Category Archives: hell (other people)

use your goddamn turnsignals

Traffic is a mess thanks to detours and checkpoints, but some things are getting back to normal.

SUV drivers seem to have gotten the memo advising them to drive like the black hearted bastards that (many of them) are. Tailgating and other random small-car intimidation tactics are back in fashion (and not a moment too soon!) possibly even reaching a more advanced level of psychosis than before. Hooray!

I wrote a poem about using your turn signals, but now I can’t find it. It’s called “Use your goddamn turnsignals.” Maybe I’ll post it later.

Or maybe I’ll go home and fix a nice big martini. Gin, of course. Do not get me started on the gin versus vodka thing. Oh, I don’t know why I should talk. Let’s face it, I’m only in it for the olives.

the breeders, redux

A quick note to a Systems Administrator can indeed reduce a problem to a minor annoyance. My New friend Kate, another stranger being inundated with mail from the Breeders and Friends, finally took matters into our own hands. For those who felt my note here about this problem was mean, I must ask if it would have been more polite to identify them and truly humiliate them, or to forward these messages around? I thought those 2 options were mean. Being annoyed that my mail was bouncing to the moon thanks to Idiots seems to be within my purview as owner of the site.

Back to Kate. We were both rather fascinated by the battle being waged among the celebrants. The men thought episiotomies were grand, the women thought they were barbaric. Coincidence? Kate sent me this link, for your dining and dancing enjoyment:
Obstetric Myths Versus Research Realities: A Guide to the Medical Literature

Please. Stop. Now.

Ms. Skarlet is being spammed. Ms. Skarlet is trying to be nice about this. It isn’t working. Since I still have a shred of decency left I’m not going to (completely) humiliate the guilty parties, but I simply must rant and rave a little bit.

At 5:22 p.m. on Monday Mr. and Mrs. Computer Illiterate gave birth to twins. I don’t know this couple. I do know that they took pictures with their nifty digital camera of the birth and the baby. Lots and lots of digital pictures. Lots and lots of pictures of Mrs. Computer Illiterate getting her epidural. Lots and lots of pictures of Mrs. Computer Illiterate getting her episiotomy since she couldn’t push, thanks to the epidural. Lots and lots of pictures of little D. (4 pounds, 7 ounces) and little P. (4 pounds, 5 ounces) looking nasty and gooey as they were hauled out into the big bad world by the big bad doctor’s forceps.

How do I know all this? Because at 5:42 p.m. on Monday, Mr. Computer Illiterate started emailing out all those pictures to all their “friends.” I’m not your friend, pal. I emailed Mr. Computer Illiterate to stop after the 42nd attachment-heavy message landed in my box. He politely responded by sending them all AGAIN. This guy’s email sig ID’s him as a lawyer so he must have some modicum of intelligence, right? Never mind, don’t answer that one. Let’s just move on.

It’s not that I didn’t get them pal, it’s that I didn’t WANT them. Fortunately, I didn’t download them, but I kept the image index you sent because it was amazing. (More on that in a moment.)

I’m not even going to get started on this whole showing me the birth thing. Or the sharing the baby pictures thing.* What bugs me is that you didn’t check the addresses before you sent this stuff out. I want to see your wife spread-eagle on that table (in the most unnatural position possible for childbirth) like I wanted a hole in the head.

I think these people must have been planning ahead for their lawsuit. Here are some of the captions from the image index Mr. Computer Illiterate sent out:
“(name deleted) begs the nurse not to administer an epedural.” (sic)
“You have to cut where? Sorry honey that’s going to hurt!”
“Hear (sic) come the forceps!”
“The fruits (sic) of my loins, picture 1”
etc.

You filled my mailbox with junk, probably causing my actual mail to bounce. You filled my mailbox with gross junk. Your incredibly stupid friends have been hitting “reply all” all damn day, continuing to fill my mailbox with junk. But none of this actually matters to me.

What matters to me is that you named your kids after a pair of TV characters. Are you people on drugs? Well, yes, according to the picture captions at least she is, but that’s no excuse. You proudly announced to the world in an email that you chose these names because you conceived these babies while watching a show for teenagers. I am fully aware that I do things others would consider crazy, but come on folks…

What’s the lesson here today? Think before you email. Think before you hit “reply all.” Think before you name your children after TV characters. Thank you very much, and have a nice day.

*Tip: One picture will suffice – make it a small one, all babies look alike.

update: I give neither hoot nor holler
Now the Breeder’s friends are exchanging childbirth tales, each trying to one-up the next with Tales of Heroic Childbirth. I was flamed mightily for doing a reply-all myself after not being able to make Mr. Computer Illiterate understand I was not his friend. After about 100 messages today, I snapped. I snapped politely, but I snapped. I also brought other strangers out of the woodwork. Guess I wasn’t the only mistyped address in that guy’s address book. His poor wife is going to be mortified when she finds out about this. I would be amused by it all if it wasn’t annoying me.

maybe you should take gas prices as a sign not to be a pig?

I want these people in their Ford Excursions with the tastefully applied Greenpeace sticker on the rear bumper to subsidize what they are doing to our planet in a tangible way. I’m very tired of the sense of entitlement that accompanies SUV-drivers.

I saw whiney yuppies on the news the other night complaining that they should have to pay less at the pumps because they feel like they are being penalized for needing a larger vehicle. A few of them also complained about how hard it is to park in the close-in spaces at the grocery store because the spaces are designed for, you know, normal sized cars. All I can really say to that is: Penalize this, baby.

It’s probably a good thing I don’t run the world because I could see things getting a little arbitrary over time, but I think for starters I have some okay ideas.