Having a Bad Day? Stop here for a Good Rant!

[TwiLyghtSansSparkles she/her]

After my brother suggested it, I think I'm going to write a letter to the dean. That sort of thing should be unacceptable at a university level. 

 

Also, I think Bruno (one of my pugs) is sick.

[Kaymyth she/her]

My dear, beloved husband had a bout of uncharacteristic klutziness and fell off his bike.  A muscle in his foot is now injured (possibly torn).

 

We are supposed to be packing up the house and MOVING over the next four days.

 

[SmurfAquamarineBodies he/him]

My dear, beloved husband had a bout of uncharacteristic klutziness and fell off his bike.  A muscle in his foot is now injured (possibly torn).

 

We are supposed to be packing up the house and MOVING over the next four days.

 

 

coincidence, I think not.

[Kaymyth she/her]

coincidence, I think not.

 

On the bright side, it's getting better.  He is no longer limping.

[TwiLyghtSansSparkles she/her]

Why?

Why do you waltz into the service department, asking for an appointment right now, and then act irritated when no one can see you right away?

Why you do this?

[TwiLyghtSansSparkles she/her]

I'm cursed.

Every time I start a task. Every. Single. Time, I'm interrupted by a customer. Sometimes, I'll be in the middle of helping one customer in the building, only for another one to call on the phone, only for yet another to call in the middle of that call.

They must know what they're doing. They have to know.

[Briar King]

Love Bugs, winged Termites, and Wasp. Ugh spring time in Louisiana.

[Surgebound Rainspren he/him]

They must know what they're doing. They have to know.

Its all a conspiracy.

There's a team of agents outside you work from when you go on shift to when you leave.

Stay calm, do not panic. Their eyesight is poor, they can only focus on bargains. 

Stay still and count to ten...If they are still there, well its to late for you. 

[TwiLyghtSansSparkles she/her]

Now I'm looking at library jobs. 

 

 

What I wouldn't give to have someone just walk up to me and say "Hi, I have a public library job that's perfect for you. Care to interview for it?" 

[Kobold King he/him]

Now I'm looking at library jobs. 

 

 

What I wouldn't give to have someone just walk up to me and say "Hi, I have a public library job that's perfect for you. Care to interview for it?" 

 

This isn't much of an immediate consolation, but I'm still praying that you find a wonderful employment in a place ideally suited to your many talents.

[TwiLyghtSansSparkles she/her]

This isn't much of an immediate consolation, but I'm still praying that you find a wonderful employment in a place ideally suited to your many talents.

Thanks. I hate applying for jobs. Every time I finish and address an application, I put it in the mailbox thinking "Well, that's another job I'm not going to get."

[Kobold King he/him]

Thanks. I hate applying for jobs. Every time I finish and address an application, I put it in the mailbox thinking "Well, that's another job I'm not going to get."

 

Speak life. God has a plan for us all, and I'm sure that He's just waiting for the perfect time to send you out in the world. Don't think of yourself as a Pawn that sits still because it's useless to the game--you're a Queen, too vital to move until the perfect time presents itself. You'll be put into motion when you're needed most, and the game could depend on you being in just the place God wants you.

 

So try to bear that in mind when an application isn't right for you. I refuse to believe you're anything but the winning move, and you'll be shown where you're supposed to go when the time is right.

[Kaymyth she/her]

Alright, children, gather 'round.  Auntie Kaymyth is going to tell you a story!

 

So, as a little bit of background, my husband and I just moved.  Many of you know this already.  We also live in the American Midwest, and for those of you not familiar with the region's weather, it is spring.  Spring brings lots and lots of storms.  Luckily, I love storms, and am not particularly bothered by living in Tornado Alley.  (Hey, that's what basements are for.)

 

I purchased a new shed structure from the Home Despot in order to house things like our lawnmower; I ordered online and got the Deliver to Store option.  We had a few other things we needed to pick up for the new house, so we headed out to get dinner, some stuff for the dog, and make the Home Depot run.  We currently have my parents-in-law's pickup truck, which is fortunate, because there was no way in the nine hells that the shed-thing was going to cram into either of our cars.

 

So we note as we head out that it is looking quite cloudy.  We get a little way down the road and go, "Oh, we didn't bring an umbrella!  Haha, that means it's going to rain on us.  Darnit."

 

When we come out of dinner, it has indeed begun to rain.  But hey, it's not raining that hard.  It continues at light rain level as we go to the pet store and get food for the fluffy dachshund creature.  So, not bad.  Quite refreshing, really.  And then we get to the Despot.

 

I'm sure you think you can see where this is going.  Trust me, it's worse.  Or better, if you're looking at it from a storytelling perspective.

