wordinista: (Carpe martini)

Well, after completely losing my temper at the place that misdiagnosed my car for $105, I'm getting half the money refunded.  (I think this marks the first time in my life that anyone has said they'd hang up on me if I continued to swear at them.  This may give an idea as to just how much I lost my cool.)

Apparently, after they misdiagnosed the problem, and I took it to the dealership on their recommendation, I was supposed to somehow psychicially surmise that they would have performed a fuel injector flush for free and then get someone to drive me out to the dealership so I could fetch my car, and then take it BACK to them so they could perform this service.  So somehow this is my fault because I didn't take the car BACK to them after the dealership disagreed with their diagnosis.  What the fuck -- I'm supposed to drive my car over hell's half-acre, thereby inconveniencing myself and my family in the process?  PLEASE.

Oh, and after a fuel injector flush and a new fuel injector, the car still has a rough idle.  So, after $969 in repairs, the problem still isn't completely solved.  Next phone call I have to make is to the dealership.

Is it too early in the day for a martini?

In somewhat more positive news, I finally finished knitting my first scarf yesterday.  Pictures will come once I've figured out how to get it off the knitting needle.  (Let's just never mind that I've been working on this scarf for nearly two years.)  It is v. pretty and fuzzy, and I'm feeling quite accomplished in that regard.

Ngh.  I want to go back to bed.

EDIT:  God, I just keep thinking about that jackass and his jackassy PATRONIZING TONE and I want to HIT THINGS.  I think that's why I'm so blindingly pissed right now.  He was just so condescending.  Oh, and he asked me if I got the old parts from my car back.  WTF?  SORRY, ASSHOLE, I DIDN'T REALIZE THAT I WAS GOING TO NEED TO BE COLLECTING EVIDENCE TO GET MY CAR FIXED.  WHAT, ARE YOU THE CSI OF CAR REPAIR OR SOMETHING?

...I have now succeeded in giving myself a headache.  WTG, me.
wordinista: (Bunneh has had quite enough kthx)

Dear Independent Auto Repair Shops,

Please DIAF.

Love and Kisses,


Dear Dealership Service Center,

Do not think for a moment that I actually trust you, or believe you're "on my side."  And so help me, if you find ONE MORE THING that NEEDS TO BE FIXED OMG, I will buy a baseball bat for the sole purpose of introducing it to your collective kneecaps.

Love and Kisses,



About four months ago, the car was running really rough.  It seemed to shudder a lot, and struggled to get up to speed.  The check engine light was coming on and off intermittently.  I was getting a less-than-fuzzy feeling about my normal repair shop, so I went with a AAA-certified place that was also nearby.  Four days and $400 later, I had a new Ignition Control Module and a new battery, and on the way home the check engine light came on again.  I wasn't in a rush to take it back to that place, so I considered it an expensive lesson and tolerated the crappy perfomance until we could afford to get the car back into the shop.

On Wednesday, I took the car to our old repair shop.  I told them it was running rough, misfiring, and it felt like it was on the verge of stalling out at stop lights.  I also mentioned that there was a squeal coming from either the brakes or power steering, and if they could see which was the problem, that'd be swell.

$105 dollars later, they told me that they heard no such squeal, and that the diagnostic report showed the problem to be my PCM (power control module -- basically the car's main computer, as I understand it).  Luckily, the PCM was covered under dealership warranty for 8 years or 80,000 miles, and they recommended I take it to the dealership, otherwise to replace such a part could run about $800.  So, I took the car to the dealership (I hate dealership service departments and avoid them like the plague).  They asked me if the mechanic was CERTAIN the problem was in the PCM, and I said, yes, the mechanic was certain (because I asked him if he was sure).  So let's make this clear right now:  I never would have set foot in the dealership service bay, if not for the recommendation of the other mechanic.

The dealership ran another diagnostic.

It wasn't the PCM.  EVIDENTLY the problem was an issue of "low flow" in the fuel injection, which meant I either had a clog, or a bad fuel injector.  They could run a test to determine which it was ($150).  I got a phone call from the dealership saying, YAY, it was just a clog!  They could run a fuel injection flush for another $100. 

