Yet Another Stupid Facebook Post
Not my sister-in-law, though. Someone I know. Here’s what she’s got to say, nothing changed except some details redacted.
To my special daughter at [redacted] high school n dual enroll in [college name redacted]. She has bere n national honor society went to convention. They the big trophy they never had. One more subject she could go to college as a soph. {Name redacted] having to put up with me already crying cause she be leaving next year. Please god keep your angel around my two children. U helped me raise them. N my daughter happy birthday soon sept6 26
This is a grown person, mind you. I can’t even figure out what she’s trying to say.
Jeez.
Update: Get this. I just found another one.
I have a wonderful son that is a teacher at [redacted] high school. Coaching football go red devils n bell st. Then he starts basketball coach n then off to soccer. I know what the school. Got they should be blessed. He is there for those kids. Going to funeral. To going to hospital. Josh son I couldn’t be happier. Lol u took afer your mon I coach soccer baseball n soccer n took care of kids at [redacted] home i
Huh?
Found by way of Instapundit.
It’s under discussion, anyway. Here was my first thought: Which dorm would you rather live in? The one with the folks with concealed weapons permits and weapons? Or the dorm with the folks without concealed weapons permits or weapons? And if you were a bad person intent on mayhem, which one would you pick to attack?
A Question
If you murdered someone during a hot flash, could you be found not guilty due to temporary insanity? Given that during a hot flash you can’t even freakin’ think straight?!
No new territory here, but are hot flashes some sort of divine vengeance for that whole Eve-and-the-apple thing? None of us were there, we didn’t even get a vote. How is this even fair?
If someone ever comes up with a treatment that doesn’t involve the considerable risk of an even worse health issue, they’ll make millions.
Insert frustrated shriek here.
Jean-Paul Sartre Was Right
Hell is other people.
Okay, maybe he said it. Maybe he didn’t. It’s still true.
Events supporting this assertion of late follow, in no particular order. Warning: If pointless grousing annoys you, click away immediately.
1. A tenant calls, attitude dripping from his voice. The air conditioning isn’t working, he says. It’s miserably hot in the apartment, he says. If the a/c isn’t working, I believe it’s miserably hot in the apartment. It’s miserably hot outside, too, and where he lives you do not want to leave your windows open, even when you’re home. I asked him how long the a/c has been out. A week, he says. You read that right — it’s been hot as all get-out, his a/c died a week ago, and he waits until Friday afternoon a week later to let us know. Is it going to be fixed today, he wants to know. Not bloody likely, I think, but don’t say. I did tell him that if he’d notified us a week ago, for certain by now it would be fixed. Unfortunately for him, the owner of that apartment group has a warranty with a company not to be named, as I have nothing good to say about their service. So he’s probably going to swelter in his apartment for another week, if he’s lucky and the warranty company doesn’t have to order any replacement parts from the moon, which is where the previous job’s replacement parts had to be ordered from, judging from the time it took for them to arrive. And to think if only he’d let us know when the problem occurred, instead of waiting for the air conditioning system to somehow magically repair itself. Which in my experience almost never happens.
2. We’re holding a rental house for a woman moving here from out of state. She brought by her security deposit and pro-rated rent checks, which we held until the 8th, the date on the checks. She’s supposed to be in on the 13th (today) to sign the lease. She called week before last, wanted to know if we can give the key to the house to a friend of hers who is helping her move. He would be here August 6th. No, she won’t be in to sign the lease before then, but can he get the key so he can put her things in the house? Well, let’s consider that request. We had post-dated checks which may or may not clear (haven’t heard anything yet, but the week is young). We have no enforceable agreement with her, so if she moves in and then destroys the place, refuses to leave, refuses to pay any more rent, whatever, we have no legal recourse. Give her friend a key to one of our properties without a signed lease or certainty of payment? What a great idea! Sarcasm aside, I explained to her we couldn’t do that. She wondered what she was going to do, paused, maybe waited for me to rescue her from her dilemma. I didn’t. I suppose she’ll call back when she gets it sorted out. Or not. She may have already sorted it out with the rental folks.
