linden_jay: (Baby is calm.)
Well. That was a giant clusterfuck of a night.

My parents always take the aliens on Wednesday evening... go for a walk in the stroller, show the babies off at Safeway, whatever, and they were worried about how wheezy The Frog was, and how badly he was coughing, and I decided okay, no more screwing around, and I took him to the walk in clinic. I figure that we go in, they say 'oh, it's a virus, blah blah blah' like the last two times, I go home, and I've just wasted some time, but gotten some peace of mind.

We got in, saw the doc, who'd been able to hear him coughing in the waiting room from way in the back, and she took one look at him, a quick listen to his breathing, and said that considering what time of night it was, and not being able to get to a pediatrician until tomorrow, she didn't want to screw around, so she sent us right to the ER. This is what happens when you've got an ear that looks red and horrible, and are coughing and wheezing like a smoker with a fifty year habit.

I stopped at home, grabbed a bag for him and myself, and went to the hospital. They treated him with Ventolin by mask, and checked his lungs in an hour, which were perfectly clear. He has congestion in the upper airway, complicated by a massive ear infection, which I can't believe hasn't had him screaming his fool head off. My wee one is a trooper.

We are now home with a prescription for antibiotics for his ear, an inhaler, and I swear, the phone number of every nurse and doctor (men and women) in that ER. He charmed them all. They thought he was awesome. I think it was the peekaboo with his blanket that put him over the top, plus the part where he only cried once, when the doctor looked in his ears.

So. Yeah. That was fun. *falls down goes boom*
linden_jay: (Get Fuzzy- Dear Lord Make it stop)
2010 is here, and thank fuck for that. Seriously. I have never had a year that I was so happy to see end as 2009, and I know it's been that way for a lot of people that I love. So goodbye, 2009. Don't let the door hit you where the good lord split you, as they say. I got two good things in 2009, and they're both sleeping right now, which is another thing I'm grateful for. I might do some of those retrospective things in the next day or so, if I can stop hissing at 2009 long enough to get them typed. But for tonight, at least:

The Bad )

The Good )

What's sad? I know I've missed some of the bad stuff, but I'm pretty sure that I got all of the good stuff.

Anyway--goodbye, 2009. You will not be missed.

*From my 2010 'The Daily Bitch' calendar, which I was given for Christmas by my mother in law. I love that our relationship is such that she can give me a Daily Bitch calendar, and she knows it'll make me laugh. I'm planning on using them as my status messages for the year, as I try and post more.
linden_jay: (Daniel Craig does not give a damn)
... my desktop just died. Will not turn on. Possible doorstop.

Fuck my life.
linden_jay: (Jared and his emo hoodie)
I've been out of sorts lately, behind in writing and posting and commenting and tagging in all the games that I'm in, on my journal, on my everywhere. And it's been bugging me and stressing me out when I realized that it's been since sometime in August since I've posted anything, and that I've got a few tags that have been lingering since spring. I hate that. I hate not being organized, and I really hate being behind. And then I started doing the math on things.

In May--there were those baby-creatures who showed up, and a twelve day hospital stay to go along with it.

Summer--baby things, combined with insanely hot temperatures that made doing anything just about impossible.

And then? August hit, and that's when things really fell apart. )
linden_jay: (Firefly- Drained of blood)
So, today, my aliens are being baptized. This is a special event in our church, and in our family, particularly the Academic husband's family, who have been Lutheran for as long as there have been Lutherans. We have godparents who have traveled a long way to be here for the service, his uncle is going to be doing the baptism, there's a dinner and stuff afterward, big deal stuff.

Despite being exhausted, I toss and turn from about 2:30 when I go to bed after baby feeding, until about 4:30 when the frog wants food. At 4:30am, I feed the frog. At 4:45am, I have sudden onset, acute, motherfucking OW FUCK OW pain right below my ribcage. Can't breathe kind of pain. Very similar to my birthday in London, oh, say four years ago. Signs point to gallbladder attack/gallstones. MOTHERFUCK.

I wake the Academic Husband, he drops me off at the hospital, runs the aliens to his parent's house. At 5:00am. I cry through intake from the pain, get put into a room fairly quickly, get an IV, get morphine.

I like morphine. Morphine is KEEN. But I'm still crying, because they're talking X-Rays, they're talking Ultrasounds, and they're talking noon at the earliest before I can get the ultrasound done.

The baptism is at 10:00am.

So we're scrambling, trying to find a video camera, trying to find someone who can record it for me if I'm stuck in the hospital, and in the meantime, I'm bargaining with nurses, trying to find out if I can leave now that my pain is controlled, just for two hours, just for enough time to see my babies get baptized. We're debating (at the nurse's suggestion) just signing me out against medical advice, if necessary, IV heplock still in my arm.