Oh, and by the way?  The squeal that the previous shop said wasn't there?  The dealership found that there was about an eight of an inch left on my front brake pads.  SO, HEY, TIME FOR NEW BRAKES.

So, at this point, after labor and everything, I was looking at a $700 repair bill.  High, but still workable.  BUT THEN the dealership called back.  Evidently, the clog was so bad that the flush didn't work, and they needed to put a new fuel injector in there anyway.  BUT GOOD NEWS: the manager was going to pay for the part, and all I had to pay was the labor.  Which bumped my repair bill up to $969.22.  This is not workable. 

I called the auto shop that "fixed" the car for $400 in May, and spoke to the owner -- very good customer service skills there.  In his words, "We're very sorry that we were unable to solve your problem, and would like any chance to make this right by you."  So I'll be talking with them more today.  The shop that performed the $105 "diagnostic" that sent me to the dealership in the first place?  Not so willing to do right by me, and I am THIS CLOSE to putting a stop payment order on the check, because I do not see why I should pay money for bad advice that essentially sends me somewhere to get bent over a barrel.  I will be talking with them more about this issue (translation:  I will make a goddamn pest of myself until they give me a refund just to make me go away).

Hopefully the first place will be able to give me even a partial refund that can help offset the cost of this current repair bill (because if they'd diagnosed the problem correctly four months ago, I could've had a fuel injector flush and be done with it).

I just want the car to run right.  Is that too much to ask? 


wordinista: (ARGH!)
Tell me there's a special level in hell for auto mechanics.

wordinista: (Sure Fine Whatever)
Okay, so.  Every now and again I get the urge to peruse job sites, because OMG some days I really, really do not enjoy working for the ol' family business.  Scratch that -- most days I don't en...

Okay, let's be real:  I kinda hate it.  All the time.  Always.  There is not one single aspect I like about it, other than the "getting paid" part.

So, I poked around on Monster, and found a faculty position at a school over in Winter Park.  Looks... pretty much tailor-made for me, and I sent my resume off, even though Winter Park is, like, over an hour away.  So, assuming I get an interview, and assuming they consider me, and assuming A WHOLE LOT OF OTHER STUFF, the money would have to be worth the gas and tolls it would take to get there.

Anyway, I'm over at Mom's house, giving her the inventory sheets I was working on, and she mentioned... something. I don't even remember how it came up, but I wound up telling her about the job.

I really should know better than to do stupid things like that.  Because I got hit with everything from "The tolls will be very expensive!" to "You'll need to get a new car!"  to "But what about the gas money?"  to "What are you going to do with the dogs?" to "Are you sure you'll be able to handle an 8 hour day with that kind of commute?"  --Like ALL OF THOSE THINGS haven't crossed my mind already.  I don't know anything about the job, other than the fact that it's a faculty position in the English department for this school.  It requires a Masters Degree, and there's a hint of administrative stuff that will likely go along with the teaching stuff.  I don't know what the schedule would be, I don't know what the pay would be, and I don't know whether the job would be worth taking SHOULD THEY OFFER IT TO ME.

I hate it when she does that.  Hate.  It.  Because I swear she does it just because she likes getting the extra help with the grunt work, without thinking, Hey, maybe my daughter would like to do something remotely related to her degree that she spent an extra two years getting.  She KNOWS I've been feeling really down about not doing work related to my degree, and that I've been feeling like getting my graduate degree was an utter waste of time if I'm basically going to end up being a stay-at-home mom to two dogs.  And it drives me CRAZY when I preface something with, "I have no idea the details of the job, but here it is..." and then she hits me with a barrage of questions about it.

wordinista: (Kyou Wrath)
Okay, so my horoscope did turn out to be right.

Dear Satan Microsoft,

Here's a clue.  When someone's free trial download expires, and you want that someone to buy the permanent version of that software, maybe you should try SENDING THEM to the download link that downloads the software they had the trial version of.  Because the version of Money 2007 I downloaded and paid for is not the exact same identical version I was using for my trial.  Funny how the trial version didn't tell me which version it was, either.  I know, because I looked.  So now I'm stuck with financial software that I have already paid for, only to find that it's not the same software, AND CANNOT ACCESS MY SAVED FINANCIAL INFORMATION.

