Monthly Archives: June 2011

Soooo……

Fuckin’ Google…..I love you

I logged in to my computer at work after two days off and problems started immediately.  Two+ hours of fucking with it and punching it in the face (shutting it off without shutting it down) a few times it completely froze.  I had to call the IT clown down to take a look.  He took my computer away for surgery; said the hard drive was failing. 

My computer is in the hands of someone who is probably going to see everything I’ve been doing on that computer that isn’t anywhere near work related in the past, ohhhh…..I don’t know…..since I started working there a year ago.  I can only imagine his face if he should see my google searches.  What?  Like you don’t know what it takes to get that perfect image for your blog post???

Now?  Now I’m just waiting to see which one of your blogs gets me fired.  Because you know I read all of your awesomeness while I’m at work, right Internets?  Yeah, that’s how much I love you.

My money is on Kage of Sex, Sequins + Sociopaths or Rafa at The Rudeblog.  Both of these blogs are worth losing your job over, by the way.

Am I worried about this?  Not really.

I should be.  But I find that when I really think about it, my job blows goats nuts on a regular basis and losing it would be somewhat like losing a hemorrhoid.

In the meantime, I apologize for not reading and lovingly commenting on your fabulous blogs.  I’m paralyzed in that respect for 10 hours a day……….for now.

Cheers.
SF


Sorry For The Bullshit… PLUS Poll Results And Random Shit!



PANCAKES!!



Holy crap.  Sorry for the stupid “test” posts and shit.  I was trying to prove my tech savviness install Intense Debate on this blog and stupidly decided to go with the template install instead of the gadget version.  It clearly tells you that the gadget version is easier to install but may cause longer load times.  The template version is harder to install but loads faster.  It also requires one to “edit HTML” (what the fuck does that mean???) and in doing so one could blow the ever-loving-shit out of one’s blog by misplacing one teeny tiny piece of text.  So, in an effort to not drive everyone who visits this blog bat shit crazy, I chose the latter version.  Because I love you.  You’re welcome.  Or maybe I should be saying I’m sorry…..you know, in case you hate the new comment thinger.  Please don’t hate it.  Wait, I might hate it.  Time will tell, eh?  I just wanted an easier way to respond to all of your stellar comments and the Blogger comments thinger was sucking my will to live.  Let me know what you think.  Really, tell me.  Be honest, Internets.

In other news, this blog is officially http://www.sugarfreethoughts.com/.  Yeah, I purchased the domain.  Why?  Because when I started this blog I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing (like I do now?) so the url was my email address which had abso-fucking-lutely nothing to do with the title or content of this blog.  Things got a little wonky while the site was “in transition” but I think I’ve got it all worked out.  Yay me.

In my last post I had a little poll about Captcha.  Yes, I capitalize it because I think of Captcha as a living being.  Like an asshole ex-boyfriend or something.  Shut up.  Anyway, the results are in!  As of this writing, these are the results:

– 47.37% (9 votes) for  I dream of waiting outside Captcha’s house with a stun gun and a lead pipe

– 47.37% (9 votes) for Captcha is like that cheap soap I bought one time; causes mild irritation

– 5.26% (1 vote) for What the fuck is Captcha

I’m going to assume that last one was my buddy Rafa the Rudeblogger fucking with me because he’s funny and awesome like that.  I chose the picture at the top of this post for him because I think he has some weird obsession with pancakes.  The good news is that no one wanted to make out with Captcha in a dark closet.  That’s good, because that motherfucker has syphilis.   

It was fun having a poll!  I’ll have to do it again sometime.  If you would like to try one on your site, it was super easy and free at Polldaddy.com.

I’m making my own beer.  Ok, so technically I bought a beer brewing kit for Bruce for his birthday and it’s his beer, but you know my overbearing ass took that shit over and I’m calling it my beer.  I don’t even drink beer but I’m totally psyched about this.  It just takes too long and I’m super impatient.  I totally wanted to taste some like 5 minutes after we put it into the keg to ferment….or brew or whatever it’s doing in there.  The smell made me change my mind pretty quickly.  I’ll let you know in a few weeks how it turns out.

