Sep. 10th, 2017 06:43 pm
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As I washed and prepped broccoli for dinner tonight, I noticed some "dirt" clinging to the florets. I looked closer. Not dirt!

The whole head was covered in bugs. No amount of washing was going to get them out, and even if it could be done. Bugs. I can't.

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Dude. Ew.
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Any Stargate fans remember a scene where Sam is helping the Asgard underthink the Replicators and Thor brings out some food cubes? "I like the yellow ones." And then Sam eats a yellow one and her face...

Well, I purchased some "golden milk latte" powder mix, which is turmeric, pepper, some other spices like ginger and cinnamon, powdered coconut milk, etc, in the hopes for joint pain relief and to help me sleep through the night. I made one glass. Tried to like it. I barely choked it down and then the pouch has sat on my counter untouched. Much like I was able to give myself one injection ever, the first one when you don't know what fresh hell you are about to unleash on yourself, I just haven't been able to muster the fortitude to make another disgusting yellow mug of spicy dirt to drink.

Tonight, I decided I was going to take the powder dry and rinse my mouth out after. Hahahaaaaaaa. No.

I am sure turmeric has many wonderful qualities, but taste ain't one of them. I will have to find another way to try this stuff. A pill with a meal that contains some fat and some dairy? A colleague gave me some of her golden milk paste and that wasn't nearly so awful.

Tag abuse

Mar. 13th, 2016 09:46 am
superbadgirl: (Default)
Ugh, I am so sick of people over tagging a story. If I'm reading an explicit story, I do not need to know every type of sex the couple in question is going to have.

Sex. Oral Sex. Sexual Content. Explicit Sexual Content. Het. Het and Slash. Heterosexual Sex. Rough Sex. Restraints. Begging. Wall Sex. Outdoor Sex. Shower Sex. Car Sex.

I would say all but the first are complete overkill, except if I'm already aware, by the genre, that I'm reading an E rated story (or rather not, because the tags frankly reduce my interest rather than pique it) involving sex.

That's a mild example the ones that really make me run away are the ones that don't just leave it at nipple play, but have to use fifteen tags regarding nipples. This, too, is mild. Picture that with the word anal.

Stop it. If something is dubious or non con, tag away. Otherwise, narrow it down so that your tag list isn't longer than your damned story.

Abuse of tags on this post is intentional.
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It was very foggy this morning, the kind that's thick enough adrenaline kicks up at certain points - when there's a curve where a car could pop out all of a sudden, when the stoplight only comes into view half a block away from it. I love a foggy morning, because it generally leads to a warm, sunny day.

On the way to work, I counted NINETEEN vehicles without headlights on.
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Was out of town for training last night, and at the hotel the company put me up at had the worst experience I've ever had at a hotel. I used to work at a place I not-so-lovingly called The Vermin Inn and I would put this on par with some of the shenanigans that went on there (but, actually, staff there did their job fairly well; clientele quickly turned people sour there, as some of you might remember from my telling of customer exploits).

Bear in mind I'd driven three hours, at least an hour of that sitting in rush hour traffic, so my take on this might be skewed by the irritation and exhaustion from the trip. I arrived at the front desk, where there were three people standing. One was helping another patron, one looked to be doing paperwork and one might have been housekeeping. I noticed the paperwork one see me, so I simply waited. And waited some more. When she finally got to me, she barely communicated verbally with me, never made direct eye contact and didn't smile. She didn't tell me where my room was, though the number was written on the sleeve for the key cards. I wandered till I found it (it was also a conference center, so there were excess rooms and halls to go through before I saw the signs).

I got to the room and immediately heard the TV was on, and a voice emanating from it. Hmm, I thought, methinks this room is already occupied. I tried the key card anyway. Fortunately, it didn't work. I trotted back to the front desk to inform the clerk there was someone in the room she just sent me to.

"No, that can't be. See, on the paper it says 115, the card says 115 and the slot here in this antiquated card filing system also says you're in 115," she said.

"Maybe so, but I assure you, there is someone else already in that room," I said.

"Can't be. You must be wrong."

I noticed there were other guests to be checked in, so I told her I'd go double check while she and her sunny personality assisted them.

"Try knocking on the door first," she said.


I had no intention of doing that and didn't. You see, that would fall under "other duties as assigned" for her job description, not the guest's! Sure enough, though, when I got back to the room, the key card still didn't work and there was someone inside. I don't know if the clerk expected that it would miraculously be any different when I tried the second time or what.

I went back to the lobby and waited for the clerk to help the other guests, then informed her again that my room is occupied. She huffed and grabbed the housekeeping key, and headed for the room to do the thing she should have done immediately (though, strictly speaking, I think she should have just reassigned me a room the first time I told her there was someone inside mine). Five minutes later, she came back and said, "Yes, I guess there is someone in there."


Then she and another girl did some stuff, none of it involving an apology for the confusion or any kind of acknowledgment of rudeness, etc. and eventually got me into another room. Again, no real indication which room (good thing I can read) or how to get there. This is key, because the room I got assigned is tucked out of the way and I walked by it three times before I realized there was a room back by the elevator around the corner from the stairs.

I finally got into a room half an hour after entering the lobby the first time.

Was it just tiredness on my part, or was that a whole lot of nonsense?

When I got back to the office, I sent a note to the person responsible for booking travel, suggesting that maybe that hotel be scratched off the list. I'm booked there next week, in August and then random nights once or twice a month until November and I'd REALLY rather not stay there.

Now I'm home and my wifi is being wonky. Because I'm totally rational, I blame the hotel.


Apr. 25th, 2013 08:50 pm
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Why would one want to experience art or culture when one can ... Facebook?

What a world, what a world!
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Notice how I didn't go for an egg pun? You're welcome.

I don't know what you do when it's 2 AM and you can't sleep, but I color eggs. No, really. I had this brilliant idea, set the eggs on the stove to cook and prepared my cups o' dye. Alas, two cups in, I realized I only had two tablespoons of vinegar. For a normal person, that might have been a deterrent. Not I! I finished cooking the eggs, then stumbled out to a 24 hour convenience store, hair unkempt and wearing my I Would Cuddle You So Hard T (in red), with white leggings - a look I cannot pull off, but at 2 AM, no one gives a damn - only to find out they won't take a debit card for charges less than five dollars. So on top of the vinegar, I bought a 13.7 oz box of Raisin Bran for $5.50, which, yes, I know is highway fucking robbery, but 2 AM.

And then the eggs turned out like this anyway. )

Later today, I plan to eat part of the rainbow. The whole thing would be a bit much.
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*can't sleep, clowns will eat me*


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