And evidently I cannot just pay to upgrade the software to the right version.

And I am not paying your support service thirty-five dollars to figure this out.

We had better goddamn well be able to resolve my issue.  Because I?  I am not a happy camper right now.

Love and Arsenic-Kisses,
wordinista: (I need a vacation)
Dude.  There is no excuse.  No. Excuse.  For a 10 year old child being completely unable to read.  I'm talking "has a hard time identifying which sounds go with which letters" unable-to-read.

And you know what?  It wouldn't be so bad if the kid actually cared and actually wanted to work, but oh my sweet monkey jebus, getting this kid to do work is like pulling teeth.  From a rock.

Actual dialogue from work tonight:

Me:  "So here we've got the letter combination 'sm.'"
Kid:  "Yeah."
Me:  "Can you tell me any words that begin with 'sm'?"
Kid:  *long, long pause, during which time he looks all around the class, then periodically back to me to see if I'm still paying attention; I AM*  ...I dunno.  Whatever.
Me:  *counts to ten, stays positive*  What do you do when someone takes a picture of you?
Kid:  Oh.  Uh.  Smile.

NO JOKE.  This went on for the first whole hour of the session.  Mind you, I'm meant to be dividing my time up equally among 3 kids.  This one was SUCH a time-sucker.  I'd ask him to do something while I worked with the other kids, and when I got back to him, he'd done nothing.  And when I say, "do something" it's like, "Please write down three words that begin with the letters 'st.'"

Me:  "...You haven't done any of your work yet?"
Kid:  "Yeah, I don't know how to do it."
Me:  ".............."

wordinista: (Hatori Idiot - creds to linachu)
No one will understand the relevance of this, even for one second.  This is me bitching about an idiot in a non-fandom-related forum.  Said forum is very easygoing and laid-back, and more or less completely wank-free, so I am not going to bitch there.  But I need to let off some steam. 


Know that I haven't lost my marbles completely; I'm just mentally beating someone about the head with a trout.



There.  I feel better now.  ^^;;
wordinista: (Lil Barnabas)

I never realized there were so many places I'd need to change my name.

For instance: the veterinary clinic and pharmacy.

Adventures in Name Changing! )

Also, today the Miami Hurricanes will be announcing their new head coach: 'Canes defensive coordinator, Randy Shannon.  I have mixed feelings about this.  On the one hand, Randy Shannon is an unbelievable defensive coordinator, and he was the one I was hoping would get the job.  He's been with the team for years, and was brought in when Butch Davis was rebuilding the team while they were on sanctions.  He also played for the 'Canes, back in the day.  He's awesome.

However, I'm worried about him.  Miami is a difficult city, full of fair-weather fans and pundits who always seem to know better than whoever's in charge.  The Miami Hurricanes haven't been able to hold onto a coach for more than five years in a row since Howard Schnellenberger.  It's a tough gig, and unfortunately the university (I think) is giving themselves a bad reputation because of this.  Jimmy Johnson hung around for five years, then went and coached the Cowboys.  Dennis Erickson (ohgod, awful, awful coach) went to Seattle and is now, I think, in San Francisco (wherever he is, he's surely sucking the life out of the team -- The 49'ers suck right now, so I'd bet he is in fact there).  Butch Davis was, in my opinion, the best coach the 'Canes had of them all (wtf, Butch, you ditched the 'Canes for the fucking Browns after 4 or 5 seasons, and after assuring the team you weren't leaving, and now you're at North Carolina after coaching the Browns for 4 or 5 seasons).  And then Larry Coker (Larry, Larry, Larry -- you're not a bad coach, you're just too nice a guy.  You're too nice.  And those kids ran all over you.), who coached the team for six seasons.  I liked Larry -- I did.  I do like Larry.  I just don't think he's a great fit for the 'Canes.  Those kids need a hardass coach, and I believe Randy Shannon will be that hardass coach.

