Damn it all to pupperoni!

Well, Gale is off.

You see, for some reason, in the time animal control had her...no one thought to, oh, I don't know, examine her, before placing her out for adoption. So it was quite a surprise that the dog had a pup last night. Right, you have the dog a week, that we know of, and you don't bother to examine it in that time? How the hell do you know they don't have rabies and stuff exactly, then?

If we want to wait on Gale, it'll be two months of my mom being in an even deeper funk. Gale was helping her get over Wrinkles, helping her feel better. Right. So, I wonder, do shelter workers even fucking EXAMINE the dogs? At all? Gale will be living in a foster home during that time and we'll have first choice. Yeah, dude. We've been this route. Mom lost another dog because of puppies through rescue. This is becoming a joke, I swear to god. I'm starting to think that the rescue system can go to hell with all the "unexpected babies." It's really easy - examine before placing. Seriously. Not difficult.

Now my mom feels like shit and I'm pissed off an angry. Fantastic.

Asshole, star of the next Batman movie!

Okay, so he's baaack. I haven't given him a bit of attention, been thinking but not acting on him, and what happens? He calls me. I never did answer my phone, or call back. But Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. What the hell can I do? So I get curious, because he only wanders over to me when the A and B girls dry up.

Snooping, I go read his journal entry on LJ. What does he talk about? Babies and scary dreams. *sigh* Question answered. Dude, I'm not a human incubator. Go. Away. I haven't blocked the number, really no cause since I don't answer.

But here's what I've done since unceremoniously deleting him. Ready?
+ Deleted him from my private journal entries.
+ Blocked him from actually being able to comment on said journal.
+ Do not answer any communication. (Seriously, hello clue, much?)
+ Don't keep up with him at all.
+ Asked my mom if I can borrow a male relative to go kick his ass.

*sigh* I don't wanna be a Grade A, kick your ass and eat your balls bitch. I'm trying my best. But he's really not making it easy. I'm not a damn rabbit, so stop playing chase.

(Post title because I'm catching up on Gail Simone's awesomeness with Birds of Prey. Yes, yes I am a geek. For an explanation of breaking the fourth wall, I came up with: Ferris Bueller, Saved by the Bell, Deadpool, The Boy from Oz, and Doctor Who all on my own. Oh, yeah. Geek girl.)

I can't wait until my best friend T comes to town for Dragon*Con. God help him if he crosses her. *grins* Girl-o will bust his ass down...then call in the military for a little back up. *draws hearts all over T's internetness*

And the Asshole goes on...

So, yesterday, Asshole called. I was asleep, purposely avoided the phone, and ignored the message until 13 hours later. Now, you have to admit, that's some serious restraint. But mostly 'cause I'm beating my head against the wall over the 11th Doctor choice. Anyway, so I listened.

"Hi this [Asshole] just calling to wish you a Happy New Year."

What the fuck? I blocked him from my other journal entirely. He's not on my list and I banned him. I just want him to go. away.

I'm gonna have to get shitkickery. I don't want to. I really don't. I don't like being the best bitch this side of Sunnydale for no good reason. I might be Queen Jessica, cousin to Queen Cordelia, but damn. Even I need a break.

The Adventures of Asshole

So earlier today I was getting ready to shower to over to my godmom's when Asshole called.

Why? Glad you asked!

He has created a board game that's actually sold a fair amount for an independent. And he wanted me to test out with people. Right. Haven't heard hide nor hair for 2 weeks, since he called me anyway. His first statement? NOT "Hello." No, no. Not this asshole. It was "So I'm looking for people to test out [name not given because asswipe doesn't deserve the publicity.]." Right. I'll just take that time right now.

"No, I can't today. I have to go to my godmom's."
"What about Tuesday?"
"Can't. Doc appointment."
"At 7pm?"
"Then I have to go to my godmom's." Liiiiiar that I am.
"Oh, okay."

Then I, being the confused that I am, keep talking but stop mid-sentence after telling that my stepdad's coming over to fix my apartment a bit. I was tired of carrying the conversation and it was only 2 minutes in. Instead I decided to spend the next ten minutes starting a sentence, stopping, and letting it hang. He couldn't carry a conversation with me. Me. I'm like the easiest person to talk to because I have a wide variety of topics.

