New York pizza will be defended until the room is painted red!
(hopefully with marinara sauce...)
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In jr high and highschool I'd make pizza and movie money shoveling driveways. The old lady didn't have any cash but usually had hot cocoa. If it wasn't bad she'd get her driveway done last but if there was a lot she was just before lunch break...Snow removal in WI. It's hard to get people willing and capable. Most quit fairly quickly.I've now been working for 10 days straight, and 13 out of 14 days.Employees pay with organ failure because we don't pay employees enough to get a bunch of them is NOT a viable business model....
Yeah, if we see an old person shoveling when we roll up on a neighborhood we automatically take over, free of charge.
A lot of times they'll give a tip but i give that to my crew (which boosts morale).
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It's astonishing how much a sense of betrayal will alter your shopping habits. As I've mentioned, when the previous owner of the corner store retired and sold the store, the new owners did a lot of things people didn't like; they brought lottery tickets, hard liquor, and cigarettes to the fore. They redesigned the entire interior and changed what they stocked. But all of that I could have lived with if they hadn't absolutely ruined the produce section. I've mentioned that we've made multiple attempts to go back, and every single time we've tried to buy produce something has been rotten.
Leading to today's conversation.
NobodysHome: I need to do my walk after work anyway, so I'll toodle on up to Theftway and get the milk.
Impus Major: The corner store has milk.
NH: I also need eyedrops and lottery tickets.
IM: I guarantee the corner store has lottery tickets.
NH: Yeah, but they feel sleazy.
IM: I can't argue with that.
I'm amazed they're still in business.
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Snow removal in WI. It's hard to get people willing and capable. Most quit fairly quickly.I've now been working for 10 days straight, and 13 out of 14 days.Employees pay with organ failure because we don't pay employees enough to get a bunch of them is NOT a viable business model....pay me in dairy queens and I will shovel all the snow you want.
A Dairy Queen is what a milk maid's called when they hit level 20, isn't it?
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As a new yorker, they will have no choice but to listen to me when I critique it.The only group Texans disdain more than New Yorkers is Californians. You have been warned.
That whole gag in commercials for Old El Paso salsa where they s#!t on other salsa brands for being made in NYC and then threaten to lynch the guy who brought any brand other than Old El Paso? That's how people in Texas actually talk. If anything, the commercials and the violence they (imply to) inflict on the people using NYC-made products is tame compared to how real-life Texans talk about anything from NY or CA.
This is not a joke. If you are going to travel to Texas, be very careful about talking about being from New York. Unless you spend every moment of talking about the state ensuring everyone around you knows you hate it in NY and are taking any and every opportunity to leave, you WILL risk violence against yourself.
And that goes [u]double[/u] if you make it well-known to too many Texans that you're from there and think ANYTHING about it is better than Texas. And that goes quadruple if you're in a rural area or smaller town.
I know this looks and reads as hyperbolic but I assure you I am not in any way joking.
Orthos. It means the world to me that you would worry for me so. I am aware of the ugliness that occurs in Texas with respect to NY rivalry, and I would certainly do my best to make sure I was not being an ugly tourist. If things got bad(a long ago trip to OH, and a very specific con in CT comes to mind...), I would extricate myself from the situation quickly and with courtesy.
But when it comes to pizza specifically, I will happily take on all comers. I invite Texans to attempt to make a pizza there and compare it to NY pizza. I would include Chinese food but I have heard of the very real Chinese disaspora and have been educated/informed that this is the wrong kind of competition to engender, so I would like to try Texas...
NO. YOU REALLY WOULDN'T.
Trust me on this.The best thing about working for Chinese nationals for seven years was that I ate very well. The worst thing is that it spoiled me, and now crappy Chinese food angers me. And I have yet to find even halfway decent Chinese food here.
Now Korean food, that's another story.
There is a f***ton of good Korean food here.
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A Dairy Queen is what a milk maid's called when they hit level 20, isn't it?Snow removal in WI. It's hard to get people willing and capable. Most quit fairly quickly.I've now been working for 10 days straight, and 13 out of 14 days.Employees pay with organ failure because we don't pay employees enough to get a bunch of them is NOT a viable business model....pay me in dairy queens and I will shovel all the snow you want.