I just hope he hangs around for more than five years. 


Oct. 31st, 2006 06:59 pm
wordinista: (Bunny Devil)
Dear Little Child Who Just Rang My Doorbell and Got The Bejesus Scared Out Of You By My Patchwork Cujo,

Uh, did I miss something, or did they change the whole "Only Trick or Treat at the Houses Where Porch Lights Are ON" rule?  I'm sorry, but there have been too many Halloweens where I have spent a small mint on candy, only to have it gone un-trick-or-treated.  Or whatever.  Please do not look at me like I am the Grinch that stole your Fun-Sized Snickers when I tell you as politely as I can, while my dog is barking like a moron in the background, that we aren't doing candy this year.  THINGS HAVE BEEN A LITTLE BUSY.

Also, what was that costume?  A demonic pirate cheerleader?  Bzuh? 

Grouchily yours,
wordinista: (Hatori Idiot - creds to linachu)
I'm trying very hard not to verbally smack a few people on the Aussie Forum. 

No matter how much they seem to deserve it.

1.  Photo contests should have rules.  Having a panel of judges (or forum mods) narrow down the entries is not "unfair," and bitching about it is making you sound like a whiny little brat.

2.  Deleted posts does not censorship make.  Particularly when said posts were placed in a thread that was for photos only and not discussion of said photos.

3.  Splitting and moving threads in a PHPbb forum is NOT as easy and clear-cut as everyone likes to think.  I don't know what anyone else thinks about PHPbb, but I always hated splitting and moving threads.

4.  Saying, "When I hear a good idea from the mods I'll be the first one to praise them for it" really is enough to make you sound like an asshat.  Really.  You may not mean to sound like an asshat, but you do anyway. Trust me on this.

5.  Insisting that "September is at the end of summer, so summer themed pictures should be acceptable" after the rules have clearly stated that the contest is for a FALL THEMED PICTURE makes you sound like an idiot.  Really.

*takes a very deep breath and contemplates some tea*

For serious -- those guys over there are so, so very lucky that I am not a mod or an admin.  Because at this point, they'd be getting a hefty dose of Tough Bunneh Love ("STFU and quit your whining, you godless heathens!"), and they'd probably all hate me for it.
wordinista: (DEMON CAT!)
Have I  mentioned how much I hate group work?  'Cos I do.  I hate it a lot.  In fact, I hate it so much that it's almost enough to make me lapse into a hissing, gravelly Gollum voice, about how much we "hateses it, the groupsie work, we do, Precious."

Cut for Bunneh bitching about group work... )
wordinista: (Mayu: Why me?)
There'd be days like these, my mama said.


Okay, universe -- I give up.  I surrender.  I yield.  You win.


Cut for whining and general fist-shaking, directed at the sky )
wordinista: (sad bunneh)

Why is it that the one guy who wasn't in class on Monday did a better job on his part of the assignment than the guy who WAS? (And the woman who had LASIK surgery and ISP issues this week has my sympathy.  She sounds like she's at the end of her tether.)

The assignment should be pretty simple: Through a demographic analysis, determine the target market for your product/service. Discuss the selection process for this target group and justify its selection through your market research program.  Identify any secondary markets that might be pursued after the intitial target market is successfully penetrated.  Prepare a 3-5 page double-spaced report discussing your findings.

Our demographic consists of professionals between the ages of 40 and 60. We can appeal to "empty nesters," retirees, and parents. The group split up the assignment so we all had one area to concentrate on (mine was retirees). Mister Thorn-in-My-Side did families. Selection process and justification, in my mind, does not mean you type up what essentially looks like an advertising flyer and email it to me:

Active families enjoy better health. Now is the time to help your family get the most out of life. Help them be active-and be active with them!

Join our new health fitness center and enjoy a variety of exciting plans!

(That's not the whole document, but you get the general idea.)


...That's soooo not what the assignment asked for. Is it so hard to follow directions? I mean, really. I don't feel like rewriting his crap. But I do feel like getting a good grade, so... I guess I'm going to be doing a little creative editing.