And the oddest thing he said? "Happy showering." Happy. Showering. Whiskey Tango Foxtrot?

Well, shit. That hurts my heart.

Yeah, see this is why Asshole is called Asshole.

He pursues me for almost 2 months. Meets me. Suddenly I'm not his cuppa. Because hey, I'm fat and don't look like an an anime character brought to life. Or that's what I'm assuming since he never said a damn thing about it. Look, asshole. If I can overlook the fact you play D&D like it's the end of your world, you can adjust. You had no problem telling me how every way you wanted to fuck me before you meet me now didcha?

Disappears for a fucking month. No note, no letting me know. Turns out, he was in Berkley/San Fran to see family. Okay, whatever. We weren't even dating, much less a relationship.

Calls me when he gets back. First time in like 6 weeks. Oookay. I talk to him. Stupid, stupid me. Since I haven't heard from him since.

Finally updates his blog about his vacation. Learn that he had another girl in his bed for 5 days recently. Didn't make a move. Supposedly. Which, I actually kinda believe because he's a chicken shit. And then he apparently went on a date with someone else. Please note that when I kept saying I'd go on a date with him, even point blank, he ignored it. Before he met me. And still tried to hook up with me. I'm not a piece of ass and I'm not for sale.

Fuck it. I'm tired of this shit.

I'm gonna be celibate forever. It doesn't hurt nearly as much as that kind of disregard.

Failboat Supreme

Okay, so let's discuss how STUPID my damn aunt is, shall we? Because she is dumber than dog shit. Actually, both of them. You see, I was expected to get my inheritance....oh, by now. But my aunt D (for Dummy) who wanted to buy one of the items is dragging her ass like whoa. She's flaky as hell, and a recovering alcoholic that analyzes everything to death. D, she's had thirteen months to decide. This is not a recent development. She still hasn't. So the rest of us are shit out of luck until she decides.

Now my other aunt who I'll call M (for Moron) is in charge of the trust. So what is she going to do? Wait until after this weekend to see how this latest sale went and then D will decide. Yeah. Because why not round that bitch up to fourteen months. It's not like some of us desperately need that money or anything. If D doesn't buy it, then they'll put it up for sale in November and distribute the money we have now. Yay? Look, y'all. I'm not a financial adviser or anything, but I'm pretty damn sure if someone hasn't bought the painting now, then it ain't gonna happen. It's gone up considerably in price, so let's sell and get the money. Stop letting D drag her feet.

This is why I don't talk to these people. I don't handle utter bullshit. And that's what this is. There's been trouble since this thing went into the family hands. I'm ready to roll up and go do some ass beating. Just saying. And passive-aggressive reactions is not cute, either. And I've received a couple of those in the emails.

I need a drink.

Kiss. My. Ass.

You know it's bad when we make Detroit look well-organized. We have a mayor that's truly bad at math. She's horrible at it. Her proposed budget is so backwards it's pathetic.

Because jobs aren't important.
For once, I'm all for violence.
Short and sweet.
God, I hate this woman.

How the hell do you have a 140 million dollar shortfall? Look, I just passed my math retarded classes. If I can manage to see the major issues, then she damned well should. So to be a politician do you need to fail 3rd grade math?

We're in the top 10 for foreclosures. People can't afford a 300k condo, so what does people do? Keep the prices up when the cheaper homes are flooding the market. This is not NYC. It's not. We're a big town, but we're not that damn big. Lay off a ton of people, and those tax hikes will be even higher because of waves of barely making it people leaving the town. This is not difficult. People who are laid off can't afford the 40 million tax increase. Hello? God, the stupid is astounding. Someone needs to make her a Pie Chart of Doom, like the one that in the JKR vs RDR lawsuit. Christ on a battered and dipped cracker.

I'm seriously considering having my godmom not move into the city if prices are gonna skyrocket. It's not worth paying so much on a condo.

*grumble grumble*

Fastest way to kill a crush?

Find out he's 20. And you're 26.

Damn it! I have a new rule. If under 25, everyone should be required to wear a damn age tag. He graduated high school...two years ago. I did eight years ago. *sigh* Age tags. I swear.