And the the doctor comes back and says that they'll do the ultrasound tomorrow, gives me a few tabs of Dilaudid, and says to come back if the pain gets uncontrollable again, but other than that, it can wait until tomorrow.

You're not supposed to get married under the influence... I wonder if there are rules against getting folk baptized under the influence. Because WOW am I loopy right now. Did I mention I like morphine?

It's only 8:15am right now, and I'm already so totally done with this day. SERIOUSLY. I am on freakin' narcotics, and I have not yet SLEPT fortheloveofMishaCollins.

PS. I like morphine.
linden_jay: (Firefly- Drained of blood)
There is a tornado warning for London Ontario right now.

This is Jay's trying not to freak the hell out face, thanks.

What on EARTH does one do during a tornado? Apart from, well... yeah, I've got nothing.

Somehow, I'm gonna find a way to blame this on Jerry Falwell.
linden_jay: (Canucks)
I swear to God... my team is trying to kill me.

ETA: Oh man, thank FREAKIN' hell, we WON, but I swear, for awhile there, I really didn't think we were gonna pull it off. I've had my heart broken by my team way, way too many times to believe that they'll show up when they're supposed to, particularly when they could have put this series away two games earlier if they'd bothered to show up to play.

Hockey. Not for the faint of heart. Plus, I was so anxious I just about barfed on the carpet. AH was laughing at me pretty hard there. Poor bastard's a Calgary fan, not so much with the sympathy for me last night.
linden_jay: (Buffy BLEAH)
This could not be a bigger pain in my ass if it tried. SERIOUSLY.

All right, so as it stands right now, we are selling everything that isn't a book, a DVD, a cd, a photo album, or absolutely irreplaceable. Every stick of furniture, every piece of clothing that we don't regularly wear, all of it. As well, it looks like right now, the most likely method of shipping our stuff? By greyhound. That's right, we're going to move an entire apartment's worth of stuff (what's left anyway) by bus. It's just quite simply the most cost-effective alternative.

The price for shipping companies is insane--upwards of $4000, because it's going so far that there's a minimum payment in affect before the regular shipping costs kick in--and that's before we fly ourselves home. If we drive anything that far, they have to pay to fly someone out there and drive it back, which factors into the cost. Again, well over $4000, plus gas, plus hotels, plus food, so really, more into $5000+. So fine. Box everything up well, tape the crap out of it, ship it by Greyhound five or so boxes at a time. Not the end of the world.

Oh, except that they will not insure electronics for anything even close to what they're worth. And we have two computers. Awesome. So, I'm trying to find out the best way to ship two computers and a monitor (and my sewing machine--I forgot that, damn it!) across five provinces.

So--does anyone have any particular courier (operating in Canada, please) that they'd like to recommend, or that they've had a bad experience with? Because right now, it's looking like Purolator or UPS or something like that.

Have I mentioned how much I despise and loathe moving? A lot? *cries*.

OMG Flood!

Mar. 9th, 2006 05:51 pm
linden_jay: (Skeletor- bitch please)
Oh, how I wish I were kidding.

Let me tell you about my day... )
linden_jay: (Skeletor- bitch please)
Fell asleep. Just past 4am. Pretty good night for me, really, crashing that early.

5:30 am.

Loki: Starts whining. And whimpering. And crying. And doing everything that says 'Please, Daddy-AH, let me out of my crate, 'cause I have to pee right now, I know I never bother you this early except every other morning when I do, but please please please let me out and if you could feed me too that'd be really nice please please please please *whimperwhimperwhine bang paws against metal crate*

Jay: *lies very very still and silent between hissed yells at puppy to 'shut the fuck up for the love of sweet crispy Christ, looks at the AH*

AH: *is dead to the world from weekend and evening of marking ridiculously bad student papers.*

Loki: *continues as aforementioned*

Jay: *waits as long as possible, absolutely cannot fucking take it, gets up, lets puppy out of crate, storms outside with AH's boots and a hoodie on over duckie jammies, holds Loki by the collar and order him to 'fucking pee goddamn you'

Loki: *finds position of Mommy-Jay with hand at collar to be confusing and undignified, despite formerly mentioned need to pee. Sits down and stares up with big adorable stupid eyes*

Jay: *drags his ass back inside, gets goddamned leash, takes him back outside

Loki: Promptly leaps a few paces, almost dragging Jay into the snow, and proceeds to make the snow all yellow.*

Jay: *drags his ass BACK inside, shuts his ass BACK in the crate, gets back into bed with a giant huff, lays down.