Yes.
Every county has one, and the coronation is at the fair, by the local 4-H club.
It's a big f*$*ing deal.
Sometimes I forget Mephisto's lineage; his father is a 20-pound engine of death who was originally obtained as a barn cat to eliminate the rats. All the rats died. The smaller birds of prey that were stupid enough to swoop down to try to pluck a chicken died. He'd initiate fights with the local raccoons or coyotes and hold them at bay until his "big brother" the 80-pound rottweiler showed up. Never heard of coyotes dumb enough to get killed by domesticated dogs before, but apparently Mephisto's dad lured them to their doom. Once everything not welcome on the property was dead, he promptly moved inside and made himself at home. And impregnated the local lady. (The vet insists they neutered him. Putting him side-by-side with Mephisto there is no doubt whatsoever as to Mephisto's lineage.)
So, yeah. Mephisto is a big
dumbsingle-minded sweetheart. He's never touched any of us nor the other cats with his claws. But sometimes, when he's playing with an inanimate object, you realize just what a monster we have in our house. The cat ladder we brought in was stripped to the wood within a month, and now the wood is splintering. When he extends his claws to explore something you realize they're the biggest, longest, nastiest set of claws you've ever seen on a cat.It's like the opening segment of an action movie. At some point something's going to happen. A neighborhood bully cat is going to attack Nefret. A raccoon is going to slip past us an get into the house. And those claws will get used. And it won't be pretty.
He is a lovable, huggable, adorable, terrifying beast.
He sounds like a chip off the freeholdian block.
Sometimes I forget Mephisto's lineage; his father is a 20-pound engine of death who was originally obtained as a barn cat to eliminate the rats. All the rats died. The smaller birds of prey that were stupid enough to swoop down to try to pluck a chicken died. He'd initiate fights with the local raccoons or coyotes and hold them at bay until his "big brother" the 80-pound rottweiler showed up. Never heard of coyotes dumb enough to get killed by domesticated dogs before, but apparently Mephisto's dad lured them to their doom. Once everything not welcome on the property was dead, he promptly moved inside and made himself at home. And impregnated the local lady. (The vet insists they neutered him. Putting him side-by-side with Mephisto there is no doubt whatsoever as to Mephisto's lineage.)
So, yeah. Mephisto is a big
dumbsingle-minded sweetheart. He's never touched any of us nor the other cats with his claws. But sometimes, when he's playing with an inanimate object, you realize just what a monster we have in our house. The cat ladder we brought in was stripped to the wood within a month, and now the wood is splintering. When he extends his claws to explore something you realize they're the biggest, longest, nastiest set of claws you've ever seen on a cat.It's like the opening segment of an action movie. At some point something's going to happen. A neighborhood bully cat is going to attack Nefret. A raccoon is going to slip past us an get into the house. And those claws will get used. And it won't be pretty.
He is a lovable, huggable, adorable, terrifying beast.
He sounds like a chip off the freeholdian block. In fact, this was the scene before both Mephisto and I were conceived.
Cyzzane has defended her dissertation. One more semester and an intership, then she will be a real doctor.
CONGRATULATIONS this is a momentous occasion.
Cyzzane has defended her dissertation. One more semester and an intership, then she will be a real doctor.
WOOHOO! CONGRATULATIONS!
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Many, many failed attempts at predicting Lily's demise notwithstanding, Nefret's weight has been uncomfortably unstable for weeks now, and she's been steadily eating less every day. Today she's refused all food and water, which isn't a good thing in an 18-year-old cat.
But she's curled up in her favorite spot on the bed, basking in the winter sun with the electric blanket turned on underneath her, and Mephisto's doing his usual, "lie down 3' away from her so she knows he's there but he's not intruding on her space", so all in all, if she's fading, she's fading about as well as a pet cat can hope to.
EDIT: And I can still get her to eat baby food, so at least I'll keep her going 'til GothBard gets home.
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Cyzzane has defended her dissertation. One more semester and an intership, then she will be a real doctor.
Like, allowed to cut up people, allowed to cut up paintings, or perform mad science under lightning storms?