I don't date second graders.

Just Another Trying Thursday

This post will be short and sweet. You see, I have to get up and go to a mosque tomorrow for a school project. If I don't go to a different place of worship? I fail. I don't want to fail.

Now, onto my day. So I ordered my medicine before going to bed, but I have to wait because of they have to get the prescription refills. Fantastic. I was down my thyroid meds. This did not bode well for the day at hand.

I wake up at 12:30, after a whooping six hours (damn insomnia), and then drag my ass in getting ready for school until 2. And of course I must look my best because I can't look bad for CB. (More on CB in a minute.) So I get to Arby's for lunch before school. Eat in the parking deck at school. Go to get out of my car, have issues because apparently people don't understand that sedans need more than five inches on either side to open a door. So I get out as the guy next to me is coming to his car. Only, I have to drop my bookbag back in the car.

Out and waiting for him to go, I figure it's about time for CB to show up, so trying to not look like I'm looking for him. Then I try and open my doors. Then the other three. Of course, the doors are locked. Why not? Between bargaining with God and kicking the crap out of my car, I'm crying in frustration. For the record, I don't cry so I must have been upset. In between, I notice that CB gets to class. That does it.

After asking someone in the building I was supposed be going to class in if I could use their phone and getting declined ("No, I'm sorry. Try the security office.") I make my way to the Student Account office. (I was not walking to the security office, since I have to cross two lanes of school traffic to get there. Hell no.) I call my godmom, freaked out. I have to get the second set of keys, and they're with her. The problem? I have the only car between us. And it's hers.

So she has to get my mom to come bring them to me. And mom lives 20-25 minutes away from our house. In total, I wasted 1.5 hours. That means I missed my entire class because I had to wait outside to see her. Fantastic. No CB for me. So finally get into my car, thanks to mom driving forever, and have to show her how to get out. I go to Starbucks, because damned if I haven't earned it, and what do I find out? My Discover card is somewhere in the great blue yonder. Fine, I use my Capital One. The one I had earmarked for my tuition bill.

Finally I get to back to school, and the classroom door is locked. But CB ends up arriving, so fuck it. The door is unlocked like 30 minutes after I get there, and my prof shows up. (Poor middle-aged guy has kidney stones. Ow much?) I get a chance to ask CB about what I missed in the first class, since we have both the same Tuesday and Thursday class schedule. I tell him about why I wasn't there, and such. I learn he's noticed I drive a sedan (surprising because I didn't think he was paying much attention). This pleases me greatly.

CB stands for Catholic Boy. Crush that keeps on crushing harder. [CB's a Roman Catholic which explains the name. I know, right? I have the weirdest taste since I don't believe in the whole Jesus Our Lord part of Christianity.] It wasn't until like two weeks ago that I noticed he kept talking to me for stupid stuff, like he makes a point, and I'm going "hmmmmm" after I was vaguely jealous he asked about another girl in History. So not my typical type.

However, y'all know that movie The Cutting Edge? Verbal foreplay. He likes arguing. Gee, who else do you know that likes that? But he's still adorable. On Tuesday he was stealing looks in the computer lab. We were katty-kornered from each other, and I was busy drafting out a paper for Religions and he was doing a paper on The Ten Commandments for the same class. I had already done mine on The Ark of Truth, an SG-1 movie, because I'm that cool. Self-admitted geek, I told him so in History. Then he and another guy get into an argument about Star Wars. Yes. Star Wars. He lost all credibility about agreeing with my geeky assessment. That'd be about the time I wanted to plant one on him, but I'm not gonna in class. And I don't date classmates. Too much drama involved.

Zionks!

Scooby Sue, where are you?

ETA: I'm fine. The Atlanta tornadoes hit downtown, not the suburbs. Good thing we don't live there now, isn't it? It's insane, though. MLK Jr Blvd, Omni, Peachtree, Dome, Congress center. That whole area is fucked up. The Arena has sheet metal peeling off it.

Articles: AJC's take, Fox 5, ABC affiliate. (Note: I say tornado, because that's the best guess. No one actually has a clue yet.) 19k without power right now. Including traffic lights. Trust me when I say that here that's the equivalent of NYC not having any. The way the city's set up, there's no specific grid. All service personal (officers, EMTs, firemen) were called in to help with the damage. One person here compared it to the Olympic Bombing.

