Alison Blogs Here : Semi-Dangerous When Thinking

A Sad Way to Start a Birthday.

For the past several weeks, I’ve been nursing a couple of litters of kittens back to health, with varying degrees of success. The shelter released them to foster because they were scheduled to be euthanized, but had the potential to get healthy if they got the kind of one-on-one attention that a crowded, busy shelter just can’t provide.

A couple of them needed to be syringe-fed because they wouldn’t eat. One had me up all night twice keeping him warm and waking to an alarm every hour or two to give him water from a dropper. They went through a round of one antibiotic, then some went through a round of a stronger one, and some of them also had to put up with ointment being put in their eyes twice a day. It was important to watch to make sure they were each eating well, drinking enough, and having the right kind and volume of poop and pee every day.

Two of them recovered beautifully. Two of them seemed fine except for a goopy eye, which even so was improving. One still had a rattle in his chest, but was otherwise a happy, active, normal kitty. One had been a walking mucus factory until this past weekend, but now had big wide eyes, normal breathing, and a nice round kitten belly. The last was still having a hard time, but it was clear to me that she was less goopy than she had been - both eyes were open, if a little red-rimmed, she’d stopped sneezing, and she was right in there with the others when it was time to eat or play.

So I wasn’t worried when I sent them off with our adoption co-ordinator to the shelter for their next round of immunizations. Time for a wake-up call.

The last two I described were put to sleep immediately. The others have been given a week’s reprieve - isolated in a cage at the shelter to see if they clear up, put to sleep if they haven’t. B., the adoption coordinator, argued with them about putting them back into their foster home, or releasing them to the rescue organization so they wouldn’t be the shelter’s responsibility, to no avail.

The whole family was devastated. Even hubby, who essentially merely tolerates the cats for my sake, was in tears. I keep turning the waterworks on again when I think about it. Last night, every time I didn’t have one of the little boys snuggling into my neck, nursing on my jaw and making happy feet on my neck, I fell apart again.

I got used to letting the cats go when it was time for them to be adopted out. That became a happy occasion, because I knew they’d be going to a permanent, loving home (with a lot fewer cats competing for attention!) Each time I’d go in to the center to clean and see one of my fosters had found a home, it felt wonderful. This is completely different. Their fate will not be affected by how pretty they are, or how cuddly they are, or how goofy they look when they’re playing, or how much they love to be with their people. They can’t charm their way out of this.

We can’t do anything except hope that they all look healthy by the end of the week (which is, essentially, doing nothing, but feels like doing something). It’s raised some serious questions in the house, though. We won’t be fostering any more cats that aren’t free of the shelter system - falling in love with a cat who might be deemed unsatisfactory and destroyed later is too damaging to all of us. The question is, will we continue to foster, and if so, will we insist on being selective about what cats we’ll take? There’s a lot to think about.

Change of Life. . .

Well, not the kind you might be thinking. That, unfortunately, seems to be a long time in coming. Life, though, is changing.

I didn’t realize how much the crap with Smart Carpet was stressing me out. I still have a bit left to go, because they pulled up the laminate floors and laid the carpet, but I still haven’t gotten my refund. I need to call now that it’s been three weeks, but I’ve had some impositions on my time, especially during “business hours.” We’re not done with putting furniture and decor back into their final destinations, but the fact that we can makes a big difference in my mood. A lot of the stress was having stuff stashed all over the house, so the two rooms with the defective floors looked like they were still works in progress, and the others looked like trash repositories. Never knowing if some inspector or installer was going to come, what time to expect them, and how long they might stay was driving me nuts. Arguing with them and being insulted by them didn’t help, either. Getting it down to just fighting about the money is a lot easier to deal with.

But just when you think you’re in the clear. . .

Mom dislocated her artificial hip last weekend. Dislocating a joint that no longer has tendons and ligaments to help hold it in place is way worse than dislocating an intact natural joint. 4 days and three nights in the hospital, reduction needing to be done under general anesthesia, physical therapy both in the hospital and yet to come, possible surgery to replace the replacement joint, and a restriction on driving that might be permanent. It’s been difficult for her, but it’s also been difficult for me and my Dad. You see, Dad is legally blind, can’t hear too well even with his hearing aids, and is starting to have memory problems that really disturb him because he knows exactly what he’s forgetting and can’t find it anywhere in his head. He has always been self-sufficient, and justifiably proud of his abilities, but now he needs to be taken care of, and so does mom, and his hands are tied.