*two minutes later*

Jay: Is wide fucking awake. 90 minutes sleep- go me. So. Not. Impressed. So- anyone want a dog?
linden_jay: (Orlando- love is not a victory march)
Was I not clear? Y'know, on the whole "Please nothing else" thing? Was that not... y'know- I just didn't think that was that difficult a concept, really.

Things come in threes, right? That's how it works... so technically, I should be done.

1) My grandmother (who had breast cancer when I was in my early teens, had a mastectomy, and survived it) has a malignant tumor on her back. She's having it removed sometime in the next few days... and my parents have known for over 2 weeks that she was sick and only told me a couple days ago. (They do expect that she will fully recover from it- it's not spread anywhere else and is just contained to the one area, but... still. Cancer. Again. This happens a lot in my family.)

2) Student Loans. See here. 'Nuff said.

3) Didn't get the Stratford job.
linden_jay: (Get Fuzzy- Dear Lord Make it stop)
Every single time I have applied for interest relief, (ie- not paying back my student loans until I can actually afford the payments) they have screwed it up. Without exception- every single time. And I have to reapply every six months. Why, why, why oh why did I think this application would be any different? )
linden_jay: (Get Fuzzy- Dear Lord Make it stop)
... and I'm dreading it.

I mean, lord only knows that at the best of times, I'm really not all that thrilled to be there, but I'm really not looking forward to going back tomorrow. I booked a bunch of time off to move, then, as I wrote about last time, I ended up getting disgustingly sick, and had to have the Academic Husband call me in sick all five shifts I was supposed to work last week. The first four of those, I could hardly even move, I felt so crappy. And I still feel crappy, but no longer crappy enough that I can justify calling in sick... unless the cough that I've developed decides to turn into bronchitus like it does every 6-15 months, but that's a whole 'nother kettle of lampshades.

The general rule at work is that you're supposed to call yourself in sick, and that they give you a list of phone numbers to find someone else to work for you- which I think is a stupid assed thing in the first place. To paraphrase... I think it was Angie, if you're sick, you're not coming in anyway, whether you can find someone to take your shift or not, so it's just sheer laziness on their part to try and make you find the person to cover you. If you just want the day off- absolutely. Find your own cover. But for a sick day? Bitch please.

Dear god, I'm still going... )
linden_jay: (Buffy BLEAH)
Okay- if you don't want to hear me bitch about the past week+ since I moved, bail out now people, because I've gone rantwards.

Carpet and tile and flooding and back pain and and and... )
linden_jay: (Missy)
Okay- before I go into full on rant mode, I can say that my anniversary was lovely, I got Firefly and he got season one of Batman- the Animated Series, and we had a really great dinner and evening out before coming back to pack.

Now, I'm gonna scream.

The people who live in the place we're moving into were evicted for stuff to do with their dog, which was, I believe, a big old disturbance, plus messy and stuff. I don't know the details, but I do know that it was a big part of the reason they had to leave. I also knew that the dog had done some damage to the place and the carpets, but I was imagining that in the scratching them up sense. Turns out, not so much. Was more of a biological issue.

And the carpet is destroyed. )
linden_jay: (Buffy BLEAH)
So, I work box office and as an usher for a twelve screen movie theatre in a largish city in Ontario, Canada. I don’t know how ratings systems work worldwide, but in Canada (Ontario at least) it goes like this: Cut for Rating explanation and mass sarcasm re: inforcement of ID policies... )

[Cross-posted to [ profile] customers_suck]
linden_jay: (alliterator- buffy bleah)
Okay, so this is the first I've been able to get online since my computer blinked out talking to Lex two days ago. It didn't work, 15 minutes ago, then when I logged in to type a nice post for the AH to put up to tell y'all that I'm not dead... it decided to work. But who knows if it'll work in five hours, or even five minutes.

So... I'm not dead, I miss you all, and I'll be back as soon and as often as this crappy ass internet connection will let me.

*snugs everyone*

[And in case anyone couldn't guess, the pups are sulking big time huge. They blame me. Bloody pups *sigh*]


linden_jay: (alliterator- buffy bleah)
Okay, first off let me stress what I’m not ranting about. I’m not ranting about OTP’s (One True Pairings). People have them, and that’s great. Personally, I don’t, although I have a few individuals and pairings that I particularly like, and a few that - in general - I avoid. But I am way too big of a pairings slut courtesan to be faithful and true to one pairing only, and every time I jump up and down and swear that I will never EVER read a character or a pairing or a genre, some talented rat bastard goes and writes something that blows me out of the water and makes a complete liar out of me.