3. I fielded a phone call from a remarkably unpleasant woman who lives in a subdivision where two of our rental properties are located. One of them is now vacant, as the corporation we rented it to, who filled it with several of their subcontractors, has experienced a slowdown in work and is moving their guys to other places. The guys living there apparently unnerved the neighbors, and according to her words the biggest problem was their ethnicity. She made a point of mentioning it, several times. Apparently it was very important to her. Also that they drank. And there’s trash everywhere, a computer chair sitting out front, the grass is too long, it looks terrible. Another neighbor went over of his own volition and mowed the yard once, but it needs to be done again. And this house is, all by itself, lowering property values in the entire subdivision. It should be stated that it hasn’t been vacant long, the guys who were in the house left without telling us they were leaving, and they left food and trash in the house. This neighbor has no idea what the inside of the house looks like, but it’s worse than the outside (I didn’t tell her, no need to stir that pot). And we have people scheduled to go there and take care of everything before it rents again, or sells. While she was snarking about people’s cultural backgrounds she interrupted herself to announce someone had just arrived and she was going to go talk to her. “Good idea,” I said before thinking. I’m not sure she noticed my tone. But she did buttonhole our rental management person, who just now explained to me how nice this woman was to talk to in person, also. Yes, there’s a bit of sarcasm there also. People are amazing.
4. One of our tenants is extremely late with July’s rent. She’s been meaning to drop money orders into our drop box for some days now. Then she said she’d mailed them, is baffled that they haven’t yet shown up yet. She really does seem to think we’re idiots. If the payment doesn’t show up by close of business today, she’ll probably end up dealing with the sheriff’s department. In the meantime, she’s tap dancing as fast as she can. I don’t understand the thought process people go through to determine paying rent is optional, but it seems a common activity for some folks.
5. A woman called and asked for information about two of our rental properties. She wants to know if they have wood panelling. I have no idea. I said so. I told her she could sign out keys and go look at them, see if they’d suit her. This is what I recommend anyway — there’s no way to be sure a house will suit you unless you see it, or have someone you trust see it for you. She was a bit miffed. Here’s the thing, though — they’re rentals. If the walls are covered end to end with wood panelling, and she’s not buying the place, why is that a showstopper? My husband and I rented for many years, most of it in Germany, and if you never experienced German tastes in wallpaper in the 80’s, you’ve really missed out. A columnist for the Stars and Stripes newspaper once described the wallpaper in his house as Howling Mouths From Outer Space, and I think we had that in one of the houses we rented too. What the heck does the wallcovering in a rental property matter?
6. Owners are fun too. We’ve got a rental in a subdivision near the Air Force base that is owned by an Army officer who is being transferred elsewhere. He and his wife are getting a divorce, which is always a bonus in a transaction. She signed the paperwork for the management agreement without any qualms, and I know this because I was there. Weeks later she announces that she’s decided not to move, comes back from whereever she’d gone in the interim and parks herself in the house. We’ve already got a tenant who has already paid her security deposit. Eventually it got sorted out — her chief complaint was that her soon-to-be ex-husband wasn’t telling her what was going on, and the tenant is moving in Wednesday. But we did get another call from the soon-to-be ex-wife with a load of questions, all of which were covered in the management agreement. Maybe she didn’t have a copy. Or maybe she didn’t want to take the time to read it. Well, she can call us and ask. We love answering questions that people can address by just reading the stuff we give them.
7. We have tenants who recently moved into one of our rentals which can only be described as craptacular. In a neighborhood not the worst in the area, but not the best either. Their rent reflects the situation — $500 a month. Their complaints have settled down in recent weeks, but for awhile there they were making daily demands that involved upgrades to the house, new appliances, yard work, and other issues. The no-kidding maintenance problems we took care of, because we have to. Unfortunately our rental person (not a property manager, she doesn’t have a license) got a bit confused about which faucet was leaking and our maintenance guy went over to check the problem and said there wasn’t one. I sometimes wish I had a staff of people on call to take care of my every whim, too. Guess I should have married Donald Trump. And so should she.
*sigh* That’s all. Just griping. Thanks for listening — assuming you haven’t already clicked away, say, to this, which is much more cheery. Wouldn’t it be great to be able to spend $1,000 on a pair of shoes without it totally destroying your budget for the next year? I’ll never know.
She’s my hero. Go read the whole thing.
I Piss People Off, Just Because I Can
I never learned to suffer fools gladly. I’m never going to, it’s too late.
I went to Chick-fil-A yesterday. Not because I’m opposed to gay marriage; I’m in favor of it. If gays want to get married, great. Let ’em. Gays getting married threatens no one. Marriage is a stabilizing influence in our society. A household with two grown ups who are committed to each other is less likely to be poor, less likely to engage in destructive behavior, more likely to raise their kids as decent people. Not guaranteed, now. That’s not what I said. But more likely to.