 

So, we do our shopping, and then go to the counter to pick up the shed.  The guy wheels it out on a dolly.  Even disassembled and packaged, it's a rather impressively-sized box.  Naturally, there is no employee offer to help us load it into our vehicle, so we push it on out there ourselves.  The rain has, at this point, picked up in enthusiasm.  Not a downpour, but definitely a steady rain.  So we open up the pickup bed cover, and lo, we discover that we had forgotten to unload the stepping stones that we had transported from old house to new.  Oops.  Well, this makes things interesting.  So we move them from being stacked and in the way to being flatter and still kind of in the way, but less so.

 

A kind bystander happens by and offers to assist James (my aforementioned husband) in loading the giant box of sheddy doom into the pickup.  (Whoever you are, kindly man, may whatever god(s) you follow shower blessings upon you.)  This is muchly appreciated, and we thank him as he takes his leave, but now we have the shed box standing on its side in the bed blocking the driver's side rear window.  I opine that perhaps it would be a good idea to try and lay it down on its side.  James expresses doubt that it will fit.  I point out that if we don't, it's liable to fall over anyway, so we rearrange the stepping stones some more, and after some false starts, manage to lean it over on its side.

 

(For the record, no, it didn't fit widthwise.  But it almost did, and that was close enough.)

 

But then we discover a new problem; the shed box is actually a half inch too LONG for the truck bed, and we can't get the tailgate closed.  We push, and we shove, and we push some more, but it just won't latch.  Finally, I have James lift one side of the box up juuust enough that I can get one side of the tailgate clicked into place, and call it good.  After all, home isn't far.

 

So we close the truck bed cover as best we can, climb into the cab and out of the rain, and drive home.  And it is upon our arrival home, my dears, that things get REALLY interesting.

 

Our plan is to lug the thing around the house and to the back door, where we have a walk-out basement.  We soon discover that I do not have sufficient upper body strength to help James lever the blasted thing out of the truck, let alone around help him carry it halfway around the house.  So I get the bright idea of, hey, let's try using the wheelbarrow!  So off we go, trundling the wheelbarrow through the (still steady) rain.  We're both thoroughly bedraggled by now, and neither of us had the sense to change out of our work clothes.  I hold the wheelbarrow at the end of the truck, and he starts trying to shove the box over the edge and into the barrow.

 

It is soon very, very obvious that the box is both too big and too heavy for this plan to ever work in Earth gravity.

 

We realize, downheartedly, that we cannot possibly get the box to the back door ourselves.  The garage is too small to house it and our cars and still leave room for us to get into said cars.  I helpfully suggest knocking on the next-door neighbor's door to beg for help.  James, being the dear, stubborn soul that he is, wants no part of this plan.

 

And the comes his stroke of genius:  Just open the gorramed thing and carry the pieces downstairs.  It's molded plastic and hardware.  Easy peasy!  My contribution of genius is to drag the thing just far enough into the garage that we can open it up out of the rain.  This turns out to be an excellent plan, for just as we are about to shove it the final way into the garage, the sky opens up into full out DOWNPOUR.

 

The box is fairly easy to open.  It's true, they used that industrial glue that's actually stronger than the cardboard it holds together, but the entire box was weakened by getting thoroughly soaked.  We open it up, haul the pieces downstairs, and proclaim Victory.

 

I then go to get the rest of our stuff out of the backseat of the (extended cab) pickup.  As I am gathering up the bags and picking up things that fell out, I happen to glance down.  And there I see, in all of its glory...

 

...wait for it...

 

...an umbrella.

 

 

 

I then proceed to completely lose my ^$%# laughing hysterically.

[mail-mi he/him]

 

Speak life. God has a plan for us all, and I'm sure that He's just waiting for the perfect time to send you out in the world. Don't think of yourself as a Pawn that sits still because it's useless to the game--you're a Queen, too vital to move until the perfect time presents itself. You'll be put into motion when you're needed most, and the game could depend on you being in just the place God wants you.

 

So try to bear that in mind when an application isn't right for you. I refuse to believe you're anything but the winning move, and you'll be shown where you're supposed to go when the time is right. 

 

Kobold, I think you'd love the poem my dad wrote about God and Satan playing a chess game:

 

The Chess Game, by [REDACTED]:

 

Imagine now a chess game played for an eternal prize,

With white controlled by Father, God; black by the Lord of Lies

 

The strategy our Father had was strange, you might agree.

His hands were lifted off the board; his pieces would be free.

 

His pawns were given freedom and His players given choice; 

And if they chose to call to Him, He'd guide them with his voice.