Photos
Centennial Park
Billboard
Atlanta
Downtown
During Mississippi-Alabama game
Omni Hotel
Don't fall
CNN Center
Water main break in Congress Center
Stack Lofts at Blvd
Lofts again. 5th floor is gone (being renovated). 100 year old walls blown out.

Road Trip To Hell...

A picture of Marineland, Florida taken on 12/15/07.











Okay, so we left for Florida on Wednesday. All happy and ready to enjoy our vacation. We had about six hours sleep each the night before, so after I got us through the Atlanta traffic, I went to sleep in the backseat. I was just that tired. And my mom drove from about Jonesboro to Tifton. And then we had to stop. Why? Because our dog was having a heat stroke. Two hours in. I broke about 8 different traffic laws finding the local vet, on I-75 no less. I was aching for a ticket, but I didn't get one. Thank god.

I found the vet, and a good thing, too. Wrinkles's head was lolling to the side, and her tongue was turning purple. Let's put it this way. It resembled a chow's. The techs, who have never seen us before, rush in to save her. We're scared to death since she's 12, and that's old for a pug. She couldn't hold her stool, or walk. Literally, she could only crawl around. So, we're waiting for the vet to get there (it was lunch break), and in the meantime we're freaking out more. Thinking what kind of crackpot clinic did we land in. Mama's thinking the dog will die, and I'm holding out hope she'll live.

So they have to put her under anesthesia because she can't breathe, even with oxygen. We hope and pray, and leave when they suggest it since the dog had shitted a bit on the seat. And my jeans. Oh, right forgot to mention that. I look down and there's a big spot of shit on my jeans. And I didn't even care. I washed them off a bit, and then worried about the dog. When we had to get gas, I stopped and changed. Tossed the shit on jeans because if we ended up taking the rest of the vacation, who wants to put that in their car for seven days. Good thing they were my Wallyworld ones.

We find the recommended car wash and they wash off the seat and vacuum it for fifteen bucks which was good since the seat couldn't be used until it was cleaned. So we kill time with that (pre tossing of jeans), and then go get the gas, where the jeans came off. And after that, we were like "you hungry?"so I asked the attendant a good place to eat at. See, we hadn't eaten since about 10 and it was close to 4 by then. Yeah, I was brilliant for a diabetic, wasn't I? But we had been dealing with Wrinkles and the ER trip since 1:30. We park into Ruby Tuesday's three exits up and I notice that we missed the phone call from the vet. She's stable for now! And we can come see her if we want. We leave the restaurant (hadn't even made it in), and rush over. Puppy is awake, but groggy. They're in love with her, no surprise, and she's handling it okay. Which is awesome since she's never been in a kennel before. Oh, and they need to take some blood.

They're going to keep her overnight, so we need to find a place to stay. We go back to the restaurant and get some really good food. My dad calls and I'm filling him in on the events leading up to it. After awhile, the manager, who helped with mama's dairy issue choices, recommends the Holiday Inn next door.

Okay, it seems awesome. Except not so much. The curtains are like see through, and there is no heavier fabric to keep it dark. But okay, we can handle it. It wasn't that bad. Not really. Just, weird since we're on the bottom floor and everyone can see in. We had unpacked enough clothes and stuff to last the night and didn't cart everything in. We had said if the pup didn't make it, that we were turning around. No need to go on vacation while in mourning.

The doctor calls around 6. The bloodwork came back fine, very well in fact. They were surprised since the age of the dog. Go team us. And no, the pup doesn't have her vaccinations, because of severe allergic reactions. I mean, she shits and vomits for two weeks afterwards. And at that age, it's just not worth it. We're told to call in the morning and we'll see if she can go.

The next morning we're out the door by 10:30, ready to pick up the dog. There's a Starbucks in the parking lot (like literally it was about 20 feet from the motel), so we go get some pastries and coffee to go. Then we go pick up Wrinkles and while still groggy, she's okay. We're told to not use her harness unless absolutely necessary and to chuck the travel harness out since it was cutting off her air supply. Mama rides in the back with her, like she always does when it's her turn. And the total vet bill for oxygen, fluids, anathesia, eye drops, antibiotics, and general stuff? 236. Yes, that's like a fraction we were expecting. For all that, including Pill Pockets, and those are about 10 bucks. We wanted to take these people home with us.