And why in the HELL is it the friggin' LIT PERSON who's understanding this stuff? I'M the one who's supposed to be lost here! Gah!!

wordinista: (Why me?)
So the tile guys finished the job yesterday, except they have to come back today to do the grouting. They're not here yet, shock.

But what they're doing today isn't the problem. It's what they did yesterday. See, the tile guys tiled the bathroom yesterday, and in order to do that, had to take out the commode.

Leaving a big fat HOLE in the middle of our bathroom. A hole that leads, gosh oh golly, DOWN TO THE SEWER.

Fun with idiocy... )

EDIT: 10:45 am -- GRAR. My landlady just popped by (I hate that they do that), and was telling me that the plumber can't get here until between 2:00 and 5:00 to put the toilet back and UNHOOK THE WATER HEATER SO THE TILE GUYS CAN TILE UNDERNEATH THE WATER HEATER.

Possibly leaving us without hot fucking water.

And I was like, "Uh, yeah. That's a problem. George leaves for work at seven in the morning."

"Well, you could shower at your mom's house, or come over to my house."

And I'm thinking, Did you not hear what I just said?

George? Has not the best temper in the world. George is also righteously pissed because he had a lousy night's sleep last night. If I tell my tora-chan that we're not going to have hot water for... oh, however long?

I do not even want to consider the fallout.

So, I'm trying to make this clear to my landlady, who seems not to be the brightest bulb in the box, and she's like, "Well, those are the inconveniences we have to live with."


Edit: 10:56 am -- Yep. George is pissed.
wordinista: (bunneh of dooooooom)
Tile Guys: If you need to move the stove and refrigerator to DO YOUR JOB, then move the stove and refrigerator. Do not come to me and say, "We need to move the refrigerator and the stove."

Just. MOVE IT. Move it, lay the tile, and GO. GO AWAY. GRAR.


EDIT: Tile Guys: Please, if you need to use the restroom, use it. The baby gate is a precaution so that the animals in the house will not run OUT of the house. It is not a fixture from an Indiana Jones movie. It does not require a special key to get past. Step over it. Do not stare at it as if it holds the key to the universe. Step over it, and go use the restroom. I'm trying to grade, here.

EDIT: Tile Guys: So help me god, if you left the refrigerator unplugged, I'm gonna be hella pissed.

EDIT: 3:40 PM: Huzzah! The tile guys are gone! The kitchen, dining room, and bathroom are tiled! The refrigerator was not unplugged! The godawful racket is GONE. They're coming back tomorrow to grout. Grouting I can handle. How bad can that be?

*toddles off for more Midol*
wordinista: (all this... and brains too!)
I'm going to regret it, but I have to go grocery shopping. On a Saturday. What's wrong with me?

Yesterday was a good day, despite the lack of grading I got done. I went to bed at 1:30 and got up at 6:00 (not by my choice), and ended up not going back to bed, which was dumb. But on the up-side, we got a new dishwasher, and I got a haircut. I asked this lovely women (to whom I have been a client for about ten years) to jazz up my current hairstyle a bit. Current hairstyle, if you're morbidly curious, was supershort in the back around my neck, and then something like an asymmetrical bob -- longer in the front than in the back. So, she cut the back until it was VERY short (boy short), and then made the angles a little sharper from back to front, and made it even more asymmetrical by making the left side shorter than the right (I part my hair on the left). I was very happy with the result, and it's making me want to get a couple of foils done in the front -- maybe after school's out.

Actually, once school is out, I'm also thinking about getting a second tattoo. I can't believe it's been a year since I got the one on my ankle (nearly a year, anyway). I still love it to pieces, and have been known to peek in mirrors as I walk by them, just to catch a glimpse of my ankle in action. ;) This time around, I think I'm going to get the "tora" kanji on my lower back. George is a tiger, and I'd much rather have that than his name written on my person, because ... well, I'm not fond of that look. But I think after eleven years together (eleven years in August), it's safe to have something representing him inked onto my body. But it's obscure enough to still be okay if (godforbid) we ever split up.