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Cyzzane has defended her dissertation. One more semester and an intership, then she will be a real doctor.Like, allowed to cut up people, allowed to cut up paintings, or perform mad science under lightning storms?
The funniest part about becoming a "real" doctor is that you quickly learn that everyone who insists on being called "doctor" after the first few celebratory months is a complete so-and-so, so you end up not wanting to use the term yourself.
Outside of angry letters to global corporations, I haven't used the term "Dr. NobodysHome" in some twenty-five years now.
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I’d going to say that last option.
Also yes, the title is secondary to being able to do the work that requires the degree. No way she would go back for a second round if it didn’t require the PhD.
Had we but known that we’d be in one place long enough, she would have done the full doctorate the first time instead of the specialist degree.
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Cyzzane has defended her dissertation. One more semester and an intership, then she will be a real doctor.Like, allowed to cut up people, allowed to cut up paintings, or perform mad science under lightning storms?The funniest part about becoming a "real" doctor is that you quickly learn that everyone who insists on being called "doctor" after the first few celebratory months is a complete so-and-so, so you end up not wanting to use the term yourself.
Outside of angry letters to global corporations, I haven't used the term "Dr. NobodysHome" in some twenty-five years now.
Yeah, funny how the more utterly b*****t the degree, the more desperately some people want to throw that title around (cough Whingey Wizzard cough).
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Hey now, hey now, *I* didn't name names.
But yes, I was very much thinking of him...
EDIT: Do you remember when I finally snapped and pointed out to him that he was currently in a house with THREE other Ph.D.s, including an M.D./Ph.D., none of whom had so much as mentioned the fact during all his visits?
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Yeah, funny how the more utterly b*****t the degree, the more desperately some people want to throw that title around (cough Whingey Wizzard cough).Cyzzane has defended her dissertation. One more semester and an intership, then she will be a real doctor.Like, allowed to cut up people, allowed to cut up paintings, or perform mad science under lightning storms?The funniest part about becoming a "real" doctor is that you quickly learn that everyone who insists on being called "doctor" after the first few celebratory months is a complete so-and-so, so you end up not wanting to use the term yourself.
Outside of angry letters to global corporations, I haven't used the term "Dr. NobodysHome" in some twenty-five years now.
So he is Dr. Darling!
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Yeah, "Why I Am Not A Vet".
So, as far as I could tell, Nefret ate nothing whatsoever yesterday. This morning I weighed her to see how far gone she is...
...and she's gained weight since Monday.
Seems like she waits 'til I'm asleep, then gets up and binge eats.
My ancient old cat the frat boy...
Cunning in her old age!
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Cyzzane has defended her dissertation. One more semester and an intership, then she will be a real doctor.Like, allowed to cut up people, allowed to cut up paintings, or perform mad science under lightning storms?The funniest part about becoming a "real" doctor is that you quickly learn that everyone who insists on being called "doctor" after the first few celebratory months is a complete so-and-so, so you end up not wanting to use the term yourself.
Outside of angry letters to global corporations, I haven't used the term "Dr. NobodysHome" in some twenty-five years now.
I am feeling quite targeted!
In today's episode of, "NobodysHome tries not to get fired..."
Our entire documentation flow is broken, and has been for the last 15 years. And I've complained about it vociferously, filed bugs, talked to managers, directors, and VPs about it, and the entire response has been that I'm a "Negative Nancy" and if I see something broken, I should fix it myself.
So here we go:
(1) PMs ask doc to add a flow to documentation. They have dev write up a quick set of step-by-step instructions. As far as I know, neither PM nor dev checks these steps because they don't have time, and that's the writer's job.
(2) The writer formats and publishes the steps verbatim, never once signing in to the application. The last time we checked, fewer than 10% of all our writers had ever accessed the application.
(3) The steps don't work as written. As curriculum developers, we write step-by-step practices that have to work, and that are extensively tested.
(4) We notify PMs and writers that their steps don't work as written. Their response is inevitably, "You're wrong."
So yep, going into a meeting with managers, directors, VPs, and PMs to do a live demo of the steps not working as written. And I have to do my utmost to bite my tongue and NOT say, "And this is standard operating procedure for our writing department."