If you're ever in Tifton and have an emergency, I fully endorse Quailwood Animal Clinic. The people are awesome. They even handfed Wrinkles chicken. We usually just feed her Purina Beneful (something the doc actually endorsed, too), but they spoiled the hell out of her. But Quailwood is like top notch.

We make it to St. Augustine, finally. In about three hours or less. I'm a speed demon and I can change lanes like no one's business. I mean, hey, I learned to drive in Atlanta. I can handle any traffic combat.

I'll continue the motel adventure tomorrow. This is already a book. But the moral of the story is that Wrinkles is fine.

This is why we can't have nice things...

So, I ignore the news around Atlanta pretty often. Come on, y'all have seen the utter shit from the local news being picked up worldwide has produced. Imagine that every single day. Yeah.

So what did I find when I randomly tuned in earlier today? Oh, I found this. Apparently sex offenders? Have the total right to live around small children. Because clearly all the psychologists are wrong, and people aren't repeat offenders. That it's curable. Uh huh. Right. I wonder how many people clapping about this law overturn actually realize what really goes on in offenders' brains during that. I mean, it's not like there's research on it or anything. Oh, wait.

God, this is why my stupid state can't have jack. Because they're all a bunch of moronic idiots with the IQ of a decomposing fish. Good lord. The stupid is mind-boggling, I think.

Thump, thump, thump...oh shit!

So, I promised a Hell House story. Sorry it's late. It's been a bitch of a couple days, and to boot, I lost my blood meter and the insulin I'd been using at school today. Luckily, I have my Humalog extras here, but not Lantus, so I need to go deal with that later. Plus, I had that Regents writing test. Y'all, it's basically an effort to make us look smarter. The test is so easy it's pathetic.

Okay, on with the story. Now it's obvious that my godmom moved, yes? And without her mom, who died in the house. Hey, we weren't kidding when we said the house killed her. Because it killed or maimed just about everyone there. She found a buyer, a woman that had a couple million in the bank and a new younger husband. On top of the world. After my mom reduced the house a hundred grand, just to get rid of the damn thing. This would be the lady whose painters shot up the walls (after painting them a lovely shiny, hard as hell to get rid of enamel paint in primary colors) and her husband liquidated everything, leaving her penniless. Oh, and last time Mama heard about her, was in a state mental hospital.

That means...time to hire a mover. Simple process. Pick one that's from a major company out of the phone book, hope to hell they're reliable, and you're good to go. And that's exactly what my godmom did. So the guy in charge comes over to assess the house and how much it'd cost to move. Of course the ghosts aren't happy because they can scare someone they know here. Or make her angry. Or both.

They're moving along and dealing with the psycho ghosts; she's just saying the resident ghosts are kicking up a storm. The usual thing to hear in the area, actually. Except then the ghosts do something so terrifying (and I've never been clear in understanding, and she's never explained it thoroughly) that he has a heart attack on the 4th floor. Which is three flights of steps. Which means the EMTs have to climb up them and down, or take the elevator. Only the elevator's made for like two people and not a lot. So they have to use the stairs.

Mom's pretty much used to dialing 9-1-1 at this point, so no big deal. And, of course, she's assuming the movers are out. Only, they're not. Totally in for moving her, even if the house did give the dude the heart attack. Now the kicker is that he's reduced the price in half! That's right. To move from Myrtle Beach to Atlanta is now half the price. And she had a house full of furniture that hadn't sold so it had to come with her; along with her clothes, kitchen stuff, usual housewares. Doesn't matter. The guy made it clear that she "had to be out of that house as soon as the last document was signed." And she was. They were out of there that day. Four floors. That's some serious dedication.

So how many houses have you lived in that caused someone to have a massive heart attack that landed him/her in the hospital for quite awhile?

Rain, rain, come again today!