I’ve always expected that, as the oldest child, the one geographically closest, and with the most flexibility (no outside job, older kids, husband who can work from home if needed), I’d be the one doing the caretaking in whatever capacity they needed. It’s one thing to know that philosophically, another to actually do it. Every other time I’ve driven out and spent time with them, it’s been for something clearly temporary like an illness or operation, or doing something in the house or garden that I’m more able to do than they are. When I go out there to help, it’s pretty clear that they’ll work things out, pulling together to overcome each others’ obstacles and do things according to their abilities. I’ve seen them aging, but never thought of them as “old”. I still don’t, but at the same time I know there are a lot of things I’m denying.

Right now, I spent time taking Dad back and forth for visits for a couple of days to the hospital, gave them some advice about taking advantage of some things they’re entitled to that will make their lives easier, get things ready in the house so Mom could get around and Dad could find stuff, and yesterday I did some grocery shopping for them so they’d have some things Mom could cook without standing for too long. They’re certain that they’ll be able to get around soon with the help of friends and senior transportation, and I nod and agree with them optimistically. It would be nice if they could, because they’re really independent and very busy with activities and friends that they truly enjoy, but I have to face the reality that I’m going to be stepping in more and more often.

Don’t get me wrong - I love my parents and enjoy spending time with them. I’m glad that hubby thought ahead and realized that me getting an outside job would be impractical even after the kids start becoming more independent. We’ve thought it through, planned for a few different scenarios, have a pretty good understanding of what changes might be coming for all of us in the future.

It’s different to face the reality, though. No matter how well you think it out, it doesn’t evoke the same emotions as actually experiencing it. All conflicts and difficulties are surmountable in theory, and you can prepare yourself magnificently for changes and compromises when you’re making practical plans.

People who’ve seen me in emergencies and tough situations that need strength and certainty know that I can pull it off like a pro. I swoop in, do what has to be done, take care of the things that need to be taken care of, make the arrangements that need to be made, negotiate, comfort, do battle, even, when needed. I’m the cool head, the one who knows what to do, the fixer. Hail the conquering hero! I wait until everything’s taken care of, everyone feels better and has been settled in, “my work here is done.” And that’s when I have the time to think, “ohshitohshitohshit. . .” My wonderful hubby helps so much, picking up the slack at home, letting me vent, helping in any way he can. But even with him, my muscles tense up. My fears and uncertainties come out in dreams and disturb my sleep. I wake up with pain in my neck and ear from clenching my teeth at night.

This will pass. I know it will. It always does, as the new thing becomes just another part of my life. It’s the change that’s hard.

Can You Figure Out What Happened?

see more pwn and owned

2008 06 23 Alison Humor Comments (2) Permalink

Miscellaneous Stuff, I Guess.

I really wish I were better at long-term planning. A lot of the yard work I have to do could have been done in the fall or in Spring, instead of staring me in the face now shouting the accusation, “You have the sloppiest yard in the neighborhood! Everyone with nice yards hates what you’re doing to property values!!!” No matter how long I’ve worked at silencing the inner guilt-inspiring voices, some of them still come back to haunt me!

The fish pond is low on water, so it’s the perfect time to vacuum it out and cull some of the brown shubunkins and retrieve things that fell to the bottom before refilling it - and this should be done before the marginal plants die of thirst, too.

My duct tape double is mostly stuffed, and it wouldn’t take more than a few hours to finish it, secure all the tape ends, and make a cover so I can start sewing clothes for myself that fit right. I have a pile of t-shirts that are all ready to remake creatively, but since I haven’t had the time, I hit Target and restocked on new ones.

