faxing thing then! So I was...ahem...disgruntled. I found the invoice, a miracle in itself since it was bills week and usually would have been outside the building being paid. I faxed the invoice to the number I was given. It went through, and I put it aside to wait for the @$&*ing discs to arrive.
They have not arrived today. I called and the operator eventually came back and said he'd have to 'research' this and he would call me back. I just got off the phone with his supervisor--the same woman with whom I spoke last week. Their story has changed yet again! They insist that the procedure has only changed once, but since this is the third and different thing I've been told, to me it feels like every time I call I get new directions. NOW, the rule is that they have to seen me mailing labels and I have to mail BACK the incorrect discs FIRST instead of after we receive the correct ones.
Frankly, this should have been the way it was handled from the beginning, for everyone regardless of how many copies were purchased. Even better : send out addressed return envelopes, but I can't complain about that since we are usually drowning in media mail envelopes. However, the issue here is that they had no record of my fax. They had no record of me calling. The whole angsty conversation last week apparently never happened.
And then...
...sigh...
...there was the clear insinuation that I had not actually faxed anything to start with. There have been several claims that we are the ONLY customer who has had trouble with this procedure, and absolutely no Customer Service. Just "here's what to do" and when I questioned why, was stonewalled and told "corporate told us to" handle it this way (last week and this week). The best part is that in the process of emailing me (another story in giving her my email address: said it, spelled it, said it--she'd screwed it up when she read it back) three mailing labels, and claiming to send 'two' ("Why two?" "Because I already sent one, so now I'm sending two more." "When did you send one?" "Just now." Really? Cuz there's nothing in my email...) which was confusing--and I'm an idiot for thinking so--I ended up talking to her supervisor. I said I'd gotten two emails and two labels and asked if I should just copy one; "NO! YOU HAVE TO HAVE THREE DIFFERENT ONES!"
All righty then. I only got two. So she says she'll have the other woman send me another and I said, "Right. I'll wait on hold while you do that." Big sigh from the other end, but when she came back she immediately said, "You have it now." Uh, no...see, email = not-instantaneous. Believe it or not.
Can I possibly be the only person who got tangled up in this nightmare? And what proof, really, do I have that I have mailed these discs back when I call next week because we STILL haven't gotten the damn things?
I did say several times that really, treating me with contempt and discourtesy wasn't really Customer Service, when actually it was YOU GUYS at Fox who screwed up. An apology, a real one without nasty eye rolling sounds, would have been nice. Really, one of these people thought I was blaming her personally for everything. omfg--'you' is a plural pronoun, you (singular, I hope to God) cloth-eared bint!
In any case, I have lost ANY inclination to watch this stupid movie, and I will be boycotting all 20th Century Fox products herewith (not such a big deal since I rarely see movies). Shit, if people can boycott WalMart for lousy customer service--someone with whom I work--I can boycott everything with "FOX" in it for being subhuman fucktards.
Then we found out that 20th Century Fox Searchlight released the DVD without the correct Extras stuff. [two links among many others] OK, so we called the toll free number that Amazon provided--note that Fox never contacted us, and neither did Amazon, so woe betide you if you don't read the news or have friends who do! In any case, there is a note on the Amazon page which I will quote verbatim because it's an indication of what I would call Good Customer Service:
DVD Alert: Fox apologizes that the special features are missing from a portion of the Slumdog Millionaire DVDs ordered before April 2, 2009. Fox has set up a hotline telephone number (1-888-223-4369) for those consumers who may have been affected. Upon calling the hotline, these consumers will be able to have their disc replaced for one containing special features. This issue does not occur on the Blu-ray version. Fox regrets any inconvenience this may have caused and is making every effort to expedite the replacement discs as quickly as possible.Clear, concise information, courteously worded. Great.
So I called the number on or about April 8. Other libraries I'd talked to had gotten their discs replaced as quickly as overnight. Wow! GREAT service, eh? The dozens of patrons waiting to view one of our library's copies won't even notice that there was a switcheroo.
Not so fast. On April 14, when our new discs had not arrived, I called back and asked for help. Got disconnected. About 10 minutes later, I received a call that was ostensibly a rep calling from a list she had been working on before I called. And...ah...now I was told that because we purchased more than one of the movies, I need to find the invoice and fax a copy to Fox to prove that we really had bought three. And that will take another few days. So, I complained a little and said it would have been nice to know that LAST week. The voice at the other end said that the call desk wasn't told about multiple copies. They clearly weren't told to ASK about multiple copies, either, or we could have started this whole faxing thing then! So I was...ahem...disgruntled. I found the invoice, a miracle in itself since it was bills week and usually would have been outside the building being paid. I faxed the invoice to the number I was given. It went through, and I put it aside to wait for the @$&*ing discs to arrive.
They have not arrived today. I called and the operator eventually came back and said he'd have to 'research' this and he would call me back. I just got off the phone with his supervisor--the same woman with whom I spoke last week. Their story has changed yet again! They insist that the procedure has only changed once, but since this is the third and different thing I've been told, to me it feels like every time I call I get new directions. NOW, the rule is that they have to seen me mailing labels and I have to mail BACK the incorrect discs FIRST instead of after we receive the correct ones.
Frankly, this should have been the way it was handled from the beginning, for everyone regardless of how many copies were purchased. Even better : send out addressed return envelopes, but I can't complain about that since we are usually drowning in media mail envelopes. However, the issue here is that they had no record of my fax. They had no record of me calling. The whole angsty conversation last week apparently never happened.
And then...
...sigh...
...there was the clear insinuation that I had not actually faxed anything to start with. There have been several claims that we are the ONLY customer who has had trouble with this procedure, and absolutely no Customer Service. Just "here's what to do" and when I questioned why, was stonewalled and told "corporate told us to" handle it this way (last week and this week). The best part is that in the process of emailing me (another story in giving her my email address: said it, spelled it, said it--she'd screwed it up when she read it back) three mailing labels, and claiming to send 'two' ("Why two?" "Because I already sent one, so now I'm sending two more." "When did you send one?" "Just now." Really? Cuz there's nothing in my email...) which was confusing--and I'm an idiot for thinking so--I ended up talking to her supervisor. I said I'd gotten two emails and two labels and asked if I should just copy one; "NO! YOU HAVE TO HAVE THREE DIFFERENT ONES!"
All righty then. I only got two. So she says she'll have the other woman send me another and I said, "Right. I'll wait on hold while you do that." Big sigh from the other end, but when she came back she immediately said, "You have it now." Uh, no...see, email = not-instantaneous. Believe it or not.
Can I possibly be the only person who got tangled up in this nightmare? And what proof, really, do I have that I have mailed these discs back when I call next week because we STILL haven't gotten the damn things?
I did say several times that really, treating me with contempt and discourtesy wasn't really Customer Service, when actually it was YOU GUYS at Fox who screwed up. An apology, a real one without nasty eye rolling sounds, would have been nice. Really, one of these people thought I was blaming her personally for everything. omfg--'you' is a plural pronoun, you (singular, I hope to God) cloth-eared bint!