Holy cow. Okay, I don't know how many people are aware of the Atlanta drought going on. But Lake Lanier supplies the water for majority of the metro area, if not all, and we're 13 feet below. We're going down a foot a month. The boat ramps are pretty much on dry land now. In 3 months we could be without water for the most part. The lake is 38,000 acres, according to Wiki. Lanier spans four counties, at varying degrees, and until this summer was the place to go swimming. Not so much when you can see the rocks and pebbles on the bottom.

I've been worried for awhile now. Especially since it turns out that there are 700 spots in Atlanta that are overflowing thousands of gallons of water from the ground. That couple thousand is seriously needed. There's major bans going on, and no one's listening. I heard our apartment complex's sprinklers going at night. If they continue, I'm gonna have to tell someone. Because dude. Hello? 13 feet below average. We have enough water to serve 121 days in storage because we haven't been rained on for more than 30 minutes in a long ass time. We need a goddamn storm to come through and stay for a week. I'll drive in it. Fuck it. I'm more concerned with the water issues.

Watch the news report (if you have high speed) and see how bad it is. I haven't talked about it since Atlanta's pretty much always in a drought. The problem is they keep allowing developers to create these high rises. The city's water system is about 70 years out of date. Yes, you heard that right. 70 years. And adding 30 story highrises doesn't help. We don't need them first of all. Seriously, we don't. We're like the second city in foreclosures. We can't afford the 200k houses, what makes them think we can afford 500k?

When we lived downtown, we had a lot of water issues and it was running out then. That was in 2001. It's 2007 and nothing's really changed. Except the development. I'm really concerned cause the lake provides for something like 6 million people. And the corps are pulling the same amount of water to help endangered species. Look, I'm all for helping the fish species, really. But if it comes to me or the damn fish? Sorry, fishy. You'll make a fine meal instead.

Go team Georgia. Truly, your intelligence is inspiring. Just ask ole boy Sonny Perdue. You might know him as the Governor of Georgia. He's the same man that let his son use the official helicopter to get to games easy, back when we gas was so expensive.

Boo Motherfuckers

Oh, LJ/6A you fail so hard it's insane. So, once again, people are getting TOSed, without anyone clarifying what's TOSable. Apparently common sense went out the window. I keep my LJ for my fandom things. That's the whole point of that account at this point, and I'm not going to link it either. It's where I can put shit y'all don't care about, and I'm a complete feedback whore, so instant gratification is a blessed thing.

Now, I don't particularly like Snape and Harry relationships, or any student/teacher. I never have, wasn't my kink. Chan/lolita/whatever the hell else you call makes me squick the fuck out and run and hide. But I also didn't judge other people. How could I? Dude, I read Harlequin romances...and am proud about it. I have no room to judge. So, they're cracking down because the wackos at Perverted Justice are on them this time. Seriously? These people fail so hard at business sense that it's astounding. Y'all, fictional characters? Get the same treatment as real people. Uh huh. That whole 'fiction isn't reality' thing is a blurry line with these fools.

I'm not gonna hash it out much more, because well, I've been looking at it all damn day, and why I haven't visited many blogs. It's just insane. LJ/6A needs to go back to business 101. If you piss off your customer base, it will leave. When it leaves, advertisers won't stick around. Then you have a waste of money, and you'll have to close something you paid a lot of money for. Dude, if I can figure this out after one marketing class, then they're totally fucked.

Oh, and the Supreme Court? Totally the best thing to model anything on for the obscene laws. The same Court that said fiction couldn't be obscene, because it is in fact not real. And LJ/6A is the same company that said that fan fiction and art was safe, three months ago when they did the first dumbass shit of deleting and permabanning people without investigating. *sigh*

Make the stupid stop. Make it stop.

Death By Chili

The other day, my godmom and I went to Steak N Shake, as we usually do once a week or so. Ate some food, grabbed three or four cans of chili to go.

Skip to now. I'm looking something up for my other mom, bread that has metal in it or something. She didn't hear because we were talking on the phone. Bopping along on our ABC affiliate's website, scouring but couldn't find it. And what do I find under the consumer report?

Castleberry Hill's recall on botulism. And guess what? There's been a recall on Steak N Shake chili with the 195 lot. Yes, that's right. The same lot we ate. Lovely! My godmom said it tasted funny. Was it the taco chips? No, we'd just opened them a week before. Guess we know why it tasted funny, huh?