I’ll need to run the vacuum around the house before the Smart Carpet salesman comes tomorrow, too. We’re going with the least hassle option - carpet - because it’s the thing they’re least likely to mess up installing. They said that they wouldn’t charge for new installation, but we’d have to pay for an upgrade. The thought of these guys fouling up on the installation of an even more expensive floor was too much to bear. Nobody seems to want to tell us if we’ll get any kind of credit for a less expensive floor (since carpet is generally less than laminate) but if they say no, we’re going to get the best carpet and pad they’ve got. I’ve been researching, and I’d like to get PET or PTT polyester. They’re not as plush or long-wearing as nylon brands like Stainmaster, according to the experts. However, I’ve had Stainmaster, and not only was I not terribly impressed by how well it stood up to wear, I also had a terrible problem cleaning it. Yes, the stains come out, but so does the dye. One of the reasons it’s popular is the variety of colors it comes in, but because it’s easy to dye, it’s also easy for the dye to be sucked out. I can get almost any stain out eventually, but I’m not interested in making up a matching dye so it’s handy to re-color the stupid spots. The PET and PTT polyesters are also made from recycled plastics, so I like that, too. So we shall see tomorrow.

I’ve also really been wanting to finish up my polymer clay color samples and refine my clay/fabric decoupage technique, but the art studio has been acting like a garage lately. Not only do we have the stuff that needs to be kept until we sort it and arrange it logically after we finish the walls and wiring, but we had to put litter boxes in because of Spencer’s poor hygiene habits, and all the stuff from the living room/office and bedroom had to go somewhere while the floor guys were futzing around.

I haven’t been sitting around doing nothing, though. (Well, I do, but mostly after I’m tired from NOT sitting around doing nothing all day long!) Audrey and I rode to the bike store and got baskets put on our bikes, and rode to the supermarket for a two-bike-basket-size trip. I’ve been back and forth to the pool store trying to get the sludge out of the water (I love what happens when the water pipes get cleaned in this town!) I created more yard waste by trimming a big tree out front and pulling up the junk from underneath, and have been planting and moving things. I’ve been in the car to visit a friend for a day, take the kids to the dentist up north, take them to art classes in Red Bank at Colorest, then back to drop off the art I forgot to bring for the show, then up again for the show itself, to Monmouth Feed for pond supplies, doing laundry and hanging it to dry, teaching Audrey how to do applique on one of the items we picked up when we went thrift-store shopping. . .and I did clean up a lot in the garage so I could get to my clay (that took an entire day, in between hanging up laundry!)

I think that we’re going to haul one vanload of brush over to the recycling center, then I’ll take care of the fish, and then I’ll spend the day being an artist. I see a couple of cool showers in my future. . .

2008 06 21 Alison General
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The Power of Prayer. . .

Not too long ago, I passed on a story about a young girl who died because her parents were treating her diabetes with prayer. A different church attempted the same thing with young Ava Worthington, with equal success, and now Ava’s cousin has had the same results.

Fortunately, Oregon, unlike Wisconsin, has laws that hold parents responsible for withholding medical treatment from children in favor of faith healing. (In the articles from kgw, it looks like this particular church was a driving force in this law.)

Colorado had just changed their law granting exemption from prosecution for faith-healing parents when this happened:

March, 2001
Grand Junction — Charges have been filed against the parents of a 13-year-old girl who died from a common infection that turned into gangrene after her parents opted to treat her with prayer but not medicine.

Randy and Colleen Bates, members of the General Assembly Church of the First Born, were issued summonses Friday on charges of criminally negligent homicide, reckless manslaughter, reckless child abuse resulting in death, and criminally negligent child abuse resulting in death.

Church of the First Born members believe there is a biblical injunction against medical treatment. They treat illnesses and injuries with prayer.

Amanda Bates, one of the Bateses’ 11 children, died Feb. 6. Someone at her home called 911 early that morning to report an unattended death. Paramedics were able to revive the skeletal youngster, and she was kept alive until evening on machines at St. Mary’s Hospital and St. Luke’s Hospital in Denver. An autopsy showed she died from complications of diabetes, which include an increased risk of infections. Amanda’s infection began with an easily treated vaginitis, which eventually spread and turned to gangrene.