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Yeah, "Why I Am Not A Vet".
So, as far as I could tell, Nefret ate nothing whatsoever yesterday. This morning I weighed her to see how far gone she is...
...and she's gained weight since Monday.Seems like she waits 'til I'm asleep, then gets up and binge eats.
My ancient old cat the frat boy...
Maybe she secretly nibbles on the other kitties' food?
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Hey now, hey now, *I* didn't name names.
But yes, I was very much thinking of him...
EDIT: Do you remember when I finally snapped and pointed out to him that he was currently in a house with THREE other Ph.D.s, including an M.D./Ph.D., none of whom had so much as mentioned the fact during all his visits?
Yeah, I also have 3 PhDs, they aren't mine, but I'm not giving them back.
I have a Piping hot Doner (kebab)
I wish.
To keep my water treatment and distribution certifications active I acquire PDHs on an ongoing basis.
And now we take time to ponder the differences between LDS and LSD…
Speaking of Gen X bitterness that the generations "above" us can't possibly seem to learn anything: The holiday season.
Ever since I had to empty my parents' house in 2013, I've been battling the mountain of useless crap that all families accumulate over generations. And I have been vehement and adamant with the family: Don't bring useless crap into the house. Ever. It's a waste of money, it clutters the house, and it contributes to the destruction of the environment around us.
And yet no matter how many times I ask members of the older generations to please respect our wishes, it doesn't matter. Mother-in-law saw a set of Thanksgiving crackers (the British kind) that she simply had to give us, and now the floor is littered with cheap little wind-up plastic turkeys (the cracker toys). Every day she's finding some new, useless, cutesy "thing" that we simply "must" have. And requests for her to stop fall on deaf ears. GothBard's attitude is, "It brings her joy and she won't stop, so might as well just deal with it."
And somehow, I don't find the pointless generation of clutter and waste to be something I should just have to "deal with".
Grr...
EDIT: And I think that's the one that kills me the most: "But we can't get you nothing for Christmas!"
Why not? Everyone else got what they wanted. Why can't I?
I was lost to that long ago. I try to declutter, but then I see new minis and am defeated.
Minis aren't clutter -- I have racks of them, set up in cases and displayed for use during games.
If you use it on a regular basis, even for recreation, it's not clutter.
The kids' giant case full of Nerf guns and ammo wasn't clutter 15 years ago. Now it is.
New digital only computer games on Steam/GoG/whatever-is-your-platform-of-choice are perfect solution!
A present given, and yet, no physical clutter...
New digital only computer games on Steam/GoG/whatever-is-your-platform-of-choice are perfect solution!
A present given, and yet, no physical clutter...
I tried to buy you Solasta but Steam said it wouldn't do the currency exchange.
Huh? Weird... You had no issues with buying me things in the past?!
It might be caused by regional price difference, exaggerated by exchange rate...
Hmm. Could that (trying to find a bright side) be a somewhat heartening indication that they're not tracking absolutely everything about everyone? One would think that it would be sensible to let people, wherever they are, buy stuff for their friends in their friends' local currency, since that's what the recipient would be on the line for if they bought it themselves, but.
OK, *I* might think that would be sensible, but I'm a [*redacted*, for politics].
I was lost to that long ago. I try to declutter, but then I see new minis and am defeated.Minis aren't clutter -- I have racks of them, set up in cases and displayed for use during games.
If you use it on a regular basis, even for recreation, it's not clutter.
The kids' giant case full of Nerf guns and ammo wasn't clutter 15 years ago. Now it is.
Alas, I fear I'm unlikely to ever get around to painting the miniatures I have in my collection hoard, and should probably try to find them a good home sooner rather than later. :(
Fortunately, (digital) embroidery patterns also don't take up a lot of space.
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Cyzzane has defended her dissertation. One more semester and an intership, then she will be a real doctor.Like, allowed to cut up people, allowed to cut up paintings, or perform mad science under lightning storms?
There's a difference?