 

The devil, fighting fiercely, forced his followers with fear.

He set his traps quite subtly, but his motives were quite clear. 

 

"I'll capture all your pieces, fool! I'll win this senseless game!

Your wisdom will then cease to be. Creation dies in shame!" 

 

The game's start time has come to pass. The pieces start to move.

A white knight jumped out quickly; he had something he would prove.

 

"Don't worry Father, I'll be back," he called behind his horse,

But horse's hooves drowned out God's call, "No, take a diff'rent course."

 

The devil saw the knight advance and set his traps quite well.

"His pride will bring him to me and I'll cast him down to hell!" 

 

Grim Satan's eyes were filled with lust, lips curved with sick intent

He caught the knight in shining white. To Sheol his soul was sent. 

 

The pawns, advancing one by one, went straight with cautious care.

But one by one they made mistakes and fell to Satan's snare.

 

The rook took the straight path in life, his battle nobly fought.

A bolder life one never lived, but still he too was caught.

 

With grace and charity the queen stepped out to aid the cause;

But she, too, took a stumble, and was snatched by Satan's claws.

 

White bishops, God's true holy men, were aided in the fight.

They called to God in fervent prayer, were guided by His light.

 

Sick Satan stared so selfishly, just watching cleverly.

The bishops made one small mistake, and trapped they'd ever be.

 

You see, it only took one slip. Just one mistake. One sin.

And each white piece was lost to God. The devil had to grin. 

 

"You fool," he laughed across the board. "You're losing, can't you tell.

You see I've got your pieces, yes, I've got them all in hell!

 

"I told you 'fore the game began, 'Don't let your souls go free!

Just force them to your presence, yes force them to follow me!'

 

"I could have borne your glory, God. I could have been the One.

I could have brought them all back home. I could have been your Son!"  

 

Around God's neck there hung a chain of gold and steel combined.

It made him look quite dignified. It made him look refined.

 

A medal hanging from that chain that had God by the throat.

Contained a word that Satan knew, and he began to gloat. 

 

"That trophy 'round your neck, my foe, it makes you what you are. 

But, 'JUSTICE,' etched on your medal, has bound you in so far.

 

"You cannot save your children now, for all their sins you know.

That chain around your neck will grant the vict'ry to your foe!" 

 

God simply stated clearly that the game was not yet done.

He still had one more piece. It was His King, His only Son.

 

The white King stood by God alone then began to advance.

The Devil licked his lips and stared like he was in a trance 

 

"If I can get this King," he thought, "the vict'ry will be mine. 

I'll crush the Rock of Hope he has. I'll snip the One True Vine." 

 

He set his pieces moving, and he tried to catch the King

But found that trapping this One was not an easy thing.

 

For ev'ry step the King took was dictated from above,

And ev'ry square He stood upon was brightened by His love.

 

When Satan saw his traps all fail, he couldn't call "check mate."

His hatred boiled up inside. The Jailor got irate. 

 

He hated God. He hated man. He hated everything.

But what he hated most of all was that one last white King.

 

Then suddenly, a silence fell. The time had been fulfilled.

For God to turn the game around and do things as He willed. 

 

"He's yours," God said to Satan, "With their sins laid to His charge." 

And Satan's muscles tensed and then his eyes got very large.

 

He snatched the King up quickly, and he shook it violently. 

God sat still. Tears poured down his face. He watched it silently. 

 

The King cried out in pain from all the twisting He received.

Administered by Satan's hate, the pain was not relieved. 

 

When Satan wrought upon the King the pain just He could bear,

He put the bleeding, stained white King back on the checkered square. 

 

Black bishops found the suff'ring Lord with a betrayer's kiss

They spat on Him and slapped Him, and their trial ran amiss. 

 

"Sin! Blasphemy! and Death!" they cried, and greed was in their eyes.

They took Him to their magistrate and told him all their lies.

 

The black king met the white King and was trapped in a stalemate.

He sent Him to the people and let them all debate. 

 

He promised the black bishops that he'd let the pawns decide.

The black pawns cried with one accord "Let Him be crucified!" 

 

Black knights took the white King and they whipped Him 'til He bled.

The placed upon His blood striped back a robe all colored red.

 

Black castles drove nails through His palms, His wrists, and through His feet. 

Black bishops came to mock him, sure that he had met defeat. 

 

His life the white King never gave until it was God's time.

To go into the spirit world and leave the board behind.

 

But after thee days absence, he stepped back down on the board.

A medal on a chain of gold and steel He wore as His reward.

 

His new medallion had a word--a word that all could see.

He held the medal high aloft. Th'inscription read, "MERCY." 