Flipping That Switch

Soo...my temper? Is pretty hard to get up if you work in customer service. I'm awesome about talking to representatives, cashiers, bank tellers, wait staff...whatever. Because I was raised to be polite since they're doing you a favor. So, because of that, it takes a lot to get me yelling on the phone. Wanna know the top way? Pussyfoot when I'm asking a direct question, and trying to explain that, because my city so damn special, Bellsouth only has three cities in the country with my kind of DSL. I know this because when it was getting set up, the BellSouth people told us..repeatedly. Therefore, I'm not a complete dumbass, even if I'm not a computer tech major. When I tell you four freaking times, pay attention. Don't give me instructions that DO NOT WORK. Especially when I tell you this, time and time again. I'm sorry if you're not qualified, but hey, you're Tech Support. Therefore? Pay attention to what I'm saying.

I dealt with this from 11am-6pm last night. Seriously. Off and on, all day. First time, "oh, we're doing a network fix [except, he didn't use fix, but fuck if I can remember what it was called]. Call back after 1:10 if it doesn't work." This was after being hold for 15-20 minutes, with the lady recording going, "all our network representatives are busy" EVERY 15 SECONDS. Y'all? I had heard that the night before last when the storm knocked our DSL out in the first place. So I had to listen two times in less than 12 hours. Oh, and they use voice activation. God, that shit is awful. I can't even get a live operator. Seriously, they do not exist IN THE TECH DEPARTMENT.

I call back at nearly 3 since it still wasn't working, listening to the same damn lady talk every 15 seconds, with me adding lots of threats like, "If I hear you one more goddamn time, I'm going to kill you." 15 seconds later, "No, seriously. Gonna kill your ass dead." My irritation went ratcheting up higher and higher every time she spoke. 15 minutes later, I get to talk to someone. Who once again acted like I had helium holding my head up. Again, don't talk down to me. That'll press my bitch button quicker than she-who-gave-birth-to-me asking me to go get her liquor because she's too drunk off her ass to drive. Actually, that just makes me sad, since it's happened more than once. Either way, he was talking to me like that. Didn't turn out well for him. I started yelling. As referenced, I don't yell at people who are doing their job, because that's just not right. Talk down? Oh, hell yeah I will. Especially since I was again telling these yahoos that our DSL isn't like everyone's else and we don't have a company router because the company doesn't make them. We have to use LinkSys. (But when I set up LinkSys, the BellSouth people were nice enough to help me out, setting it up.)

Oh, right. BellSouth was bought out by AT&T not too long ago. Fuck me with a chainsaw, y'all. AT&T in Atlanta's a joke. We were thrilled to be out of their area when we moved out here. Now we're back in hell since it has the Atlanta monopoly.

Anyway, after finally flipping my shit, he still talked to me like I was a three-year-old. Bubba, don't even try that with me. I will fillet your ass and hand it back to you on a silver platter. He kept saying, "it's your computer." Uhm, it might be? But that's why you have tech guys come out and see. It's the crazy thing people are doing now. I got so frustrated that I handed the phone to my godmom, and went, "Here! Talk to him before I do something bad." She had no idea what was going on (she pays for the service, I'm the tech person on this end when listening to people who actually know what they're doing) but backed me up. All the way. And he started talking to her like he was me. I could tell by the expression on her face. That did it. I was sitting there, yelling about a foot or two away. "Don't try and pacify us." And he kept talking to her like he missed JESSIE FLIPS HER SHIT 101, and finally, when she was asking for his supervisor, he got downright rude. That's when I screamed, "GET YOUR BOSS ON THE PHONE NOW." He heard me. Because when the supervisor got on the phone line, I railed hardcore. He said, "I'll put an expedite order on it. It'll be two hours before he gets back to you." I was telling him that I wanted a tech out here last night, even if it was the last stop, because this was fucked up. I wasted all day, listening to tech advice, when he could have been out at one. Oh, and the tech, only works 1-5. Okay, whatever.

