We interrupt your previously scheduled Happy Fun Empress with Angry Pissed Off Empress. This is not a test.
COCKSUCKER.
Dear Jackhole -
Hi. I'm the one that's been calling and emailing you about this goddamned tax credit for WEEKS. You have not once called or emailed ME back. You call or email Boss. And tell Boss what's wrong and what needs to be changed. Boss then calls me and asks "WTF? Why can't you talk to Jackhole?" I AM SICK OF IT.
I don't know if you have a problem with me because I have tits and a vertical smile or if you are just an asshole. Either way, get over yourself and start fucking communicate with me. I am prefectly pleasant (when not in the throes of anger) and will listen and follow advice. But the more you don't contact me and force my boss to be the go-between, the angrier I'm gonna get. Srsly. And fuck you very much.
No love a'tall.
Aimee, The Very Angry Empress
We now return you to your regularly scheduled Happy Fun Empress.
I like pink! And glitter! Let's dance!
And Boss?
The next time Jackhole calls you and tells you things need to be changed, why don't you ask him, "Have you called Aimee?" and if he says "No." THEN TELL HIM TO CALL ME.
It's called backing up your employees. Learn it.
That was the brightest spot of my day yesterday. Me and my princess watching superheroes.
So far, that's the brightness spot of my day today.
It really was adorable. They were both all snuggled up under the sheep blanket.
"God took mercy on her and let her come live in a Christian home."
So all the babies that didn't get adopted should be named, "Doomed"?
Reminds me of a
Family Circus
cartoon that I hate above all others.
In one pannel, one of the kids is praying that God keep his family safe. In the next pannel you see a sterotypical burgler (who's trying to get into their window) being apprehended by the police.
So I guess God is just less likely to answer prayers from high-crime neighborhoods. Or mabye the trouble with people in thos neighborhoods is they don't pray enough....
Quick relief ~ma for omnis.
Yay askye!
Customer support is my main function at work, but I have the easiest customers in the world. (with a few exceptions) Mostly doctors or nurses call me. They are smart, already tried to figure it out, in a hurry so don't want to waste time, grateful when I fix it. I do have a couple whiny babies, (shrinks go figure), but for the most part they rock. They apologize for having to call and are relieved when I assure them it is always the computer's fault, never the user. (they know they screwed it up)
That was the brightest spot of my day yesterday. Me and my princess watching superheroes.
Oof. Too. Cute.
DH and I got into a huge argument last night. After getting up with the kids at six-freakin'-thirty-AM, I spent a normal day taking care of them, running Owen to school and picking up, doing three loads of laundry, making doctors' appointments and calling a plumber, making dinner, feeding the kids and bathing them ALL BEFORE HE GOT HOME at 6:30 p.m.
He got home, ate his dinner, went downstairs to watch Pardon the Interruption. The kids followed him into the playroom. Ten minutes later, I hear a commotion. DH comes upstairs holding a crayon and says (Hand to God, this is a direct quote), "Owen colored on the walls and I blame you because you didn't put the crayons up after craft time."
ME. The person who was on a different floor of the house. Not the parent who was THREE FEET AWAY FROM HIM when he was committing the offense.
I flipped out like a mammal.
After using a Magic Eraser to clean up the crayon. Best. Invention. Ever.