 

The King called forth the pris'ners, brought them back into the game.

They flocked to His new ensign and they took on them His name.

 

The devil's hosts began to shake. The white pawns all returned.

And at a word from the white King, all the black pieces burned.

 

And Satan stared, pale, horror-struck. His kingdom turned to ash.

His earthly domain vanished in a single brilliant flash.  

 

Then all his power left him cold; no force behind his hate.

He wallowed in his misery. The Good Lord called, "check mate." 

 

And thus the game will end one day, and Satan's plan will fail.

The white King and His followers and God will all prevail. 

[connormce10 he/him]

[THIS POST HAS BEEN REDACTED FOR FOUL LANGUAGE]

[Delightful]

Alright, children, gather 'round. Auntie Kaymyth is going to tell you a story!

So, as a little bit of background, my husband and I just moved. Many of you know this already. We also live in the American Midwest, and for those of you not familiar with the region's weather, it is spring. Spring brings lots and lots of storms. Luckily, I love storms, and am not particularly bothered by living in Tornado Alley. (Hey, that's what basements are for.)

I purchased a new shed structure from the Home Despot in order to house things like our lawnmower; I ordered online and got the Deliver to Store option. We had a few other things we needed to pick up for the new house, so we headed out to get dinner, some stuff for the dog, and make the Home Depot run. We currently have my parents-in-law's pickup truck, which is fortunate, because there was no way in the nine hells that the shed-thing was going to cram into either of our cars.

So we note as we head out that it is looking quite cloudy. We get a little way down the road and go, "Oh, we didn't bring an umbrella! Haha, that means it's going to rain on us. Darnit."

When we come out of dinner, it has indeed begun to rain. But hey, it's not raining that hard. It continues at light rain level as we go to the pet store and get food for the fluffy dachshund creature. So, not bad. Quite refreshing, really. And then we get to the Despot.

I'm sure you think you can see where this is going. Trust me, it's worse. Or better, if you're looking at it from a storytelling perspective.

So, we do our shopping, and then go to the counter to pick up the shed. The guy wheels it out on a dolly. Even disassembled and packaged, it's a rather impressively-sized box. Naturally, there is no employee offer to help us load it into our vehicle, so we push it on out there ourselves. The rain has, at this point, picked up in enthusiasm. Not a downpour, but definitely a steady rain. So we open up the pickup bed cover, and lo, we discover that we had forgotten to unload the stepping stones that we had transported from old house to new. Oops. Well, this makes things interesting. So we move them from being stacked and in the way to being flatter and still kind of in the way, but less so.

A kind bystander happens by and offers to assist James (my aforementioned husband) in loading the giant box of sheddy doom into the pickup. (Whoever you are, kindly man, may whatever god(s) you follow shower blessings upon you.) This is muchly appreciated, and we thank him as he takes his leave, but now we have the shed box standing on its side in the bed blocking the driver's side rear window. I opine that perhaps it would be a good idea to try and lay it down on its side. James expresses doubt that it will fit. I point out that if we don't, it's liable to fall over anyway, so we rearrange the stepping stones some more, and after some false starts, manage to lean it over on its side.

(For the record, no, it didn't fit widthwise. But it almost did, and that was close enough.)

But then we discover a new problem; the shed box is actually a half inch too LONG for the truck bed, and we can't get the tailgate closed. We push, and we shove, and we push some more, but it just won't latch. Finally, I have James lift one side of the box up juuust enough that I can get one side of the tailgate clicked into place, and call it good. After all, home isn't far.

So we close the truck bed cover as best we can, climb into the cab and out of the rain, and drive home. And it is upon our arrival home, my dears, that things get REALLY interesting.

Our plan is to lug the thing around the house and to the back door, where we have a walk-out basement. We soon discover that I do not have sufficient upper body strength to help James lever the blasted thing out of the truck, let alone around help him carry it halfway around the house. So I get the bright idea of, hey, let's try using the wheelbarrow! So off we go, trundling the wheelbarrow through the (still steady) rain. We're both thoroughly bedraggled by now, and neither of us had the sense to change out of our work clothes. I hold the wheelbarrow at the end of the truck, and he starts trying to shove the box over the edge and into the barrow.

It is soon very, very obvious that the box is both too big and too heavy for this plan to ever work in Earth gravity.

We realize, downheartedly, that we cannot possibly get the box to the back door ourselves. The garage is too small to house it and our cars and still leave room for us to get into said cars. I helpfully suggest knocking on the next-door neighbor's door to beg for help. James, being the dear, stubborn soul that he is, wants no part of this plan.