A Facebook “friend”, whom I’ve mentioned before, a few times, regarding her idiotic Facebook commentary, posted a fairly long whinge about the Chick-fil-A Appreciation Day yesterday. She was upset that so many people would show up to support a company that discriminates against gays. She stated that — Oh, fooey, let me just post a screen shot of her diatribe, which she says she lifted from elsewhere. Can’t even come up with her own silly speeches. Click to embiggen.
Note the snippy commentary about the clientele. Her friends are too good for most of us, and no surprise there. As I’ve mentioned before, her husband is probably the richest guy in town. She’s in a social stratum I will never reach. And I’m glad — they all seem to be jerks. But I digress.
Last evening I posted my own commentary on the Chick-fil-A day. Here it is:
She may have recognized herself in my comments. Anyway, today she had this to say. Note my comment below, and her response.
Can you hear the sneer? It’s there, trust me.
Poor thing. Her life is so hard.
And me, I sent a letter to the editor of the local paper today because they had a photo of the crowd at the local Chick-fil-A yesterday in today’s edition, and in the caption it indicated we were all there because we’re against gay marriage. I guess they should have, you know, asked a few of us why we were there, rather than assuming. Too much like work, maybe.
Watermelons, Escaping
If you haven’t bookmarked Look! A Baby Wolf! yet, you need to. Go read this. Put your drink down first.
How is it no one’s offered LeeAnn a book deal yet?
In the Category of “Things That Suck”
You can include finding out your mother has cancer. Granted, it’s basal cell carcinoma, which is rarely fatal. Usually just (just?) disfiguring. She’s known for awhile, there are 3 spots on her face. She was scheduled for surgery, she tells me, but cancelled it because her back hurt, or something. Her doctor is after her to get it scheduled again. She says she’s 88 years old and “what difference does it make?”
I think maybe my expression may have yanked her up a bit. At first I couldn’t think of anything to say. Then I told her it mattered to us. Me, my brother and sister. Her brother and her sister-in-law. Her sisters. Her grandchildren. It matters to us.
So she says she’s going to call the plastic surgeon and make another appointment.
I know, on the list of things you can find out this isn’t the worst.
But it sucks.
She swore me to secrecy, told me not to tell my brother or sister. She didn’t say anything about you guys. She doesn’t know about you guys. And my brother and sister aren’t readers of this blog, in large part because they don’t know about it either.
I’m out of words at the moment. Good night.
Update to Add: Aaaaaand then my uncle tells me her doctor sent 3 letters when she cancelled the procedure. Last one certified mail. It said if she didn’t have the surgery, this will kill her. I can’t tell her what to do, but I wonder if she’s thought through what dying of skin cancer that starts on your face will entail. I very nearly told my brother today. I know I told her I wouldn’t tell him or our sister. And I don’t lightly break promises. Maybe this time I have to. Not that her brother isn’t all over her about this, and it hasn’t done any good.
Any positive vibes, thoughts, and/or prayers you might send her way are appreciated. Her name is Betty, and God knows who she is.
Medical Update
I just realized I forgot to tell you what I found out about the stress test results. And I know you’ve been on tenterhooks waiting to find out.
Normal. Normal, normal, normal. My aortic valve has developed calcifications but is still functioning normally. My heart is also surrounded by fluid, although it’s a very thin layer, he said about one molecule thick, and it’s not interfering with anything.
So my heart is fine. He’s got me on Pepcid (over the counter), said take it for a month and then call him to let him know if it’s working. If it doesn’t work he’s going to prescribe something stronger. And he wants to see me again in a year, which I’ll have to work out with Tricare.
But whatever’s going on, it’s not my heart. Which is something of a relief.
Dig this — I went to Wal Mart to get Pepcid, couldn’t find any. Asked Hubby about it. He says Pepcid is used to make meth. So I can’t buy sinus headache medicine and I can’t buy Pepcid, at least not without it being a royal PITA, because cretinous drug dealers are using those products to make meth. And the rest of us law abiding citizens with health issues have to deal with the consequences. It annoys the hell out of me that I can’t just buy what I need to keep my head from exploding, or my chest from hurting. Feh.
Your Job Is Wonderful
Leeann has done it again. Over at Look! A Baby Wolf! she shares with us a work experience that no one, and I mean no one, should ever have to endure.
Gawdamighty. I don’t know which is my favorite part — when Leeann’s eyebrows try to crawl off her face, or when the customer retrieves her fundage to pay for her purchase. And by “favorite” I don’t necessarily mean “enjoyable”. Just impressive wordage. Seriously.
I can’t find any brain bleach. My mother doesn’t seem to have any.
Follow the title link. Go read. Put your drink down first. Prepare to have your imagination piqued. Also horrified.