In any case, I have lost ANY inclination to watch this stupid movie, and I will be boycotting all 20th Century Fox products herewith (not such a big deal since I rarely see movies). Shit, if people can boycott WalMart for lousy customer service--someone with whom I work--I can boycott everything with "FOX" in it for being subhuman fucktards.
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Hard job?
I don't really want to do either job in this exchange, but I know which one is really the hardest.
Note: I'm note posting this on Facebook because so many "mommy" friends are there. If you have access to my Fb and this blog, chances are real good that you are a friend who is a mom, not a "mommy" friend. I like my friends--all of them--but that site is a healthy reminder that screaming babies and discussions of episiotomies are not really what makes the rest of the world roll witcha. And also...I'm SO GLAD that Sparky is past the stage of poopy-butt. Now he's just poopy-brained sometimes. ;-)
Note: I'm note posting this on Facebook because so many "mommy" friends are there. If you have access to my Fb and this blog, chances are real good that you are a friend who is a mom, not a "mommy" friend. I like my friends--all of them--but that site is a healthy reminder that screaming babies and discussions of episiotomies are not really what makes the rest of the world roll witcha. And also...I'm SO GLAD that Sparky is past the stage of poopy-butt. Now he's just poopy-brained sometimes. ;-)
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Queen of Drama
Sometimes, even when I know better, I want to S H A K E certain members of my family and then ask them to grow the fuck up.
But doing that to someone in their 80s is frowned upon.
So instead I'm having a lengthy chat with The Big Guy about His timing and plan for this individual's future on earth. If I could S H A K E God, I'd do that.
But doing that to someone in their 80s is frowned upon.
So instead I'm having a lengthy chat with The Big Guy about His timing and plan for this individual's future on earth. If I could S H A K E God, I'd do that.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Four hours of work
(a.k.a. what is NOT going on my weekly report to the boss about my time usage)
- Kicked two feet of snow out of the way of the distance (outdoor) bookdrop so that I could open and empty it. They didn't plow the lane to drive up to it, and piled snow in front of the door. Idiots. I hate the bookdrop more than any other part of my job. And what did I retrieve? Three of our items and 10 donated trashy paperbacks.
- Found out that the labels we use to indicate that an item is new had a typo. The whole batch is ruined. Nice.
- Realized I forgot my lunch at home.
- Got drawn into a rant by CT. Sigh.
- Was attacked by my eye. Called doctor for a referral to my eye doctor. Called my eye doctor for appointment.
- Ate a Tootsie Roll
- Another staff member asked me about an email I forwarded to her yesterday about filling holds from other libraries. I explained: politics. Turf. Grr.
- Looked for new labels to replace the stupid ones. Considered redesigning. Decided against it.
- General email stuff.
- Ranted to Beast via Meebo about my eye and other stuff.
- Realized my eyes feel just fine again right now (well, right then).
- Redid most of a document I worked on last week because I'd done it all backwards. My boss checked it over and was still confused, because I'd REDONE part of it backwards. But the colors are pretty. (and it's fixed now)
- Talked to Box Lady about Large Print books.
- Forwarded document to our system tech, and waited for the stupid questions to ensue.
- Cataloged 8 DVDs. One of them is The Jazz Singer. It arrived with about 15 postcard-type things, 4 or 5 booklets that reprint a bunch of period reviews and such, and a reproduction of a telegram. In other words, a bunch of JUNK. Grumbled to people about that.
- Ate another Tootsie Roll.
- Put in Rx eyedrops. Sting, a little itchiness, but generally still fine.
- Received reply from tech. Only one really retarded question. Since he cc'd to my boss, she came down from her office and dared me to call him a dork in my reply. I said I would. We answered his other questions, and I (naturally) explained the obvious to him without using the words "dork" "asshat" "blind" "fool" or "kill." Am quite proud of myself, and I'm getting an AWESOME-funny new password so it's ok. So far he hasn't answered me back. But he will. I've complete faith in him. [Update 3:20--yup, I was right, and now my blood pressure is sky high. He is a fucktard.]
- Ate another Tootsie Roll (so much for that "not eating junk" thing...)
- Discussed the budget cuts that must be made this year, and the rest of the impact the dismal economy is causing. Havoc, much? Oh, it's only just begun, my friends.
- Ranted briefly at Beast some more.
- General email. One of the lists I'm on is having a long discussion under the subject "turkey parthenogenesis." Cracked up. Catalogers are weird.
- Realized I haven't eaten lunch.
- Realized I'm cold. My hands are ice blocks as I type this. Quite unusual--the library is normally warm in the winter.
Friday, January 02, 2009
Breastfeeding
So, there's this insane controversy on Facebook that has erupted into the mainstream media. It seems that Facebook has yanked photos that were posted on profiles because those photos show women breastfeeding babies. This somehow violates their policies about ... uh? ... nudity or something. Or it is upsetting to ... someone. I thought it was just crazy, uneducated, sexually frustrated individuals who--in this relatively new millenia--were freaked out by public breastfeeding and photos of it, but I've just read a blog post by someone whom I respect which completely floored me.
I started a lengthy ocmment on his--note pronoun for irony purposes--website, but it got very soapboxish. So I'm posting the comment here instead. The comment I did leave was brief, courteous, and (I hope) non-inflammatory. For contextual purposes, one of the arguments he makes is quoted below, because I refer to it in my response:
I started a lengthy ocmment on his--note pronoun for irony purposes--website, but it got very soapboxish. So I'm posting the comment here instead. The comment I did leave was brief, courteous, and (I hope) non-inflammatory. For contextual purposes, one of the arguments he makes is quoted below, because I refer to it in my response:
It doesn’t have to be a matter of being a prude; imagine the woman who has lost a baby, or the woman who has suffered breast cancer. While I can’t imagine being in either position, I can imagine that seeing the image of a newborn breastfeeding might be a little torturous for any woman who has gone through either situation.My heated reply:
For me, I think the issue is that you can see plenty of breasts on Fb, but the only ones being banned are the ones doing what they are made to do. So, Fb will let a photo of a woman or girl in a VERY low-cut top stay (unless someone reports it), but a photo that shows less breast but has a baby feeding is pulled. Yeah. That's perfectly sensible.OK, yeah, I'm cranky. Blame David Caruso and today's CSI:Miami marathon.
Perhaps if people (ahem, men) saw breasts doing what they are designed for they'd stop being so freakin' wound up about seeing breasts exhibited as artwork.
Have you seen any of the photos these women posted? I don't think there are any that are even remotely sexual in nature, not that I've looked at them all. Nor have I seen any in which what you call "the whole breast" is visible. And frankly, I can randomly pull up several Fb profiles with WAY more revealing photos than these. Do I care? No, because I don't look at, much less 'friend', people who post those sorts of pictures. That way I don't have to look at their retardo exhibitionism.
However, I have a friend who has an amazing photo of herself feeding her baby: it's a candid and one of the best pictures of her I've seen. I don't think she's on Fb, but I'm sure no one could be offended by it.