And the comes his stroke of genius: Just open the gorramed thing and carry the pieces downstairs. It's molded plastic and hardware. Easy peasy! My contribution of genius is to drag the thing just far enough into the garage that we can open it up out of the rain. This turns out to be an excellent plan, for just as we are about to shove it the final way into the garage, the sky opens up into full out DOWNPOUR.

The box is fairly easy to open. It's true, they used that industrial glue that's actually stronger than the cardboard it holds together, but the entire box was weakened by getting thoroughly soaked. We open it up, haul the pieces downstairs, and proclaim Victory.

I then go to get the rest of our stuff out of the backseat of the (extended cab) pickup. As I am gathering up the bags and picking up things that fell out, I happen to glance down. And there I see, in all of its glory...

...wait for it...

...an umbrella.

I then proceed to completely lose my ^$%# laughing hysterically.

I'm not sure if this will make you feel better or worse but I'm hoping for better - surely you couldn't have held up an umbrella anyway, what with needing to hands to lug furniture around?

I hope you went inside and made yourselves hot chocolate and warm after all that. I'm sorry you had to be so cold and wet and miserable .

[Kaymyth she/her]

I'm not sure if this will make you feel better or worse but I'm hoping for better - surely you couldn't have held up an umbrella anyway, what with needing to hands to lug furniture around?

I hope you went inside and made yourselves hot chocolate and warm after all that. I'm sorry you had to be so cold and wet and miserable .

 

You're quite right.  It wouldn't have done us a lick of good while we were wrestling with the Stupidly Huge Box .  But,

 

A )  It's the (funny) principle of the thing.

B )  My husband and I have a long-running joke that remembering to take an umbrella will, in fact, prevent it from raining.  I believe that this might even be a corollary of Murphy's Law:  if you forget an umbrella, it is guaranteed to rain.  We have now updated that corollary to say that having an umbrella along only provides a rain prevention effect if you know it's there.

 

And fortunately, while we were indeed thoroughly soaked to the skin, it wasn't actually that cold.  I went inside, changed into dry clothes, and promptly had an ice cream bar.

Edited May 8, 2015 by Kaymyth

[+Slowswift]

[THIS POST HAS BEEN REDACTED FOR FOUL LANGUAGE]

 

That kinda day, huh? Sorry.

 

For me, either I've got a chronic cold or I have allergies. I really hope it's not allergies, because we just got two cats.

 

*sigh*

Edited May 9, 2015 by Slowswift

[Sarcasm she/her]

Ugh. I swear,we're having a weeping in Colorado. It's been pouring for about 5 days straight, and you can't even go outside without being drenched in the downpour...And even as i type this, I'm standing in the freezing rain during an hour long wait for a restaurant because of mothers day...

Edited May 9, 2015 by Sarcasm

[TwiLyghtSansSparkles she/her]

Ugh. I swear,we're having a weeping in Colorado. It's been pouring for about 5 days straight, and you can't even go outside without being drenched in the downpour...And even as i type this, I'm standing in the freezing rain during an hour long wait for a restaurant because of mothers day...

 

I'm sorry. We get highstorms here in Arizona, which are actually pretty cool. They don't last as long as those in WoK, though; I think the longest monsoon I've seen was about 10 minutes. Are you going out for Mother's Day early? 

[Sarcasm she/her]

Actually, it's for an early celebration of my birthday though the restaurant is jammed with early mothers day celebrants... Its already been an hour and a half, and i think i have frostbite.

[TwiLyghtSansSparkles she/her]

Actually, it's for an early celebration of my birthday though the restaurant is jammed with early mothers day celebrants... Its already been an hour and a half, and i think i have frostbite.

 

Happy early birthday, then. I remember those waits in the cold, though—both from waiting in line and managing the restaurant's wait list. The staff is doing everything they can to get you a table within your quote time, if that helps. And if it goes over your quoted time, it's probably because there's one couple who asked for "a big booth," meaning they requested a six-person booth for two people, and they're already finished with their meal but they won't take their lovey-dovey conversation (or domestic argument, depending on what type of couple they are) elsewhere. 

 

….

 

There are things I miss about working in a restaurant, but campers are not one of them.  

[Sarcasm she/her]

Woah. Phones being really stupid ( probably waterlogged)And posting like fifty times...sorry about the quadruple posts...

Edited May 10, 2015 by Sarcasm

[Briar King]

I'd take freezing rain any day over the muggy rain I get.

[Kestrel she/her]

My mom keeps passive aggressively trying to get me to drive by picking me up from parties an hour earlier without texting me beforehand (because I could totally get a ride but noooo) and then saying "this would be easier if you had a car !!!"

Bye.