So I help my mom around after hanging up, because I had two hours. Turns out? Not so much. More like half an hour. I look at my cellphone at 4:30, and he had called an hour ago. Okay, fine. I call the number back, trying to get a hold of him. Not so much. You can't call it back, even though it's a work phone. You have to have a password to get in touch...with the TECH. Okay, whatever. This is why I hate and loathe AT&T with a passion. I finally call the tech support number AGAIN, get the same lady recording. Scream at the phone in frustration, call the main residential service, but she handed me BACK to the recording lady. I find out that the tech said he'd talked to me, and he totally hadn't. Still trying to figure out why he called on my cell, instead of the regular phone, since you know, that was fine. (Which is another mess for another day.)

Okay, so he was going to be here between 1-5 today. At 2, he arrives. Turns out that the lightning storm that hit about 100 feet from our house fried the networking card in my computer, only he replaced it, and hey, STILL didn't work. Fucking hell. So in the next couple of days we have to go to Office Depot and get it checked out.

Oh, and kicker? This is the second computer that this apartment has fried of mine. Same outlet, since it's the only close to the phone jack (well, the jack that works). The wiring in this apartment is fucked over. One phone jack can't be used, the other one in my room, because it kills the phone line. Then we have the various electrical outlets that we can't use anything with the power of say a vacuum because it'll either catch on fire, or cause half of our apartment's electric to stop working. Not to mention when they had to rewire in lines over the pantry (phone lines), by going into the ceiling and tying to make the wiring less fucked up. And the phone lines in the hall closet, where they all meet, is so screwed.

Oh, yeah. These apartments were well built. So that's where I was the past two days. One can only watch The Deadliest Catch so many times, by the way. I was so bored it was unreal.

Why come?

Okay, ignore the perv part of that title, please. Thank you. Now, why did my godmom have to tell me bleu cheese had mold in it?! That's my favorite dressing, like ever, and now? I can't eat it. I mean, I knew the blue probably wasn't good for me, but without knowing, I could pretend, damn it! Now, I can't. And I love steak and bleu cheese salad. Mmmm. *sigh* Why, why does she tell me these things? I like not knowing. Makes it easier to pretend. Of course, I eat mushrooms on my salad, too. So you know, fungus doesn't rate as high as mold, apparently. Well, it did take me like 10 years to eat fungus again. Maybe in a few years, I'll be able to eat bleu cheese again. Of course, I'll be like 35 probably forgotten what it tastes like.

Also, when your little toaster oven (you know the little fake ovens you warm leftovers in) starts vibrating and making noises, you need a new one. I foresee a trip to Walmart's tomorrow. A very necessary one. I wonder how long it's been doing that. Mama tends to not notice those type things. Oops. Unplugging it nearly burned me. Since the plug's behind it.

Oh goody! I'm old.

At 25, I'm afraid that I've got another medical problem. Diabetes is like the jumping off point, which sucks ass. I have subclinical hypothyroidism. What is that? Fuck if the Internet's telling me. All I know is that I'm on pills now. More medicine. Oh, yay. And I have to take this one hour before I eat, which means I have to wait to take my insulin. Goody, goody gumdrops. Since that seems ever so safe! Of course, a quick look at the medicine website tells me, that oh goody, Type I diabetes is an autoimmune disease. How come my docs never told me this? Hello, this is very, very important information.

Bloody hell, and now I'll have to start getting up at 9am every day to keep it on a normal schedule. I like sleeping until 1 pm, damn it. *sighs*

From their website:

Do not stop taking Synthroid or change the way you take it unless your doctor tells you to do so. If you do not take your pills each day as prescribed, your doctor may not be able to tell if your current Synthroid dose is helping to keep your thyroxine level in balance.

If your doctor prescribed Synthroid even though you had no hypothyroid symptoms, you need to keep taking Synthroid even if you feel fine. Stopping the medicine could lead to other health conditions, such as infertility, problems during pregnancy, and heart disease. It is very important to get follow-up TSH tests to make sure your TSH level is within the target range.

Oh, gee! That makes me feel good. Good thing I hadn't planned on having kids anyway. You know what? I give up. I do. I say I go back into my mother's womb and start over. Okay? Or better yet, lemme pick out a better model when it comes to mother. I need one that's not a bitch from hell. Thank you ever so much.