Women have been fighting this uphill battle for more than 'just' this year. I was called all sorts of names on the occasions when I nursed my son when he was a baby 16 years ago. My sisters, ditto, 20-30 years ago. We weren't flaunting, we had blankets over our shoulders, and yet people (ahem, men mostly) were horribly rude about it. Had we parading through the room wearing a low-cut blouse, I doubt they'd have complained at all, though.
I do have a relative who recently gave birth to a stillborn baby. The merest sight of babies is painful. Yes, seeing a photo of a breastfeeding baby is painful, but so is seeing happy parents playing with their newborn. This particular argument is straight-up bizarre. Seeing older men sometimes upsets me because my father is dead; should photos of old men be banned from Fb? Come on.
As for those people (not just women) suffering from, or recovering from, breast cancer...do you really think this is any more painful than seeing ads for Victoria's Secret? Really? Should those be banned? (well, actually...I'd be OK with that...)
Speaking as a mom, and a feminist, I will tell you that babies get hungry on their own schedule. To a degree you can plan ahead, but sometimes they will start fussing when you are in a public place. I would much prefer finding a quiet corner and a comfortable chair over sitting on a toilet or the floor in a public restroom. If someone took a photo of me that was a good picture, I'd cherish it.
I do think that perhaps you're being very disingenous. To the best of my knowledge you've never had a baby in your life full-time much less had the opportunity to breastfeed. For that I'm very sorry. I think you're viewpoint might change were you a little closer to the situation in your own life.
In other words, you know not whereof you speak, so perhaps you ought to take it down a notch.
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Nibbled to death
A great day. No, seriously, it was. Keep that in the forefront your mind, because much of this post is straight, full-on vent.
Wonderful company in Beast and Sparky, FIL, Gerb, and Alan. And then there's Katherine--my only blood relative besides Sparky in the house today. She needs to be spanked. I had high hopes for her this holiday. When she and Alan arrived yesterday she was in good spirits and generally was pleasant company. That continued for much of the morning today...until mealtime.
I am generally aware of the emotional currents in a room but not always clear where the whirlpools are developing until they have become riptides, but damn if today I didn't visibly watch Katherine commence with her poutiness. When Sparky reminded us, rather late in the visit, that we were going to play Scrabble, her eyes lit up (she L O V E S board games) and then she and Alan disappeared upstairs to pack up their overnight bags so they could take off for his mom's. There was glaring; she wanted to stay, he wanted to get to his mom's. I think the issue was that we should have mentioned game-playing earlier so she could participate. Her parting shot to Sparky was something like, "I'll play Scrabble with you next time, and I'll win" followed by a comment about being told not to be falsely modest about one's talents. And they were out the door.
Stunning.
Clueless.
Floored.
I realize that we all have one relative that we want to keep in a closet, but she was unbearably rude to our friend today and not much more than civil with FIL, especially as the day wore on.
A telling moment was when she mentioned that the two of them (Katherine and Alan) have had couples' counseling as part of the adoption process they are going through, and she thinks the therapist is crap because "She keeps bringing up the same things over and over." Well...DUH! I bet I know which ones, too (it would be a guess--Katherine didn't share that much!).
We had a wonderful, fairly relaxing day spent with some of the people we love the most in the world, talked to most of our out-of-state family on the phone, were cheered by and cheery with them, got quite the haul of good gifts ... yet all I want to do is call Katherine tomorrow and read her the riot act for having the grace and tact of a shit-covered rock pitched through a stained-glass window. I am not fond of the concept of family feuds, but I'm rarin' to go on this one; I am so TIRED of her behavior. She is nearly 37 years old, a professional with an advanced degree, was raised by parents with some semblance of a clue as far as social behavior--and every time I spend time with her, I want to strangle her by the end of it. It's probably good that I work tomorrow, and we have electronics to set up and Thank You notes to write over the weekend so I'll be too busy to call. Cooling off periods are good.
To end on a happier note, the doorbell rang in the midst of yesterday morning's snow and I found on my snowy porch a delivery man with flowers. Thank you, Jenny. I love you, and I am grateful every day for you.
I don't want to brag or make the rest of you envious, but I have to say that my two best girlfriends are the BEST friends ever.
Wonderful company in Beast and Sparky, FIL, Gerb, and Alan. And then there's Katherine--my only blood relative besides Sparky in the house today. She needs to be spanked. I had high hopes for her this holiday. When she and Alan arrived yesterday she was in good spirits and generally was pleasant company. That continued for much of the morning today...until mealtime.
I am generally aware of the emotional currents in a room but not always clear where the whirlpools are developing until they have become riptides, but damn if today I didn't visibly watch Katherine commence with her poutiness. When Sparky reminded us, rather late in the visit, that we were going to play Scrabble, her eyes lit up (she L O V E S board games) and then she and Alan disappeared upstairs to pack up their overnight bags so they could take off for his mom's. There was glaring; she wanted to stay, he wanted to get to his mom's. I think the issue was that we should have mentioned game-playing earlier so she could participate. Her parting shot to Sparky was something like, "I'll play Scrabble with you next time, and I'll win" followed by a comment about being told not to be falsely modest about one's talents. And they were out the door.
Stunning.
Clueless.
Floored.
I realize that we all have one relative that we want to keep in a closet, but she was unbearably rude to our friend today and not much more than civil with FIL, especially as the day wore on.
A telling moment was when she mentioned that the two of them (Katherine and Alan) have had couples' counseling as part of the adoption process they are going through, and she thinks the therapist is crap because "She keeps bringing up the same things over and over." Well...DUH! I bet I know which ones, too (it would be a guess--Katherine didn't share that much!).
We had a wonderful, fairly relaxing day spent with some of the people we love the most in the world, talked to most of our out-of-state family on the phone, were cheered by and cheery with them, got quite the haul of good gifts ... yet all I want to do is call Katherine tomorrow and read her the riot act for having the grace and tact of a shit-covered rock pitched through a stained-glass window. I am not fond of the concept of family feuds, but I'm rarin' to go on this one; I am so TIRED of her behavior. She is nearly 37 years old, a professional with an advanced degree, was raised by parents with some semblance of a clue as far as social behavior--and every time I spend time with her, I want to strangle her by the end of it. It's probably good that I work tomorrow, and we have electronics to set up and Thank You notes to write over the weekend so I'll be too busy to call. Cooling off periods are good.
To end on a happier note, the doorbell rang in the midst of yesterday morning's snow and I found on my snowy porch a delivery man with flowers. Thank you, Jenny. I love you, and I am grateful every day for you.
I don't want to brag or make the rest of you envious, but I have to say that my two best girlfriends are the BEST friends ever.
Thursday, October 02, 2008
Aside
OK, I loathe the concept of Sarah Palin as Vice President. I'm not backing down from that.
But I'm loving the fact that the words she uses and her pronunciation of them sound like the people with whom I grew up. I hate her nicey-nice voice, and I hate that she's not answering questions and doing a lot of talking in circles, but she sounds like my peeps!