Even a group called Religious Tolerance lists faith-healing sects, including their incidences of unnecessary deaths. Our tolerance, as well, should be exclusive of beliefs that cause this kind of suffering. Perhaps we must allow people to hold their beliefs, no matter how ridiculous, but they have to be held responsible for the actions they take because of their beliefs. People whose beliefs include animal sacrifice or grave robbing for human remains to be used in ceremony find themselves charged with crimes if they’re caught sacrificing animals or robbing graves. There is no reason that people who withhold medical treatment from children until they are clearly ill, even until they die, should not be charged with a crime. The evidence of faith healing’s failure as a treatment is abundant - evidence of its success is wishful thinking.

And yet. . .our tax dollars just paid for Ken Ham to speak at the every-Wednesday Pentagon Prayer Breakfast.

Despite the fact that Ken Ham is delusional, as any look at Answers in Genesis or a brief tour through his ludicrous Creation Museum shows. But our military leadership wants to hear what he has to say.

Despite the fact that the prayers of devout believers directed at specific individuals has failed to save their lives, our government supports prayer to save entire troops (who were sent into danger by the very same folks soliciting the prayers) both ideologically and financially.

Despite the fact that parents avoid simple, proven medical treatments in favor of wishing really hard end up killing their children, many states exempt them from prosecution.

Am I wrong to object to my government endorsing religion in this way? Does it not seem like letting people die is OK as long as you really wish hard that they don’t? Is doing nothing, in the form of waiting for your invisible friend to grant your wishes, a get out of jail free card?

As long as prayer is held up as a viable course of action, practiced loudly and publicly by influential people, and allowed as an excuse for people to act in otherwise inexcusable ways, it is indeed an establishment of religion. It is a violation of the Constitution, and a violation of common sense.

2008 06 19 Alison Rants
General
Politics
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Congo Attacks Again

Why did this have to happen? I am not a fan of euthanizing animals, even when it’s the alternative to a protracted, painful death (a mercy, but I still feel bad), but an animal that’s dangerous and hasn’t been controlled by its owners shouldn’t be allowed to live.

Now Congo, his mate Lucia, and offspring Hunter and Bear were euthanized after attacking the mother of their owner’s wife.

“I don’t want people who were supportive of Congo (after last year’s landscaper mauling) to think they were supporting a bad dog,” Guy James said in an interview. He said Tuesday’s unfortunate encounter between the dogs and his mother-in-law “wasn’t an attack at all. It was dogs jumping.”

Right. He claims that his mother in law opened the back door, and the dogs were just jumping enthusiastically because they wanted to come in. They were so happy that they bit her head, chest, and forearm. Just a little innocent play. Oh, and they knocked Mrs. Ladd over, breaking her hip. Wait, that’s another place where the police report was wrong - according to James, his wife knocked her mother over trying to get between her and the dogs. Nice way to shift the blame, dude. Especially if Ladd dies or is severely disabled as a result, which is highly likely.

He’s telling the press that the dogs were euthanized because a judge would force him to do it anyway, and he didn’t want them stuck in a cage while the lawsuit went on. Nobody understands how delicate these sweet doggies really are, apparently.

I mean, after all they went through after that little incident with the landscaper, you can understand why they might be a bit nervous! (And look at the photo of Rivera - what a whiny baby!)

A google search on this dog returns more hits sympathizing with the dog than anything else. It’s sickening. What’s clear to me is that Guy James is an irresponsible pet owner. He has not trained them to behave, he has not made accommodations to protect people in lieu of training the dogs, or in response to the dogs’ propensity to attack. If you have an animal that responds violently and offensively to strangers and/or surprises, you need to train that animal. If the animal can’t be trained, then it must be restrained. If you can’t or won’t restrain the animal, you need to put it to death.

Did he train Congo? His wife claims that she commanded the dogs to stop attacking Rivera, to no avail. If that reflects their training, I’d say they were untrained or badly trained. Were they restrained? Well, if a guest can open a door to the house and get attacked, then the restraint was inadequate or nonexistent.

