Bitchy McBitcherson's Blog

Author: mstori

  • on the way home from the airport

    Kid: Oh my god, what… Ugh. That smells.
    Me: It’s my suitcase.
    Him: What?
    Me: It’s cheese.
    Him: You have smelly cheese in your suitcase?
    Me: It’s good cheese.
    Him: So?
    Me: It is a bit stinky.
    Him: I’ll say.
    Me: It’s really good cheese. It’s ridiculously expensive and I haven’t found it in Minnesota, and to order it and ship it is even more expensive.
    Him: So you put it in your suitcase?
    Me: Yes, I know, all my clothes are fucked. I need to wash everything.
    Kid: It stinks.
    Me: It IS a smelly cheese, but it is SO good.
    Him: You stunk up the plane?!
    Me: Yes, it kind of did. It’s really good cheese.
    Him: People probably thought it was you. They thought you were farty.
    Me: No, the suitcase was over somebody else’s head.
    Kid: It smells like dog poop.
    Me: It’s my favorite cheese. It’s really good.
    Kid: It smells like a dog came in here and pooed all over!
    Me: IT’S GOOD CHEESE!!!
    Him: You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.
    Me: Shut up!
    Kid: Inconceivable.

    Brought to you by Cowgirl Creamery Red Hawk and my not entirely loving family.

  • phucking phone

    I’ve mentioned this before. I have. Many times.

    I hate the phone.

    I do.

    I fucking hate the phone.

    I hate getting calls.

    I hate making calls.

    Sometimes I simply cannot make a call. It is too much effort. I don’t really think this is something that I can explain to anyone who does not have this issue with phones, and I don’t need to explain it to them.

    It is effort, because I need to rehearse the phone call and just get myself ready and prepared to deal with the phone call.

    And see, it is difficult to rehearse something when you and the other person are not following the same script.

    Today, I rehearsed a little script for speaking with Diane about something. I prepared. I took a deep breath. I dialed.

    First of all, I get the wrong phone number. *shudder* That was NOT in the script.

    I call again, quadruple checking the number.

    woman: Hello, Crown Management.

    me: Yes, can I please speak to Diane Sumner?

    woman: Who?

    me: Diane Sumner

    woman: Who?

    me: Extension 208?

    woman: What do you want?

    me: Umm, I need to speak to the person who handles The Oaks, is that no longer Diane?

    woman: Who is this?

    me: I… I… Who is managing The Oaks now?

    woman: I don’t know, this is the operator.

    me: What?

    woman: The OP ER A TOR. You’ve called the operator.

    me: Oh. So, I didn’t reach Crown Management?

    woman: Yes, this is Crown Management, but it is the operator.

    me: Okay. So, can I speak to Diane Sumner?

    woman: She isn’t available.

    me: Okay. Well, can I leave a voicemail?

    woman: No.

    me: Oh… When will she be available?

    woman: I don’t know, they didn’t tell me when they would be available.

    me: Oh…

    woman: I can take a verbal message.

    me: I… whatever, that’s okay. (it has veered too far off script and I’ve had enough, so it is just time to hang up)

    And, while I am not sure anybody will understand this. This essentially sums up for me, exactly what it is like to use the phone. Always.

    ETA: It actually went off script for me as soon as a person answered the phone. Normally when I call that number, I get a phone tree system that allows me to just type in the extension of the person I wish to reach, or I can look them up in the directory by last name.

  • “I’ll beat any quote you get by $50”

    I like a bargain.

    I don’t like to bargain.

    When I get a quote I want it to be a fair price for the company to do whatever it is they are supposed to do. A price at which they can do the job correctly and make a profit that allows them to stay in business. I do not want them to quote a bit higher than that because some people will pay that rate and subsidize jobs they do for lower because they will beat any quote. I don’t want them to quote lower so I say yes, and then tack on extra charges later.

    So, they tell me they will beat any lower quote by $50, and yes, I want my $50. I do. Still, I’d rather give my business to the company I simply decide is best for the job, and a part of that is feeling really good about the way they handle their quotes.

    Every company cannot bid at the same price. Different sized companies operate with different margins. New trucks, versus old trucks. An office versus another family member taking calls at home. I take take many things into account when I am weighing quotes.

    I just don’t get a good feeling off of being told that they will beat any quote.

    I want to be told a price and then decide whether or not it is worth it for me to pay it. I don’t want to play games.