I think all you East Coasty snobs should shut the fuck up, for a fuckin' change, since that's what all this campaign seems to be about this year: Change. One of the Achilles' heel of we liberals is our tendency towards looking down our noses, and it bites us in the ass regularly (see 2004 campaign, specifically the perception of John Kerry). People out west don't talk like people in DC or New York (thank GOD for that!). We talk like Sarah Palin. Does that mean we're fuckheads? Of course not. Does talking "right" mean you aren't a fucktard? Of course not--though that's more debateable.
I pronounce my harrd rr's. I frequently 'lose' my 'g' at the end of 'ing' words. We smile a lot. We use homespun sayings, and words like "goll" instead of "God!" and ALWAYS prounounce 'your' like it's spelled "yr." And yes, we do bless each other's hearts--and we know what that "rilly" means when we do it, too. [I am pretty sure most Manhattanites think it's pretty sweet.]
Making fun of Sarah Palin for the way she talks is PRECISELY the same as Republicans denigrating Obama by saying he is Muslim.
Stick to the issues, please.
But I'm loving the fact that the words she uses and her pronunciation of them sound like the people with whom I grew up. I hate her nicey-nice voice, and I hate that she's not answering questions and doing a lot of talking in circles, but she sounds like my peeps!
I think all you East Coasty snobs should shut the fuck up, for a fuckin' change, since that's what all this campaign seems to be about this year: Change. One of the Achilles' heel of we liberals is our tendency towards looking down our noses, and it bites us in the ass regularly (see 2004 campaign, specifically the perception of John Kerry). People out west don't talk like people in DC or New York (thank GOD for that!). We talk like Sarah Palin. Does that mean we're fuckheads? Of course not. Does talking "right" mean you aren't a fucktard? Of course not--though that's more debateable.
I pronounce my harrd rr's. I frequently 'lose' my 'g' at the end of 'ing' words. We smile a lot. We use homespun sayings, and words like "goll" instead of "God!" and ALWAYS prounounce 'your' like it's spelled "yr." And yes, we do bless each other's hearts--and we know what that "rilly" means when we do it, too. [I am pretty sure most Manhattanites think it's pretty sweet.]
Making fun of Sarah Palin for the way she talks is PRECISELY the same as Republicans denigrating Obama by saying he is Muslim.
Stick to the issues, please.
Saturday, August 30, 2008
Things to say to ensure you won't be loved
While all of these are true-life examples, they are not all current or specific. Just a list of things I've put together over the past couple of weeks.
(P.S. If any of this seems to apply to my good friends in blogland, it was unintentional in the extreme. I'm not pointing fingers at you! I am, in some specific cases, talking to myself if anyone at all.)
That is all for tonight.
- In any context, without a large smile and a beer in both people's hands--and even then sometimes--saying, "You are a huge and sucking black hole of an idiot, dude!" will lower your friend value.
- Interrupting people is not cute unless you are 3. Neither is cutting in line.
- Telling someone that you are too busy to talk when they are sobbing is bad. Unless someone's hair is on fire nearby.
- Verbalizing that common thought "what is the POINT of this meeting???" in the midst of one will not endear you to people. Especially if the implication is that everyone else in the room is a moron, and you are the only sensible one there.
- Leaving a tip at a restaurant is required, even if you are a girl. Figuring out the tip isn't that fucking hard, either.
- Forgiving people is harder than it sounds sometimes. It can be hard not to keep score in life, sort of play the quid pro quo game; sometimes it's impossible not to notice slights, whether they are intentional or not.
- Discussing someone else's lower standards of housekeeping, cooking, career, financial planning, gardening, fashion sense, workplace tidiness, etc. etc. should ONLY occur when the OTHER PERSON has deprecated themselves first. If you start that conversation, expect retaliation of some kind.
- Omitting an apology when you've fucked something up, even if it's (in your opinion) no big deal, is wrong.
- Omitting a thank you (or a response of any kind) for a time-consuming and well-done favor, or even just a kind word or a hug, is going to come back and bite your karmic ass hard.
- No one cares as much about what you are saying as you do. No one cares as much about your dreams as you do. People bore easily, even your best-est friends. It's not pretty, but it's true.
- Insinuating yourself into a serious conversation and then redirecting it toward some ridiculous story you've told 3 dozen times in the past half hour...is now punishable by hanging from the gallows newly constructed in the Children's Room.
- Speaking at a meeting (a round-table, everyone-is-equal meeting, not a seminar) for more than 5 minutes straight will not engender fellowship and goodwill, nor will your case be made. Unless, of course, your case is demoralizing and frustrating people.
- Being the one who is right all the time is not attractive in any way, shape, or form. Neither is being the one who is wrong; it's pathetic and besides, no one loves a martyr.
- There is a reason young people don't rule the world. It's not a hidden reason. It's well-known. It's called "experience." By definition, (most) young people ain't got as much. Facts of life, baby.
- There is a reason (many) old people are ignored. It's not a hidden reason. It's well-known. It's called "selective hearing/vision/awareness." And sometimes "hypocrisy." Facts of life, baby.
- Whining loudly about the severe water damage to your $500,000 ugly-ass house built last year on a flood plain will not make me feel sorry for you.
- Not many people look good in orange. I'm not sure why. That must be why it was chosen for prison garb. Hmmm...
- Stealing from your workplace and blaming the missing money on your subordinates will cause them to call you names (like Bitch from Outer Space, Psychopathic Silicon Life Form, Budget Nazi) for the rest of their lives, even if you never get 'caught.'
- Pandering will not buy my vote. I'm more pissed about the possibility of the first woman POTUS being a Republican than I can comprehend, or than McCain's 'deciders' might reasonably have expected.
- Complaining about your massive debt-load to someone with three times the debt mere months after celebrating a large financial windfall ... just unforgettable bad taste.
- Hubris is real. I fully expect three or more of the items to pop to the forefront of my life now to remind me that I live in a glass house.
(P.S. If any of this seems to apply to my good friends in blogland, it was unintentional in the extreme. I'm not pointing fingers at you! I am, in some specific cases, talking to myself if anyone at all.)
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Ranty
OK, I've just read yet another cranky librarian posting about last month's meeting in Anaheim.* I'm so tired of this. One thing that pisses me off more about it is that there is clearly NO financial UNDERSTANDING for why we (librarians) hold meetings in warm venues in summer and in cold weather venues in winter.
Here's a hint: CO$T! It's ALL about money. My guess--and it is a guess--is that it runs several thousands of dollars less to book Anaheim (or Miami) in summer and Chicago (or Minneapolis) in winter. The hotels are also cheaper, and they are more willing to do deals on prices just to fill the rooms and get something. So are tourist things, if that's your thing, and restaurants and airlines. This means--listen up--it costs less for us to attend than it would if we went someplace Neato and Coolio like St. Louis in January or Boston in June.
And why Anaheim instead of L.A.? Hello? Go read paragraph #2. It's cheaper.
Why do I know this? Because I know people who work in the for-profit world. As much as that annoys me sometimes--huh--they have to justify the money they spend, and I will tell you all that there are times when they look at government (i.e. that would be us, kiddies) and are appalled at how clueless and retarded we are. So, chalk one up to ALA for saving money. ALA gets kudos for being financially responsibile on this count at least from me.