Two of the cats I’ve had in my life and one of the dogs were put to sleep as soon as it was clear they were dangerous. The first cat jumped on my sister while she was sitting watching TV, and his antisocial nature indicated this would happen again. He went to the vet that afternoon. The dog was from back in the days when you let the dog out to wander - we don’t know if he bit anyone else, but he bit someone who knew who he was, and he was put to sleep as well. A few years ago, one of our cats overreacted to provocation - I was willing to give him a chance, since this was the first time, and he had actually been hit on the head deliberately. When my daughter was snuggling with him and he sunk claws and teeth into her head, that was his last chance. If any animal of mine inflicted the kind of injury these dogs did, they wouldn’t have gotten that second chance. You can’t reason with them or negotiate.

I just wonder how long it’s going to take Guy James to get himself some more dogs to ruin with indulgence and excuses. Congo’s Law should include a provision restricting people from getting more animals - but by euthanizing these dogs before he could be charged under even this watered-down piece of legislation, James has nothing holding him back. Sadly, I’m pretty sure we’ll be seeing this man’s new dogs in the news somewhere down the line, too.

2008 06 19 Alison Rants Comments (0) Permalink

I Hate All Kinds of Marketing. . .

I was going to make this a pretty simple post, with just a couple of pictures and comments, but it took a while to get into my admin section of wordpress. . .because some shithead spammer hacked in and managed to post a link to his fake pharma site. It put a whole bunch of comments that had been marked as spam into the comments folder as well, which slowed everything down, on top of which there were 425 spam messages in the comments awaiting moderation. As always, these people take the prize for being scum of the earth.

In second place, would be the folks who are marketing to children. Erich Vieth at Dangerous Intersection has a post about these subhuman creatures that you should read (and watch).

So, by comparison, these next two ads are so far down on the vile and repugnant scale that they’re almost humorous. I’d imagine anyone who’s cracked open a magazine with a female demographic in the last couple of months has seen this:

Yep, those women were all 50 pounds overweight until they slipped into those jeans. They’re frickin’ amazing, those jeans. It’s like living in photoshop! Put them on, and people can see light between your thighs! Your inhumanly long, slender thighs that completely fill out pants labeled “natural fit”. Cut me a break.

Sunday’s coupon section of the newspaper is always good for reassurance that you’re feeding your family better than most of the country, but rarely does it give me a laugh as big as this did:

Oh, this has so many levels of stupid. Shall we begin with the simple ludicrousness that pirates knew anything about barbecue? I’m picturing the cook struggling to keep a grill full of hot coals from spilling all over the deck while the crew does battle with another ship, or fights nature’s fury. . .and, of course, the idea that they’d set sail for months at a time with a hold full of raw steaks, sausages, and ground beef. Yum! Moving on, because you can’t really see it in the image, I must point out the authentic pirate-y flavors of Apple Maple, Fra Diavolo, and Mesquite. Finally, you could really have fun with “Put the Arrr!!! in BBQ”. I mean, yeah, it’s short for “barbecue”, but let’s be honest - “BBQ” stands alone, so if you put an R in it, it could stand for all kinds of other things, depending on where you put it. Heh. Go on, give it a try!

Be Right Back, Quasimodo!
Beer Belly Quarter Round
Requisite Basic Bitchslapping Quiz

BTW, that parrot had better not poop on the potato salad. . .

2008 06 18 Alison Rants Comments (1) Permalink

Smart Carpet on Notice. . .

Not quite 10 months ago, I was so excited to have new floors. It was about January I started to notice the dark lines between the flooring panels. I went to a local floor place to see whether there was a product that would safely fill the gaps in my laminate floor, and was given more of an education in flooring than Smart Carpet had offered. Apparently, those gaps shouldn’t exist at all. Nor should I hear cracking noises as I walked across it. Plus, I should have been given a whole lot more paperwork with warranties and instructions, like at least more than the absolutely none at all that were provided by Smart Carpet.

The store owner suggested that I should contact Smart Carpet directly, since this was clearly not the way the floor was supposed to look or act, in his experience. So I did, and this has led to several months of appointments and visits and reports. We went from being told that this was normal when a floor was installed on concrete, that it would be fine again when the weather warmed up (Somehow warmth expels dirt from cracks?) to Smart Carpet saying it was a manufacturing defect, to the manufacturer saying it was an installation defect, and finally to Smart Carpet saying that they would come in, pull up the floor, clean up the edges, and reinstall the floor - correcting the gaps as they went.