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So he is Dr. Darling!Yeah, funny how the more utterly b*****t the degree, the more desperately some people want to throw that title around (cough Whingey Wizzard cough).Cyzzane has defended her dissertation. One more semester and an intership, then she will be a real doctor.Like, allowed to cut up people, allowed to cut up paintings, or perform mad science under lightning storms?The funniest part about becoming a "real" doctor is that you quickly learn that everyone who insists on being called "doctor" after the first few celebratory months is a complete so-and-so, so you end up not wanting to use the term yourself.
Outside of angry letters to global corporations, I haven't used the term "Dr. NobodysHome" in some twenty-five years now.
lisamarlene, I may pay good money to have you refer to him as Dr. Darling. Or Dr. Bombay. Whichever.
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lisamarlene, I may pay good money to have you refer to him as Dr. Darling...So he is Dr. Darling!Yeah, funny how the more utterly b*****t the degree, the more desperately some people want to throw that title around (cough Whingey Wizzard cough).Cyzzane has defended her dissertation. One more semester and an intership, then she will be a real doctor.Like, allowed to cut up people, allowed to cut up paintings, or perform mad science under lightning storms?The funniest part about becoming a "real" doctor is that you quickly learn that everyone who insists on being called "doctor" after the first few celebratory months is a complete so-and-so, so you end up not wanting to use the term yourself.
Outside of angry letters to global corporations, I haven't used the term "Dr. NobodysHome" in some twenty-five years now.
Sometimes Dr. Darling is pretty okay.
When I thanked him tonight for taking care of the kids, and the kitchen, and everything else pretty much all weekend so I could focus on my reports for school, he said, "Well, it wouldn't be the first time in our history that one person didn't have much of a weekend because the other person was having trouble writing something." (alluding to his troubled dissertation process)
Me: "Or much of a life."
Dr. Darling: "Yeah. You could do this every weekend for the rest of our lives and I still wouldn't have made it up to you."
Me: "Can I get that in writing?"
Dr. Darling: "Not a chance."
I got home tonight and Dr. Darling and Teensy Valeros were listening to bluegrass covers of Abba by Val's current favorite band, The Petersons.
And that was one of the least weird moments in my day.I really like good bluegrass. And, to my shame, I really like Abba.
But the Petersons are Stepford bluegrass. I swear they're actually animatronics.
Over halfway done.
Hermione and Dr. Darling made dinner so I could keep typing.The next door neighbors have provided entertainment. They've been taking down a big dead tree in their backyard all day with a cherry picker and chainsaws, and half an hour ago they dropped a limb the wrong direction, and ripped out the power and phone lines to their house.
Done, done, and done. Pay up, Freehold.
Ugh. Lies Of P are on 50% sale, but it does look barely playable on my integrated graphics card.
If only the card from my friend was half an inch shorter... *sigh*
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So, Clipper, the public transit fare card system where NobodysHome and I live, switched to their new 2.0 system yesterday. One of the transit agencies forcibly upgraded every college pass user who had the Clipper App on their phone to 2.0, which, as it turns out, breaks the transit pass. So a bunch of students lost their passes with no warning right in the middle of finals, and the transit agency isn't talking to the schools.
Guess who is acting manager of the department that oversees transit passes at one of the affected universities?
We have fun here.
Sue them! Sue them! Sue them!
Imagine class action lawsuit from all those students who could not properly participate in the finals...
Or maybe a lawsuit in which a student who failed his studies because of this demanding they reimburse their student debt and all expenses suffered through the studies as damages!
So, Clipper, the public transit fare card system where NobodysHome and I live, switched to their new 2.0 system yesterday. One of the transit agencies forcibly upgraded every college pass user who had the Clipper App on their phone to 2.0, which, as it turns out, breaks the transit pass. So a bunch of students lost their passes with no warning right in the middle of finals, and the transit agency isn't talking to the schools.
Guess who is acting manager of the department that oversees transit passes at one of the affected universities?
We have fun here.
Woooow...
...considering the sheer number of instructors the kids had at DVC who were of the, "If you miss the final you fail no matter the excuse" ilk, I imagine this will be catastrophic for weeks to come.Multiple people should lose their jobs over this. But they won't. Only the students will suffer. (And support staff who are there to help the students. Which is better than a lot of teachers, apparently.)