I was in Anaheim last month, across the street from Disney. I hate Disney. I'm not ridiculous about it--for instance, I don't hate it the way I hate terrorists or liver-and-onions--because I didn't feel compelled to partake in ANYthing Disney while I was there. I didn't eat, shop, ride, or enjoy ANYthing related to Disney, except 5 minutes of fireworks one night, in spite of practically marinating in Disneyfied air.
Guess what: I don't go to conferences to a) drink, b) eat gourmet food, c) have spa treatment, d) tour the vicinity, e) bitch about my host (i.e that would be Anaheim, kiddies). I go to LEARN. I go to enjoy some networking, to get excited about my job, to find out what might be coming down the pike, to meet some interesting people that I otherwise would not (and I assure you, I am NOT talking about the people doing most of the talking, though I did speak to Tim Spalding in the LibraryThing booth and congratulate him for being an instigator), to see an old place in new light or a new place period, and to get the FUCK away from work for a change of scenery!
So, Anaheim was hot, and there was a lot of concrete. So, I am out of shape. So, I am not thin. So, somehow--though I'm beginning to wonder if I imagined it--I hiked the distance to and from my cheap-ass motel (bar- and restaurant-free, mind you) and the conference site. I rode the shuttle bus precisely once, just to see how that worked. I walked 6-plus hours one day on concrete in exhibit halls and never once tried to steal anything that I "thought" was free but wasn't. I probably put three times more mileage on my feet in California than I do in the average month in 'real life.' And you know what? I could have gone several more days doing the same thing! It fucking was not that bad. Frankly, I felt crappier when I was on vacation in London four years ago walking (duh!) concrete streets and marble museum floors for a week.
The people who are bitching on their blogs about how AWFUL it was in Disn...er, Anaheim have a tone to their commentary that is very curious to me. It is the sound of cheerleaders talking down the Ugly Chick. It is the sound of Heather dismissing Martha Dumptruck. It is NOT the sound of a group of people I hope represent libraries or librarians now, nor do I hope these are the future leaders of the profession. I hope that librarians aren't a bunch of spoiled, whiny, and unbearably rude brats. I hope this because, while I was never Martha Dumptruck or the Ugly Chick in high school, one of the reasons I love the movie "Heathers" is because I enjoy watching a 100% pure bitch drink drain cleaner. It's very...cleansing.
Can we just get over ourselves and our liberal, white-bread, white-ass snobbery and gain some understanding of what the FUCK we were supposed to be there for?! And if you whiners can't figure out the last bit, at least stop griping about the carbon footprint of the conferences, the fact that California is notoriously based on driving instead of walking, the inanity of Disney, the perception that ALA is run by "Boomer Deadwood" and therefore toe-dally SUX!, and the lack of crunchy Trader-Joe-approved food. Use that energy to make your workplace better in a positive way.
I dunno. Maybe y'all just need to get laid. Or get stuffed. But please, for the love of Mike, shut up! It's enough to make this liberal-but-not-crunchy post-Boomer want to throw up a little on your self-righteousness. I remember being young and perfectly sure of the stupidity, hypocrisy, inanity, whatever-ity of The Oldies. Some of them annoy me still, now. But, what do you remember? Watching Ursula beat up on Ariel? Yeah. OK.
And what are you doing about it? Oh. Yeah. Working on that Second Life avatar that will change the world while simultaneously making a new LOLcat. Great. Let me know how all that works out for you. I'm sure you'll blog about it. Just remember: the people in Anaheim that you are talking trash about are PEOPLE who can READ your BLOG and be OFFENDED about how UNPLEASANT some LIBRARIANS are being about the place they LIVE. How would you feel if they were talking your hometown down that way?
And yes, believe it or not, I do get the irony. Because, you know what? Irony has been around...awhile.
Word Spy Word:
* No, I'm not about to link to any of them. If you haven't read any of them, and care to, go Google 'em all up.
Here's a hint: CO$T! It's ALL about money. My guess--and it is a guess--is that it runs several thousands of dollars less to book Anaheim (or Miami) in summer and Chicago (or Minneapolis) in winter. The hotels are also cheaper, and they are more willing to do deals on prices just to fill the rooms and get something. So are tourist things, if that's your thing, and restaurants and airlines. This means--listen up--it costs less for us to attend than it would if we went someplace Neato and Coolio like St. Louis in January or Boston in June.
And why Anaheim instead of L.A.? Hello? Go read paragraph #2. It's cheaper.
Why do I know this? Because I know people who work in the for-profit world. As much as that annoys me sometimes--huh--they have to justify the money they spend, and I will tell you all that there are times when they look at government (i.e. that would be us, kiddies) and are appalled at how clueless and retarded we are. So, chalk one up to ALA for saving money. ALA gets kudos for being financially responsibile on this count at least from me.
I was in Anaheim last month, across the street from Disney. I hate Disney. I'm not ridiculous about it--for instance, I don't hate it the way I hate terrorists or liver-and-onions--because I didn't feel compelled to partake in ANYthing Disney while I was there. I didn't eat, shop, ride, or enjoy ANYthing related to Disney, except 5 minutes of fireworks one night, in spite of practically marinating in Disneyfied air.
Guess what: I don't go to conferences to a) drink, b) eat gourmet food, c) have spa treatment, d) tour the vicinity, e) bitch about my host (i.e that would be Anaheim, kiddies). I go to LEARN. I go to enjoy some networking, to get excited about my job, to find out what might be coming down the pike, to meet some interesting people that I otherwise would not (and I assure you, I am NOT talking about the people doing most of the talking, though I did speak to Tim Spalding in the LibraryThing booth and congratulate him for being an instigator), to see an old place in new light or a new place period, and to get the FUCK away from work for a change of scenery!
So, Anaheim was hot, and there was a lot of concrete. So, I am out of shape. So, I am not thin. So, somehow--though I'm beginning to wonder if I imagined it--I hiked the distance to and from my cheap-ass motel (bar- and restaurant-free, mind you) and the conference site. I rode the shuttle bus precisely once, just to see how that worked. I walked 6-plus hours one day on concrete in exhibit halls and never once tried to steal anything that I "thought" was free but wasn't. I probably put three times more mileage on my feet in California than I do in the average month in 'real life.' And you know what? I could have gone several more days doing the same thing! It fucking was not that bad. Frankly, I felt crappier when I was on vacation in London four years ago walking (duh!) concrete streets and marble museum floors for a week.
The people who are bitching on their blogs about how AWFUL it was in Disn...er, Anaheim have a tone to their commentary that is very curious to me. It is the sound of cheerleaders talking down the Ugly Chick. It is the sound of Heather dismissing Martha Dumptruck. It is NOT the sound of a group of people I hope represent libraries or librarians now, nor do I hope these are the future leaders of the profession. I hope that librarians aren't a bunch of spoiled, whiny, and unbearably rude brats. I hope this because, while I was never Martha Dumptruck or the Ugly Chick in high school, one of the reasons I love the movie "Heathers" is because I enjoy watching a 100% pure bitch drink drain cleaner. It's very...cleansing.
