Wednesday, October 14, 2009

A Pot To Piss In

So, my building has been undergoing a wonderful pipe-lining project. Run by chimpanzees. The project entails cutting large holes in the wall, scratching one's head confusedly, and then leaving taped up holes in the wall for the cat to investigate.

Oh, and did I mention that they couldn't figure out how to open the door to my deck so they chose to jump through the window, Dukes of Hazzard style? Awesome!

The project was supposed to consist of lining the pipes with some space-age polymer that would prevent pinhole leaks. This was supposed to be completed with a minimal amount of wall holeage, dust, damage and the like. The first few rooms went as planned, save for replacing my washer and dryer right justified, so that I couldn't open my dryer.

Anyhow, when they reached master bathroom, a little snag was encountered. Namely, the pipes, they weren't there, where they thought they were, because, you know, RESEARCH? Not their strong suit. So, another chunk of wall was removed, and taped over, for decorative effect, and then they left, for, oh, let's say, three weeks or so.

When they returned, the seasons had changed, and so had my temper. Needless to say, I was not amused by the clown college sent in to fix my bathroom. Reassured by the building manager, they set about their job, speaking to "El Gato" in Spanish, who entertained them by running back and forth at top speed and trying to sleep in the bathtub while they were working. They also spent an inordinate amount of time attempting to chat me up while I was attempting to work. Hello? See the multiple laptops and files strewn about? This means I have a JOB.

In the afternoon, I was called in to glance at their handiwork, they turned on the faucets and I was sent away. Satisfied, I hurried back to work, not noticing what lurked in the shower. When I returned to clean later that weekend, I noticed that the spigot looked a kilter, perhaps....more like....three sheets to the wind. It was decidedly listing to the left. Poking at it, it MOVED. That ain't right. That's when I noticed a GAPING HOLE under it. about the size of a piece of Trident Gum. Yes, large enough for plenty of water flow. Visible. Also around the plate surrounding the handle was a cracked tile and a small gap. NIIIIIICCCEEE.

CLOWNS HAD INSTALLED MY SHOWER PLUMBING. I think *I* could have done a better job with some gum and some wet sand. Seriously.

So we get that repaired, and then the following Monday, the building engineer appears at my door, to let me know that my batty underneath neighbor's bathroom has flooded. HOORAY!

MY TOILET BROKE. The one in the same bathroom, where Team Chimp has recently hooked up some hoses. Coincidence? I think not!

So now, no pot to piss in for the master bathroom for a couple of days! WOOT!

Monday, October 12, 2009

General Kvetchery

Things that are bothering me today:
  1. Supermarionation. Beyond creepy. One day, I will be released from my torment when God wipes away all vestiges of this unnatural and wrong television technique.
  2. ETS. They have such a racket going. I need to PAY them to take a test for graduate school, that won't accurately predict my acumen for graduate school, but rather will add stress to my life while I try to remember math I never really understood in the first place. And of course I can't use the LSAT for grad school because then they would be out the $150 I have to pay for the GRE.
  3. People who can't write cursive. Speaking of the LSAT, we had to write a pledge at the end of that test in cursive. Hands flying up when this is read because these are college graduates who DO NOT KNOW HOW TO WRITE CURSIVE. I know it's really not the most useful thing to know if our texting/Twitter/Facebook/IM society, but how do they sign their names? I love cursive personally. My notes written in cursive are now going to by cryptologically secure. I'm like a code talker.
  4. X8, X3 buses. Why don't you ever come? I should NEVER have to go onto the Next Bus site and see that the next bus is in 87 minutes during rush hour. And the B2? You come every 3.7 minutes, a lot of times two at once. But the X3 can only come every 80 minutes?
  5. WMATA's Trip Planner. Thank you WMATA for having a trip planner. However, stop telling me to take the B2 bus the 10 feet to the end of my street, even when I use the advanced options and tell you I am willing to walk almost a mile. Is the B2 bus like PHARMA to WMATAs Congress?
  6. Congress. The President gave you the bill. Mandates without fines? No public option? This was your chance to restore American's faith in our government. A chance for me to start believing that I am represented in government and that reelection prospects and big corporation lobbies come second to what the American people want. That was the dream. And it has been defecated on. And can you PLEASE stop putting Abstinence clauses on everything? Get a grip, you know that is just going to delay everything more. Let's just work on healthcare so that Americans can stop going bankrupt and that we can maybe move above Easter Bloc countries in terms of health care spending v quality of healthcare (and would you look at that? it's the same with education and taxes in general - we are spending tons of citizen money and getting nothing for it - do you see a pattern yet?)
  7. Seven Corners. WTF. The population density of your area is 12,773.2 per square mile. And each person owns a car and drives around Seven Corners 24 hours a day. Can you PLEASE vote for someone who will give NoVA more than three roads and possibly even another bridge and possibly some metro access? I understand that you don't want to pay more taxes, but you only have three roads and 100 billion cars. If you don't, then Virginians have no right to complain about traffic any more. I have decreed this.

Wednesday, October 7, 2009

Perhaps This Will Explain Why I Kvetch

So, my Grandfather, he is 92 years old. Interestingly, he has ALWAYS been this cantankerous, as far as I can tell. We cannot blame the following story on age.

Anyhow, my grandparents are the sort that frequent those diners that have 1,000 items on the menu and have names like "The Nautilus" and the like. You know the sort of places of which I speak. Bland, non-offensive establishments that cater to the masses.

As of late, my grandad has switched between multiple diners for these reasons:

Left dining establishment #1 due to a 40% increase in the price of coffee, also known as 10 cent hike in price. Yes, over a DIME A CUP.

Left establishment #2 over ordering a pork chop sandwich, which was a BONE-IN pork chop sandwich (okay, yes, this IS a bit odd. You could BREAK A TOOTH here, people.) However, the real issue was that there was NOT ENOUGH SORROW ON THE PART OF THE OWNER.

Left establishment #3 as a lady patron, who eats at the same time as my grandparents, has the audacity to say hello and ask how my grandmother is doing. EVERY DAMN TIME THEY GO THERE.

So now they are returning to establishment #2, as it is under new management, who might express more sorrow. Because we all know it is ALL ABOUT THE SORROW.

This is also the same man that complained that a bratwurst he ordered had been "downsized."

And people wonder where I get all this rage from?