I kind of knew something bad was coming when the replacement flooring was dropped off on Monday (to acclimate it to the environment in the house) and there were only 6 boxes and one small roll of underlayment. I knew for darn sure that there was too much wrong with the floor for this to be the solution, and sure enough, when the installers started working, I could see that I was supposed to be placated by a token gesture.

There was quite a bit of animated conversation going on in Portuguese. Nice way to make sure you can talk freely in front of the customer. They showed me how much tighter the joints were on the new planks, which was certainly not helpful because there weren’t enough of them. I pointed out that the edges on the new planks were jagged and still had gaps that would undoubtedly widen from friction as the floor was walked on. One of them left the house, made a call (in Portuguese) and then told me his supervisor would be calling. We waited for a while. He called again, then spoke to his partner, and they began reinstalling the old planks. I asked him what was going on, and he said his supervisor would call me in an hour. Then they left.

I wasn’t keeping track of the time, but the man who called me was not the one I knew as their supervisor. He had it all figured out.

I had ruined the floor myself by exposing it to moisture.

What???

He cited the fact that a couple of spots were noted on one report as moisture damage. I told him that those were specific spots where I had told the various inspectors that I had spilled water, which was then immediately wiped up but still caused damage. He said that I had used a swiffer to clean the floor, so that must have done it. I asked him why, then, was the floor just as damaged in the areas that were covered with carpet and furniture? He just reiterated that I should have used an approved laminate cleaner, so I asked him how that would be applied? Well, a spray bottle, for spot cleaning only, with an approved solution, which I should then wipe up with a dry cloth. I asked him how this liquid would not get into the cracks, but wetjet laminate floor solution wouldn’t. I asked him why, if the salesman had told me this was an easy-care floor, I should be on my hands and knees with a spray bottle and a cloth to clean it. This went on - he continued to insist that I had damaged my entire floor, in two rooms, in a matter of months, by saturating it from above. Forget that the joints were gapped and uneven with no evidence of moisture damage, forget that the salesman said it would lock tight and could be washed with the swiffer, forget that the floor makes cracking noise when you walk on it, forget that you can see tiny chips on many of the edges of the laminate, forget that there’s glue gobs all over the transition pieces. Forget all that. The floor would have stayed pristine forever if only I’d never sprayed it down with the garden hose - I told him that in order for the floor to have the conditions he was describing, that’s what I would have had to do.

So now he has “tried” to get in contact with “someone” who can “address” this “problem”, but he’s “been in meetings all day.” That’s OK, I’m trying to get in contact with someone who can address the problem, too. Like, a lawyer. We’ll see who can address the problem faster.

2008 06 06 Alison Rants
House and Garden Comments (2) Permalink

Sometimes. . .

it’s so hard to be nice. Yes, I’m a really nice person, sometimes disgustingly so, but I’m only human. I need to blow off steam just like anyone else, but that side usually comes out only in front of friends (who can forgive me) or on the internet (where it’s de rigeur and hardly noticed.) Bingo night usually gives all of us a chance to blow off a little snark, but last night I had to take a little retreat!

Let me give you a little exposition here first.

The end of the school year is always crazy, what with the concerts and kids’ parties and end-of-school things that I always have to do coinciding with the beginning of gardening season. There have been additional things this year, much of it relating to marching band in one way or another. I’ve been busy almost every waking moment. Ummmm. . .busy doesn’t necessarily mean productive. I have to be honest. I have done a lot of stuff, though.

Among the things I’ve been working on have been teaching myself a little more Excel, in the form of updating the band roster and getting it to have multiple tabs for different orders of the list. Hubby had to help, but I am definitely ascending the learning curve a lot on my own. The other thing I’ve been doing is honing some photoshop skills, assembling and editing images for band buttons. I thought it would be a cool thing for the kids to have buttons for orientation night that showed their section instrument. I was able to find some free clipart images of a number of instruments, but not all the ones I needed. So, it was off to Google image search, then a good amount of time trying to make photos look more like drawings, layer, resize, and skew multiple images (and then try to make them look the same so that I could then make them look more like drawings. . .) then play with the layer styles to make them look related without totally obscuring the background image. I think they turned out pretty neat.