Because I have been addicted to trusted particular writers, I have to admit to both reading and loving among the following: Lurtz/Legolas, various incarnations of pantsless Ian McKellen *glares at [ profile] abundantlyqueer, then snugs her and her fics anyway- pantsless Ian and all*, and Viggo/Orlando Mpreg that made me laugh, cry and believe by [ profile] chaosmanor and [ profile] jasmineskie

And I’m not even trying to push the philosophy of ‘try it - you might like it’. God knows my parents have been trying that one on me to get me to eat vegetables, and if it hasn’t worked yet, I don’t expect it to now, so I’m not going to go there on anyone. So, despite the length of what I’ve just written on this- I promise I’m not writing this to judge people who have an OTP.

So what the hell am I babbling about anyway?

My problem is with people who feedback a particular story and say ‘I don’t like this story because I don’t like the pairing’.  )
linden_jay: (Default)
...Not that I've seen it. Not even a bit of it really, not a scene, not a line, not a moment. Even though I've worked every shift since it opened, and I'll be working straight through the weekend- and by the way- it's a holiday weekend in Canada. Holiday weekend + Star Wars + working at a movie theatre on Box Office = Hell. And I've decided to blame it all on George Lucas and the whole Star Wars ... thing. Except that guy wearing the Storm Trooper Costume. That was fucking cool.

Honestly, I'm so exhausted and tired and frustrated with the whole thing, I doubt I'll even go see it for a good few weeks just out of spite. Eight days straight I'm working. Fucking Star Wars.

A few tips, if you do happen to be braving your way to the movie theatre to see Star Wars over opening weekend- and I know some of you are:

1) When the doors are opened, do not push past the person opening the doors and RUN for the ticket counter- you look like an ass, and you're not going to get into the theatre any faster - if you've been waiting outside the theatre and you're there when it opens and there are only fifty other people with you and we're showing it in FIVE theatres- you're going to get a seat! A good one even!

2) We are showing Star Wars in five theatres, twenty times a day, in half-hour increments (11:30, 12, 12:30, 2 shows at 1:00- add 3 hours for the show and time to clean each theatre and restart the process). Do NOT come up to the till and do this:

[Dumbass Customer]: "Hi- can I have a ticket to Star Wars?"

[Jay the Ray of Fucking Sunshine]: "... For what show time?"

[DAC] "For Star Wars!"

[Jay] *headdesks, changes mind, beats customer to death.* No really. This is now on the list of things I am allowed to kill people for doing**

3) When I tell you that we are expecting the shows to be very busy tonight, and that we are recommending people come early in order to make sure they can get the seat they want/sit with their family- particulary when there is a large group- do not bloody YELL at me for this- be grateful! Honestly- is it my fault that the show is successful? Next time I won't tell you, and you can think you can show up ten minutes before the start time for a show on Friday evening, opening weekend, on a holiday weekend. Oh yeah, and the show is fucking Star Wars. *mutters* Fucking Star Wars. Hope you enjoy sitting in the front row, because that's the only place you're going to find seats if you come that late!

Oh- and as a side note to management who set up the schedule so the matinee box crew (basically me and one other girl) were scheduled to finish at 5:30pm and 5:45pm and the evening people weren't scheduled to even show up until 5:45- meanwhile there's a showing of Star Wars starting at 6:15, 25 people in each line up trying to buy tickets, and you made my coworker sign off at exactly 5:30 so you could count her till, leaving me to handle 50 frantic, crazy, costumed people who were all yelling at me for not going fast enough - never mind that the tickets only print off so fast no matter how fast I go? Fuck you. Fuck you very much.

Fucking Star Wars.

**Things I am allowed to kill people for doing:

1) Leaving used kleenex stuffed into the cupholders in the theatres. Seriously people- how fucking sick is that. If you're leaving them behind already, instead of carrying them out and throwing them away, toss them to the floor- okay? At least then I can sweep them up instead of having to touch them with my hands.

2) Holding your ticket between your teeth and then handing it to me. What is wrong with people! I don't want to touch it if it's just been in your mouth- how the hell do I know where you've been! When I'm taking tickets, it's not like I can leave to go and wash my hands- just don't do it! Fuckin' nasty gross disgusting... *trails off muttering*

3) The "Can I help you?" 'Yes- I would like a ticket to Star Wars' thing. Seriously- seven thousand times a day. That and coming up to the till, doing that, me asking what time, THEN starting to stare up at the showtimes while there's a line behind you all glaring at me. Fuckers. The showtimes are all over the building- stop being so fucking lazy.

**list is subject to additions upon my whims**

Oh, and I know this is long and I probably should have cut it, but Janine said I dint have to so blame her *smirks*. Plus - it's important. Get the word out enough, and I might keep from impaling someone on their own light sabre this weekend. Fucking Star Wars.

[Cross-posted to [ profile] customers_suck]


linden_jay: (Default)

February 2012

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