    Many people enjoy bargaining. They love it. They feel good about it and don’t want to take a deal unless they’ve talked them down X%. I know that there are people like that, and that some companies respond by making their first quote X% higher to factor in needing to bargain.

    I just don’t like that, and really don’t want to feed into that way of doing business.
    Still, I would like to keep my extra $50. So, it just all leaves me feeling annoyed and tired, and rather pissed off.

  • Ways to annoy your teen #143953

    Teen: Can you get out the milk?
    Me: *gets milk out of the fridge and holds it up for teen to see* Yes. *puts milk back in fridge*
    Teen: *makes disgusted noise*

  • Puppy Love

    My first crush was a boy in my kindergarten class, named Jimmy.

    One day our mothers made arrangements for us to play together after school. I was excited about it.

    We were playing outside we saw a little dog. The dog was wandering around happily sniffing the at things, tail up and wagging joyfully. Jimmy laughed and pointed at the dog. “Look at his butt! See that hole? That is where the POOP comes out!!” This cracked him up.

    And so my first crush came to an end, amidst his gales of laughter. Period. Full stop.

    It wasn’t that I was embarrassed or grossed out. I worried that the dog might hear and little doggie feelings would be hurt. I thought it was mean of Jimmy to make fun of the dog.

    I told my friend Sarah about it. She was in second grade, and of course we both considered her much wiser and more experienced in the ways of the world.

    She laughed at me. “What did you expect? Boys are way more immature than girls.”

    What do you remember about your first crush?

  • Inquiring Minds Want to Know

    There is a teen who is tasked with managing the dishwasher.

    How many dirty dishes do I need to find in my cabinets and drawers before it becomes acceptable to stab the teen with a dirty butter knife?

    I mean, just a little flesh wound, not aiming for a vital organ or anything… Yet.

  • Setting Small Goals

    Today I hope to ship multiple packages.

    This sounds so simple, and yet is so ridiculously problematic for me.

    I am not kidding, two of the packages I need to ship contain things that I MOVED HERE because I did not manage to ship them to the intended recipients prior to the move, and frankly it is stuff that had been sitting around the other house for a very long time, unsent.

    There is just something about having the stuff that needs sending, an appropriate box, tape to seal the box, the address, the time, the memory, and the energy/patience to deal with the post office, all coming together in the same spacetime, that proves more difficult than it should be.

  • Underthings… tumbling

    Not only is today my daughter’s 14th birthday, it is also laundry day.

    Not the scheduled sort of laundry day, but that “Oh fuck, if I don’t do some laundry NOW, clothing won’t even be an option anymore” kind of laundry day.

    This is why I look like some sort of… goth wench pirate with argyle tights.

    Luckily she has a high threshold of tolerance before the “my mother is too embarrassing to be seen out in public with her” cutoff kicks in, and apparently this outfit doesn’t do it.

    It probably would if I wore it on one of the homeschool meeting days.

    Hmmm… Now there’s a thought.

  • Daydreams

    shreds

  • Open Letter: Neighbor Edition

    Dear Neighbors,

    Hi. I’m sure you’ve noticed that we’ve moved into your neighborhood. For one thing there was the whole giant moving truck thing. For another a couple of you come and stare out your windows at us whenever we are doing something in the front yard. For another thing, we clear our driveway and the sidewalk when it snows.

    The last time it snowed, it snowed only lightly, but we still cleared it. I’m sure that made some of you talk. Crazy people clearing now when there is so little of it. I notice that only one other person on the street bothered to clear theirs.

    The thing is? I’m from California and I don’t fucking like snow on the driveway, not even a thin layer. It stays there and then it freezes to a hard slippery layer, and then everything that we need to do on our driveway is more difficult to do safely, like walking, or driving.

    So, when your kids come and get into snowball fight in THIS front yard? And cause a bunch of snow to get in the driveway as they throw shit and make snow balls out of the snow piles we’ve carefully cleared from the driveway? It pisses me right the fuck off.

    And yes, it is important that the driveway be cleared off with the noisy shovels after 10 PM at night, because I don’t want to get up early in the morning to do it, and I don’t care if you don’t like the noise, and go ahead and keep staring at me out your window.

    I don’t want kids playing in the yard. I don’t want to be your friend. What I want is a moat and a 20 foot wall, but this is a rental.

    – Cranky, Un-neighborly, Unfriendly Me