Yes, I think of things like that. I know all too well that people change, no matter how long you know them. I'm the emotional realist in the relationship, and George is the emotional idealist. If he were here, he'd probably whap me on the back of the head for even THINKING of such a thing as splitting up. Ah well.

Had our final exam review for Renaissance class -- I'm really not that worried about the final, but I DO have to re-read Edward II. Correction: I have to find a COPY of the play. The prof assigned it to us on a website, and I'm too easily distracted on the computer to read Marlow without, oh, clicking off to LJ-land. Unfortunately, none of the big chains have much in the way of Marlowe. Books-a-Million had NOTHING -- in fact, the woman working there just sort of gave me a blank stare when I asked about him. And then she made me repeat his name. Three times.

Me: "Marlowe. Christopher Marlowe. Elizabethan playwright and poet. Compared to Shakespeare."

Clerk: "Oh! Our Shakespeare section is right over there!" *points*

Me: "No, no, no. I didn't say it WAS Shakespeare. I said he was COMPARED to Shakespeare."

Clerk: "....Well, you could check it anyway, in case he got shelved with Shakespeare."

Me: *facepalm*

Needless to say, there was no Marlowe.

Then I went to Barnes and Noble, and... well, they at least had Dr. Faustus. One copy of it. *sigh* (They did, however, have these new-fangled editions of Shakespearean plays that have the original text on one page, and the text translated into layspeak on the other, and it'd be very tempting to incorporate that into my class when I teach Othello. I'd have to pick a copy up to see for myself.)

Soooo, I don't have time to order it from Amazon, but I could probably find it at the college library -- but frankly, I'd rather have my own copy. So I think I may try a couple of the smaller, independent bookstores. There's one down by the beach that I've only visited once, but when I went inside, it was like I'd died and gone to heaven.

Hmm. I'm now in the mood to go back. Right now. Except... yeah. Must still go grocery shopping, dammit.


Apr. 14th, 2005 04:46 pm
wordinista: (you drive me INSANE)
I hate, hate, hate, HATE it when family members "look" for me on AIM or MSN messenger.

Are you there?
Helloooo? Are you THERE?
Where are you? Why aren't you answering me?
Where aaaaare you? Huh? How come you're not answering?
Are you there yet? Are you back?

And so on. I also hate it when someone calls my cell phone, and I don't answer for one reason or another (I'm teaching a class, or I'm in the SHOWER, or I'm driving and don't want to cause an accident), and then they complain that I'm "so hard to get a hold of."

And, honestly, is it truly necessary to leave me long, detailed voicemails that ramble on for five minutes? I've stopped listening after 30 seconds. Tell me who you are, and what you want, and I'll call you back. Some woman called about wanting to check our sprinkler system, and just... rambled. And it was annoying. If you want me to make sure to let you in, FINE. But you don't have to give me a detailed history about how long you've been doing sprinkler maintenance on the house!

And while I'm bitching, can I just say that when a certain Significant Other O' Mine tells me he "doesn't care" how long it takes us to get all the boxes gone, and get settled into the new place, and when I LISTEN to that advice, it means I'm not going to take kindly to it when he compares how long it's taking us (me) to get us settled into the new place to how long it took us (me) to get us settled into the old place (about 3 weeks).

I kid you not:

Him: "You know, you got everything put away, and the apartment feeling like a home in, like, under a month."

Me: "Yeah. And I wasn't working OR taking classes over the summer. Remember that part?"

And Mom just called. Sounds like grampa's having an adverse reaction to his pain meds; she's taking him to the ER. (He went in for another surgery on Tuesday -- his growth had started to return, and they needed to get all of it gone before they can start radiation).

AND, the girls are spraying things. Must. Get. Them. SPAYED. (Please, please don't tell me it won't help the situation after the fact, because with the mood I'm in right now, telling me that might make me do something rash -- like taking them to the SPCA.)

*deep breath in*

*deep breath out*

How can I be in such a foul mood on a day off? I don't get it.


wordinista: (Default)

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