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It's pretty telling that everyone I know can tell I'm not a happy camper right now. Impus Major keeps walking by, stopping, looking at me, and giving me hugs. My manager reminds me daily that I get up to two weeks for bereavement. My online FFXIV buddy, who thinks I'm a middle-aged woman and calls me "Mom" (and yes, LM, you KNOW I Love it), checks in with me every morning to see whether I'm OK.
And it's funny; it's not so much that my mother's death is emotionally devastating me. I can tell there's some depression; my body's asking for 9-10 hours of sleep instead of its usual 6. But there is *SO* much else going on. At work, all of our jobs are uncertain and at the moment I'm working on an idiot project that never should have been assigned to me. (My manager and I finally worked it out today and it turns out that assigning it to my Indian colleague probably would have resolved the whole thing in half a day. India does payroll in a really weird way, and gee, assigning it to the native Indian might have been wiser, y'know?). My brother is utterly botching executing the estate and I need to set up appointments to try to clean things up. And the Celica needs its annual smog and oil change. While Nefret is refusing to eat.
So not so much "depressed" as "I was already near my limit and everyone started needing stuff at once".
And this, too, shall pass.
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lisamarlene, I may pay good money to have you refer to him as Dr. Darling...So he is Dr. Darling!Yeah, funny how the more utterly b*****t the degree, the more desperately some people want to throw that title around (cough Whingey Wizzard cough).Cyzzane has defended her dissertation. One more semester and an intership, then she will be a real doctor.Like, allowed to cut up people, allowed to cut up paintings, or perform mad science under lightning storms?The funniest part about becoming a "real" doctor is that you quickly learn that everyone who insists on being called "doctor" after the first few celebratory months is a complete so-and-so, so you end up not wanting to use the term yourself.
Outside of angry letters to global corporations, I haven't used the term "Dr. NobodysHome" in some twenty-five years now.
Sometimes Dr. Darling is pretty okay.
When I thanked him tonight for taking care of the kids, and the kitchen, and everything else pretty much all weekend so I could focus on my reports for school, he said, "Well, it wouldn't be the first time in our history that one person didn't have much of a weekend because the other person was having trouble writing something." (alluding to his troubled dissertation process)
Me: "Or much of a life."
Dr. Darling: "Yeah. You could do this every weekend for the rest of our lives and I still wouldn't have made it up to you."
Me: "Can I get that in writing?"
Dr. Darling: "Not a chance."
I got home tonight and Dr. Darling and Teensy Valeros were listening to bluegrass covers of Abba by Val's current favorite band, The...
[OOC]Hops into abscondicar, which takes its time starting up
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One of the hidden epidemics among rich people, especially older rich people, is hoarding.
I can't tell you how much shit they can pack in those mansions.
So yeah, definitely declutter.
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It's pretty telling that everyone I know can tell I'm not a happy camper right now. Impus Major keeps walking by, stopping, looking at me, and giving me hugs. My manager reminds me daily that I get up to two weeks for bereavement. My online FFXIV buddy, who thinks I'm a middle-aged woman and calls me "Mom" (and yes, LM, you KNOW I Love it), checks in with me every morning to see whether I'm OK.
And it's funny; it's not so much that my mother's death is emotionally devastating me. I can tell there's some depression; my body's asking for 9-10 hours of sleep instead of its usual 6. But there is *SO* much else going on. At work, all of our jobs are uncertain and at the moment I'm working on an idiot project that never should have been assigned to me. (My manager and I finally worked it out today and it turns out that assigning it to my Indian colleague probably would have resolved the whole thing in half a day. India does payroll in a really weird way, and gee, assigning it to the native Indian might have been wiser, y'know?). My brother is utterly botching executing the estate and I need to set up appointments to try to clean things up. And the Celica needs its annual smog and oil change. While Nefret is refusing to eat.
So not so much "depressed" as "I was already near my limit and everyone started needing stuff at once".
And this, too, shall pass.
I get that.
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I'm a tiny shiny shoulder faerie, my life is complete~
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After 15 days straight of working looks like I'll finally get a couple of days off.