Can we just get over ourselves and our liberal, white-bread, white-ass snobbery and gain some understanding of what the FUCK we were supposed to be there for?! And if you whiners can't figure out the last bit, at least stop griping about the carbon footprint of the conferences, the fact that California is notoriously based on driving instead of walking, the inanity of Disney, the perception that ALA is run by "Boomer Deadwood" and therefore toe-dally SUX!, and the lack of crunchy Trader-Joe-approved food. Use that energy to make your workplace better in a positive way.
I dunno. Maybe y'all just need to get laid. Or get stuffed. But please, for the love of Mike, shut up! It's enough to make this liberal-but-not-crunchy post-Boomer want to throw up a little on your self-righteousness. I remember being young and perfectly sure of the stupidity, hypocrisy, inanity, whatever-ity of The Oldies. Some of them annoy me still, now. But, what do you remember? Watching Ursula beat up on Ariel? Yeah. OK.
And what are you doing about it? Oh. Yeah. Working on that Second Life avatar that will change the world while simultaneously making a new LOLcat. Great. Let me know how all that works out for you. I'm sure you'll blog about it. Just remember: the people in Anaheim that you are talking trash about are PEOPLE who can READ your BLOG and be OFFENDED about how UNPLEASANT some LIBRARIANS are being about the place they LIVE. How would you feel if they were talking your hometown down that way?
And yes, believe it or not, I do get the irony. Because, you know what? Irony has been around...awhile.
Word Spy Word:
kindergarchy: n. Rule or domination by children; the belief that children's needs and preferences take precedence over those of their parents or other adults.
Do I really need to explain why I chose the word kindergarchy to end this post? OK, here's the thing: I'm not against people younger than me. I just don't want the good-hearted ones I know to be overrun by the Asshats with Attitude, a.k.a. Kindergarchs.
* No, I'm not about to link to any of them. If you haven't read any of them, and care to, go Google 'em all up.
Friday, July 11, 2008
Why I Love the Public (pt. ...uh...4,000,000,000?)
The phone at the Reference Desk rang last night at 8:43, just as I was about to make the "we're closing, go home you manky dolts!" annoucement.
"Is there...do you know how...{pause} OK, are you busy? Can you just come up to the circ desk for a sec?" It's Thursday night just following a wing-dinger of a thunderstorm--of course it's not busy. I debate making the announcement and then decide that whatever's going on up front can be handled quickly and THEN I'll chuck people out.
So I arrived up front. As I round the corner to the circ desk, I realize with that I was far too optimistic. My current least-favorite Thursday night regular is standing there, Mr. I've-Been-Hacked-on-the-Library's-Computers. Dude has hit several of us up about people getting his password and logging onto his account and using his time!!! Oh the horror of that! He was so demanding about it the first time--several months ago--that we went ahead and created a new library card so he could start over fresh because he insisted that changing his password on the old card wouldn't stop people from continuing to hack in.
Mind you, all they seemed to be doing thus far was using his time. To clarify, everyone gets an hour a day, which is shown on the screen when you first log in. If you've already been in and checked your email once at 10 a.m. and come back at 3, the timer will say something like "34 minutes" indicating that you have used 26 minutes already.
So about two months ago, dude comes FLYING up to me while I'm helping someone at the Ref Desk: "Someone has hacked my account! They've used my time. I just got here and it's telling me I've already used up part of my hour! I haven't..." Since I was helping someone else at the time, I told him to go log off for now and I'll come figure it out when I've finished with the people ahead of him in line. He was huffy, but I got to him quickly. Of course, he is (always) using the computer farthest away from the Ref Desk--and the rest of humanity--so it's a hike. When he logs back on, he points to the timer and says, "SEE?? SEEE???????? It says I only have 27 minutes left! But I haven't been here ALL DAY!" I look at the time, check my watch, and say, "Well, it is a little confusing, yes, but the fact is that we close in about 27 minutes, so that's all the time you have left today...because the computer will automatically shut down then."
"BUT SOMEONE USED MY TIME!!!" I go through the mechanics of what I had just said several more times and he eventually settled down with some grumbling.
However. Last night. OMG.
He logged on. Someone had used his time again. (same reason, duh) Plus, when he got into the start screen, there were two email accounts open on the desktop. Now THIS is weird: when people log off, the hard drive is supposed to be wiped clean of every-damn-thing they've been doing. He wrote down the email addresses and then proceeded on to use the internet. And logged out.
And then came to the circ desk to get a new library card. Because SOMEONE HAS HACKED INTO HIS ACCOUNT! [Pay attention--you'll love this next part.] See, those two people who left their email accounts logged in? They were hacking him. From those email accounts. Yeah. Because, somehow they knew he would be the next person in, and they could sit at another computer somewhere and log into their email and...what? This is not a party line on a phone where everyone can talk to everyone through any receiver they've left off the hook (i.e. any computer they've logged into their email with). Is it?
For the love of Pete.
So I told him that a) no one had used his time, it was just counting down till closing; b) he needs to tell us immediately when he sees the computer doing something he thinks is bad--like having other people's email still open after he logs in!; c) what you are suggesting is technically highly improbable (hell, it could be possible--how do I know?).
Then I told him again.
And again. And again. I even, at one point, say, "Look, you have to come get us as soon as you see something weird. After all, you don't go to the doctor a week after you stop throwing up to find out what made you sick last week, right?"
Luckily, he had to "leave for work."
Once he left, I made the #)@$*% Closing Announcement. Then I talked to ILL Tyrant--who had called me for help--and she said she had basically gone through the whole thing with him and he wasn't listening. Then Sout’ Sider said the whole hot mess had started with him demanding a new library card because (all together now) his account had been hacked!!
Dude is terminally nutso. He doesn't seem to be capable of getting unstuck from this one subject. But yet, he will sit down at a potentially buggy computer and open his own email and type in who-knows-how-many other passwords? And he will continually use a computer that he thinks has messed him up innumerable times rather than using any one of the other 30 in the building?
So, I have a list of stuff from last night to go over with the boss this morning:
This is why she gets paid the big bucks.
Urban Word:
"Is there...do you know how...{pause} OK, are you busy? Can you just come up to the circ desk for a sec?" It's Thursday night just following a wing-dinger of a thunderstorm--of course it's not busy. I debate making the announcement and then decide that whatever's going on up front can be handled quickly and THEN I'll chuck people out.
So I arrived up front. As I round the corner to the circ desk, I realize with that I was far too optimistic. My current least-favorite Thursday night regular is standing there, Mr. I've-Been-Hacked-on-the-Library's-Computers. Dude has hit several of us up about people getting his password and logging onto his account and using his time!!! Oh the horror of that! He was so demanding about it the first time--several months ago--that we went ahead and created a new library card so he could start over fresh because he insisted that changing his password on the old card wouldn't stop people from continuing to hack in.
Mind you, all they seemed to be doing thus far was using his time. To clarify, everyone gets an hour a day, which is shown on the screen when you first log in. If you've already been in and checked your email once at 10 a.m. and come back at 3, the timer will say something like "34 minutes" indicating that you have used 26 minutes already.