So, I go to do the Bingo thing last night. I usually sell two different game sheets, and the money for these goes into separate boxes. However, people who are buying both usually give me a single bill to pay for them, so I need to make change and transfer money to the other box. It’s not such a big deal for me, but last night we had about 30 more people than we usually do, different jackpots, and a couple of new games. Even the cranky people still got smiles and thank-yous from me - and believe me, some of these people seem to be so stressed out by every little thing that you wonder why they even come.

Well, we get to one game, and a woman asks me how it’s played - it’s one where you have to get two bingos in two separate squares, but I don’t play this game, so we had some regulars yelling at me from the back that I was explaining it wrong. This table is our crankiest by far, but I figured I’d head over there and be all agreeable and let them explain it to me. I did this knowing it was probably a bad idea. There are certain sacrifices we disgustingly nice people have to make.

So this little group starts telling me that it’s two bingos in a column but they can be rows or columns or diagonal but it has to be two out of three and they can be in different columns but they all have to be in the same column and I’m saying wait, they don’t have to have two B columns or two N columns, so what columns are they talking about and they start screaming at me two out of the three, not the columns, it’s two bingos in the same column but they don’t have to be up and down!!! Holy crap, it could have been a comedy routine about people who don’t know how to explain things, but it wasn’t funny. I smiled and said that as long as they all knew how to play it, then we wouldn’t have to worry about anyone getting it wrong, and as I walked away they began talking about me to each other. “How can someone be that stupid?” “She’s so stupid she can’t even understand Bingo!” Mmm-hmmm. Smart enough to know the difference between stupid and deaf, which would put me a step ahead of them. . .

As it turns out, a rational person explained to me that the two bingos could go any way in two separate boxes, but that the boxes on the sheet were arranged in three rows and two columns - therefore, a bingo in row one, column one and another in row three, column two wouldn’t win, but any two rows in the same column of boxes would. Aha! Believe me, I’ve been spending enough time with Excel to know what rows and columns are, but when I see a grid, the rows and columns within that grid are the first thing I think of!

Oh, the things I would love to say and/or do to these people! The huge, steaming piles of snarkiness I could unload on them in one fell swoop! What a thrill to contemplate an act of revenge, delivered with the unbesmirchable sweetness I have perfected through years of practice! But no, what about an actual snub, a wise and witty retort guaranteed to cut them off at the knees? Why, they’d never see it coming! Perhaps I could be too stupid to be able to sell them eight of each game and give them correct change for a fifty? Maybe some choice phrases from several different languages uttered before them, followed by a sugary “Oh, you don’t know Latin? I’m so sorry. . .” The direct, in-your-face confrontation enumerating some concrete differences in our levels of intelligence and/or education just to see who exactly is stupid around here. The possibilities were swirling through my head, tempting and intoxicating.

Let’s get real, though. These people come every week, and spend an embarrassing amount of money that helps support the band. I have to deal with them only once every four weeks, and for such a short time in the grand scheme of things. On top of that, I am unaware of anyone who would find them a credible source of character judgement - I don’t have to worry about getting a reputation for stupidity on their say-so. Whatever I might fantasize about doing would never have any positive result in real life.

Still. . .I might just have trouble adding and subtracting money next month. Just a teensy little bit, and I’ll be really, really, really nice about it. . .

2008 06 03 Alison Rants
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Finding Your Cat

I’ve been inspired by Dave’s return to start a Yahoo group for reuniting cats with their families. I don’t know if it’ll take off, or even help, but I hope people will have at least a few good results from it. Here’s the link: Ocean County Cats Lost and Found

I think I’ll write a letter to the Asbury Park Press telling the story. . .I know there are other people out there wishing they could find their missing cats.

2008 05 27 Alison Cats Comments (0) Permalink

Alison Blogs Here

A Sad Way to Start a Birthday.

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Congo Attacks Again

I Hate All Kinds of Marketing. . .

Smart Carpet on Notice. . .

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Finding Your Cat

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