Nerd Pride Radio

Should I call the plumber or not? Sometimes you pretend your body is not covered by but simply IS a gossamer sheer Elie Saab gown that all negative affect passes through without sticking. WTF. Molars, consciously un-clenched with a click. What do I do here? Argh. Oh and today is Thursday. Oh My Stars I get it now, I get it. All is clear. But do I call the plumber?

Lord my husband is awake and watching Homeland at this hour. I don't even care. Whatever. I'd rather hear his take on Sessions. Which is, btw, ha ha what's new? And: ten percent more to military plus current geopolitical situation and current regime means a real war. But with whom?

My level of Grumpy also correlates closely with time spent getting ink stains out of carpets instead of doing work I need to do.

Five (5) Razor Blades were just extracted from my garbage disposal. I HAVE NO WORDS.

I want to state here for the record that I did not put razor blades on my sink and I have a special net that is put in both sides of the sink precisely to catch this kind of crap because it happens all the time and other people take my little net out of the sink all the time and I have nearly been driven insane by it all.

"I studied astrology, and..."

The rest of the sentence doesn't matter.

Now I want to see a Shadowrun Adept who uses Astrology to power ritual magic, just to give Brother Justice fits.

Ronald Reagan and I apparently have a lot in common astrologically, while husband is like Nancy Reagan, so clearly it's an exact and important science. Let's not be hasty...

Day of heck. People freaking out, being mean. Why? I have literally never seen the point of being mean to anyone at work. I work with so many people, none of whom has ever experienced that from me. That's how I was raised to be, you know? Workplace not place for rudeness. However, parents also taught the higher you rise, the more people enjoy taking a shot to knock you down. Solution: continue rising.

Phoebe's advice:

Stress at work? Get high.

I can help with this.

True! Go visit Eliahad. He lives like a mile up in the air. That's pretty high.

And there are these big pointy rock things that go up even higher! Some you can drive to and get out and walk around and you're like, 14,000 feet above sea-level!

More bad day. Just trying to roll out to end of week at this point.

Sometimes at the grocery store I use my own bags and sometimes I ask for paper bags. WITHOUT FAIL in either case, the person bagging asks, do you want your meat in plastic? Or they just go ahead and plastic bag it and throw it in some other bag, or straight in your cart. Now, if the meat was oozing crap everywhere, I could see the need for this, but really that just means the meat Dept should wrap it better.

Lately I have taken to saying a bit more in response, and the reaction has been surprisingly poor. Often they laugh in disbelief, or look at you with horror, or eyeroll, or respond with their own contrary feeling. I say my thing in a nice way with a smile, so it's not like I'm accusing anyone. For instance, I might shrug and say, no thanks, it won't hurt anything. Or no, it's fine like that. Or no thanks, go ahead and bag it with the rest. Pretty tame statements, yes?

It's like they can only accept self or paper bags within certain limits, and the obvious fact you're going to want the meat in plastic is one of them. Anyone who REALLY wants NO plastic is taking things to a dangerous place involving contamination. And it must not be the norm where I shop, or my ways wouldn't surprise so much. The whole "meat in plastic?" question is asked in a perfunctory way, often while reaching for plastic bag, as if the answer is always expected to be yes.

Obviously I do not shop often at fancy grocery stores, as on the rare cases I do, they don't even HAVE plastic bags. But given that such places exist, how is no-plastic so weird?

Also, why do people block the whole 2-cart aisle with their carts? At certain stores this is constant.

The other day a crazy person threaded the very narrow needle between me and another car to change lanes, barely escaping a wreck. Now, I always follow the law, but hypothetically, it's not impossible I was going ten over. So to be conservative, let's surmise the crazy person had to be doing at least that much, a few inches from the bumpers of two other cars. Despite this, she couldn't get any farther in traffic, and miles later pulled into work when I did, and yes, it was a co-worker. Awkward, for her.

We are also enjoying an epidemic of psycho tailgating MAGAtrucks around here. I live in Trumpville, where an F250 or equivalent Dodge ram with a window sticker of a peeing child and an anti-Hillary bumper sticker is de rigeur. The one thing I've always felt missing from my car and life is a bastardized image of Calvin peeing on something. I feel like people who have those should be required to identify themselves to the rest of us when they're not in their vehicles.

That's cool with me if they would just put it in a paper bag. The dangerous meats have already been in my cart, on my hands, the conveyer belt where other meats go... There's a lot of detail here. Just give me paper bags that can be freely soaked with salmonella, that's ok, put the apples in their own bag.

I have one group of people trying to steal a thing, another group acting like spoiled babies, and another group all upset and hysterical. Today we have to fend off the thieves, negotiate with the babies, and soothe the anxious. None of this is in the job description but this turns out to be the content of one's day.

Yes, yes I am, and my God, now that you put it that way, it all makes sense. And seems slightly less daunting. Except for one I didn't mention... Suppose one of the players in my campaign wrote actions that involve things like, "my construct kills someone who closely resembles the DM... Now now, this is just fiction!" Yes, real events. People are nuts.