So about two months ago, dude comes FLYING up to me while I'm helping someone at the Ref Desk: "Someone has hacked my account! They've used my time. I just got here and it's telling me I've already used up part of my hour! I haven't..." Since I was helping someone else at the time, I told him to go log off for now and I'll come figure it out when I've finished with the people ahead of him in line. He was huffy, but I got to him quickly. Of course, he is (always) using the computer farthest away from the Ref Desk--and the rest of humanity--so it's a hike. When he logs back on, he points to the timer and says, "SEE?? SEEE???????? It says I only have 27 minutes left! But I haven't been here ALL DAY!" I look at the time, check my watch, and say, "Well, it is a little confusing, yes, but the fact is that we close in about 27 minutes, so that's all the time you have left today...because the computer will automatically shut down then."
"BUT SOMEONE USED MY TIME!!!" I go through the mechanics of what I had just said several more times and he eventually settled down with some grumbling.
However. Last night. OMG.
He logged on. Someone had used his time again. (same reason, duh) Plus, when he got into the start screen, there were two email accounts open on the desktop. Now THIS is weird: when people log off, the hard drive is supposed to be wiped clean of every-damn-thing they've been doing. He wrote down the email addresses and then proceeded on to use the internet. And logged out.
And then came to the circ desk to get a new library card. Because SOMEONE HAS HACKED INTO HIS ACCOUNT! [Pay attention--you'll love this next part.] See, those two people who left their email accounts logged in? They were hacking him. From those email accounts. Yeah. Because, somehow they knew he would be the next person in, and they could sit at another computer somewhere and log into their email and...what? This is not a party line on a phone where everyone can talk to everyone through any receiver they've left off the hook (i.e. any computer they've logged into their email with). Is it?
For the love of Pete.
So I told him that a) no one had used his time, it was just counting down till closing; b) he needs to tell us immediately when he sees the computer doing something he thinks is bad--like having other people's email still open after he logs in!; c) what you are suggesting is technically highly improbable (hell, it could be possible--how do I know?).
Then I told him again.
And again. And again. I even, at one point, say, "Look, you have to come get us as soon as you see something weird. After all, you don't go to the doctor a week after you stop throwing up to find out what made you sick last week, right?"
Luckily, he had to "leave for work."
Once he left, I made the #)@$*% Closing Announcement. Then I talked to ILL Tyrant--who had called me for help--and she said she had basically gone through the whole thing with him and he wasn't listening. Then Sout’ Sider said the whole hot mess had started with him demanding a new library card because (all together now) his account had been hacked!!
Dude is terminally nutso. He doesn't seem to be capable of getting unstuck from this one subject. But yet, he will sit down at a potentially buggy computer and open his own email and type in who-knows-how-many other passwords? And he will continually use a computer that he thinks has messed him up innumerable times rather than using any one of the other 30 in the building?
So, I have a list of stuff from last night to go over with the boss this morning:
-- Mr. I've-Been-Hacked-on-the-Library's-ComputersHee.
-- the non-functional Line 3 that went out during the storm last night
-- the missing emergency light that used to be at the Ref Desk that is MIA now
-- the fact that the pages don't have time to shelve and there are probably close to 100 abandoned books lying all over the nonfiction area since last Thursday when I cleaned all the tables off PLUS the cartload of stuff that's been sitting since the beginning of June next to the Ref Desk
....
This is why she gets paid the big bucks.
Urban Word:
combat nap: That 5-10 minute nap that you have to take when your body is completely exhausted and your mind is over stressed. Happens if you want it or not, and you usually wake up feeling like you've had a full night's rest.
I really could've used a combat nap last night at about 8:45.
Wednesday, July 09, 2008
CrankEEEE
Holy shit, Batman, I can't believe how cranky I am today!! Wow. If thoughts were matches, you'd want to keep me far away from flammable materials. There are just a whole host of idiotic, painful, and/or annoying things on my plate right now, not one of which is a dealbreaker, but together they are the perfect storm of Ranty. I vented some of my rage on my Blogthings results just now, which helped a bit, but ... damn. Just do NOT get me started, yo.
Tonight would not be the night to receive a call from those people who call themselves the local Fraternal Order of Police soliciting for donation. They always annoy me; tonight I think I'd just completely go postal with bells on all over the phone. On the other hand, that would be ok. At least it wouldn't be someone I care about getting in the way of the Bazooka of Flaming Apeshit.
Y'all have a wonderful evening now, y'hear?
Urban Word:
Tonight would not be the night to receive a call from those people who call themselves the local Fraternal Order of Police soliciting for donation. They always annoy me; tonight I think I'd just completely go postal with bells on all over the phone. On the other hand, that would be ok. At least it wouldn't be someone I care about getting in the way of the Bazooka of Flaming Apeshit.
Y'all have a wonderful evening now, y'hear?
Urban Word:
rack off: Phrase usually used by Aussies meaning "fuck off"
The universe needs to rack right off tonight!
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Why?
An interesting discussion occurred at work yesterday, prompted by a long-time patron of ours. He is a rather dour man. He's always been serious to the point of painfulness; not a guy who smiles more than twice a year, whether he needs to or not! He used to work with hospice as a spiritual advisor; at least that was the sense I got while talking to him at the Reference Desk 10 years or so ago. He frequently checked out books on dealing with grief and end-of-life issues. Yes, clearly, he had good reason not to be Santa Claus jolly.
In the past 6 or 7 years, he got married and has had a son. He's considerably less 'dark' now, but still pretty intense.
Yesterday he returned our copy of God's Problem, by Bart Ehrmann. The subtitle, and definition of the 'problem' in question, is "How the Bible Fails to Answer Our Most Important Question--Why We Suffer." I generally like Ehrmann's writing, but he has lost me on this book completely; I've already decided to pass. Not Mr. Dour. He returned it yesterday and asked Supplies, who was staffing the Circulation Desk, if she had thought about that question. When she replied--rather nonplussed--that she didn't have a good answer, he told her that because she didn't, that meant she was actually agnostic and couldn't really believe in God. Or something to that effect.
Needless to say, she was pretty shocked to find this out. Especially from a patron. With no discussion or a fair exchange of ideas. When she told me, I was really irritated because I find it really annoying to think that anyone would presume that someone at work would want to start a lengthy theological discussion with a 'customer.' I mean, what if we say the wrong thing and the customer decides we are crossing the line either socially or even legally?!
Plus, she's NOT an agnostic. On the positive side, it made for a very interesting staff conversation of the sort I've never had with Supplies before. She was quite...uh...hurt...discombobulated...frustrated by the encounter.
To top it off, as we were talking she noticed a couple of paper clips on pages in the book. When she opened to the page to remove the clips, we noticed that the book has been underlined and commented upon throughout! Of course, there's no way to prove he did it, but we are all pretty sure it was Mr. Dour. Damn his eyes. And I mean that, quite literally.
Asshat.
[For what it's worth, I think we suffer because we screw up on a regular basis. We do things we know are not the right thing and others do wrong things that impact us. I think there is some karma-like stuff that goes on in the sense that what you put into the world comes back at you, too. That doesn't mean that people get sick or are crime victims or experience weather-related tragedies because they sinned. What I mean is that we suffer from what we put into the world. If our overall perspective of the world is that it is a wondrous, positive place, that's what we will see even in the face of misery and horror. That doesn't mean good people never have bad things happen; it means that the bad things don't necessarily overcome people who can find goodness and joy in life. I'm not expressing this well, and it sounds very Pollyanna-ish, and it probably seems like I'm discounting the suffering in Darfur (e.g.) and omitting any mention of sick little kids. The key is that I don't know. It doesn't mean that I don't believe in God; it means I don't have God's overview and I don't know how it's all meant to work. That's when we come back to the part that I don't have problems with, ever: faith. I have faith that there IS a purpose. Some days, I do get glimpses of parts of The Plan. Someday I'll understand the whole thing.]
Urban Word:
In the past 6 or 7 years, he got married and has had a son. He's considerably less 'dark' now, but still pretty intense.
Yesterday he returned our copy of God's Problem, by Bart Ehrmann. The subtitle, and definition of the 'problem' in question, is "How the Bible Fails to Answer Our Most Important Question--Why We Suffer." I generally like Ehrmann's writing, but he has lost me on this book completely; I've already decided to pass. Not Mr. Dour. He returned it yesterday and asked Supplies, who was staffing the Circulation Desk, if she had thought about that question. When she replied--rather nonplussed--that she didn't have a good answer, he told her that because she didn't, that meant she was actually agnostic and couldn't really believe in God. Or something to that effect.
Needless to say, she was pretty shocked to find this out. Especially from a patron. With no discussion or a fair exchange of ideas. When she told me, I was really irritated because I find it really annoying to think that anyone would presume that someone at work would want to start a lengthy theological discussion with a 'customer.' I mean, what if we say the wrong thing and the customer decides we are crossing the line either socially or even legally?!
Plus, she's NOT an agnostic. On the positive side, it made for a very interesting staff conversation of the sort I've never had with Supplies before. She was quite...uh...hurt...discombobulated...frustrated by the encounter.
To top it off, as we were talking she noticed a couple of paper clips on pages in the book. When she opened to the page to remove the clips, we noticed that the book has been underlined and commented upon throughout! Of course, there's no way to prove he did it, but we are all pretty sure it was Mr. Dour. Damn his eyes. And I mean that, quite literally.
Asshat.
[For what it's worth, I think we suffer because we screw up on a regular basis. We do things we know are not the right thing and others do wrong things that impact us. I think there is some karma-like stuff that goes on in the sense that what you put into the world comes back at you, too. That doesn't mean that people get sick or are crime victims or experience weather-related tragedies because they sinned. What I mean is that we suffer from what we put into the world. If our overall perspective of the world is that it is a wondrous, positive place, that's what we will see even in the face of misery and horror. That doesn't mean good people never have bad things happen; it means that the bad things don't necessarily overcome people who can find goodness and joy in life. I'm not expressing this well, and it sounds very Pollyanna-ish, and it probably seems like I'm discounting the suffering in Darfur (e.g.) and omitting any mention of sick little kids. The key is that I don't know. It doesn't mean that I don't believe in God; it means I don't have God's overview and I don't know how it's all meant to work. That's when we come back to the part that I don't have problems with, ever: faith. I have faith that there IS a purpose. Some days, I do get glimpses of parts of The Plan. Someday I'll understand the whole thing.]
Urban Word:
Chuck a Spaz: It means to have a fit, whether it be epileptic or emotional. To forgo rationality and opt for spasmodic movements, arms flailing, and utterances of an incoherent nature. Likewise, it is the behavior of people who get upset when they don't understand something.
As much annoyance as Mr. Dour spawned yesterday, no one chucked a spaz, not even him, and he's renowned for his little snits.
Saturday, May 10, 2008
Mother's Day is Not Preceded by Sisters' Day
.
I just called my sister Marie, a call I should have/meant to make before now, to 'warn' her that I'd ordered a flower basket to hang outside Mom's window. Or something. Of course, the basket already arrived. Nevermind.
We talked over Mom's current condition. More decline, but nothing earth-shattering. The staff is irritating my sister. blah blah blah
I was in the midst of telling her something only to have her cut me off because she wasn't sure where Jan was and the engine on his car has been cutting out suddenly lately...and he might be calling for her to come rescue him.
Yeah. Nevermind. I got a sideways slap for taking anti-depressants and then cut off in the middle of telling her about Beast's accident yesterday.
I can't even work up a good rant. Sigh.
Urban Word:
I just called my sister Marie, a call I should have/meant to make before now, to 'warn' her that I'd ordered a flower basket to hang outside Mom's window. Or something. Of course, the basket already arrived. Nevermind.
We talked over Mom's current condition. More decline, but nothing earth-shattering. The staff is irritating my sister. blah blah blah
I was in the midst of telling her something only to have her cut me off because she wasn't sure where Jan was and the engine on his car has been cutting out suddenly lately...and he might be calling for her to come rescue him.
Yeah. Nevermind. I got a sideways slap for taking anti-depressants and then cut off in the middle of telling her about Beast's accident yesterday.
I can't even work up a good rant. Sigh.
Urban Word:
fornever:P.S. As I was finishing this up, an email came through from Marie thanking all the sibs for the flowers, etc., we'd sent Mom. The last line: "By the way, [Cat.], [Jan] was just over on the south driveway where I didn't look packing his car trunk and putting the top down! He was just too quiet!" Apparently, checking before hanging up on me is too much to ask.1. Never occurring, nor having the potential to do so.My siblings fornever give me credit for being an adult.
2. A seemingly non-existent period of time.
Friday, May 02, 2008
Mother's Day hints for husbands
Here's a hint, two things you shouldn't say to the mother of your children on or around Mother's Day. If you really MUST say them, be sure you are drunk off your ass, or save them till the end of the argument (viz. George Carlin). Both of these comments are what a friend's husband said to her last year, on Mother's Day, when she realized that there was no card/no gift forthcoming from him or their three preschool children.
And, ohbytheway, what you do when "Mom" isn't around to deal with the kids? That's NOT CALLED "babysitting." It's called "parenting."
1) "It's your JOB to be their mother." [The implication was clear that she's no hero, so don't expect any special treatment "just" for being a regular ol' mom. This, after they'd both spent several hours over the previous week making stuff for their kids' grandmothers without any suggestion that his mom was "just" doing her "job" as a grandma.]Here's another hint: if you see nothing at all wrong with either statement, you SUCK as a human being, and as a husband/significant other/co-parent/human being. Go live in a cave. Alone. Far away from your family.
2) "I'd probably have done something for you today if you hadn't gotten so fat and ugly." [She's not ugly, and the 'fat' is from baby #3.]
And, ohbytheway, what you do when "Mom" isn't around to deal with the kids? That's NOT CALLED "babysitting." It's called "parenting."
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