Speaking of being impatient, I planted a garden.  ::sigh::  It’s gonna be a long summer.


Captcha: The Blog World’s Dickhead Doorman

I’d like to start this post out by saying that I am in no way judging anyone who has the captcha thinger enabled on their blog. It is only my personal opinion that Captcha is a bastard.

Seriously? Why would you put your readers through this??

Yes, when I first started this blog I had that fucker enabled and I moderated comments.  Why?  Because my super stellar genius blog was sure to be inundated with massive amounts of traffic and who knows what kind of trouble could come my way without these security measures???   But then I realized that nothing bad would happen without Captcha there guarding the door with his list of humans who were allowed to come in and comment on this exclusive party. I also quit moderating comments because half the fun of commenting on a post is reading what others have said and you can’t read them when they’re sitting in the blog owner’s inbox waiting to be published some time after you have left your comment.

So, today I thought I’d try out a little poll I made.**crossing fingers and hoping the fuckin’ thing works so I don’t look like a total toolbag**  How fun, right?!  Of course after you vote, please feel free to elaborate in the comments section.  I can’t wait to hear the different opinions on this!

Cheers!
SF

* side note – having captcha enabled on your blog will not keep me from reading your awesomeness….because I love you


Calling In Sick To Work – A How To Guide

Fucking jobs.  They suck.  And there inevitably comes a time when you just can’t deal with going in to work.  For whatever reason, that torturous, soul sucking monster has you fed the fuck up.  You need a day off.  But, you hadn’t planned on it and therefor, did not put in a time off request.  There’s only one way to deal with this.  You’ll have to call in sick.  Fuck. Yeah.

This seems like it would be a simple enough task.  It’s not.  You gotta have a plan.  I’m here to help.

First of all, when you decide to call in sick, whether it be the night before (I strongly suggest this option) or when your head pops off the pillow that morning, you have to commit to that shit.  Don’t be him-hawing around with the idea.  You’ll sound all nervous when you make the call.  You need to be confident in your delivery about the ailment that is preventing you from getting your ass in to the office to be a super, happy, motivated team player.

If you can help it, try to pick a day when you really won’t be missed all that much.  For instance, a day when there is less work to do and more than enough staff.  Your superiors are less likely to give you any shit about calling off if they really don’t need your help all that badly on that particular day.  Of course if you’re feeling a bit untouchable, or if you just hate the dill-holes that you work with, pick a super busy day when they may be shorthanded already and totally fuck their world.  The choice is yours.

Next, you need to decide on an illness so great that you are unable to perform even the simplest of tasks if they were to insist that you come in because you are so absolutely needed on that day.  It will have to be an ailment that has a speedy recovery time so no one starts a fucking inquisition as to why you were too sick to come in yesterday but seem just fine today.  Let’s go over some options, shall we?

Migraine – This one can be convenient to use the morning of the call off, as migraines can come on quickly with little or no notice.  Hence the little or no notice of calling in an hour before you are due to show up at work.  But it can be a bit tricky as well.  Have you laid the ground work for this one?  I mean, have you made it a point to talk to your co-workers about how awful your migraines are?  If not, they may question you when you return.  What kind of medicine do you treat your migraines with?  What are your triggers?  You’ll need to be quick with your answers, so if you do not in fact suffer from these bastards, you’ll need to do some research, and let’s face it, nobody wants to deal with that shit on your awesome paid day off of work.

Cough/Cold – Unless you want to be a goddamn award winning actor for an entire week following the call off, don’t bother with this one.  Sure, you leave your boss saying, “Damn, Jezebel sure sounded like shit.  I’m sure glad her sick ass is staying away from here today.”  But, in order to not look like a lying piece of shit upon your return, you have to play that shit out for the rest of the week.  Too much trouble and leaves too many opportunities for you to get busted laughing and carrying on a normal voiced conversation on your cell phone in the 5th floor restroom because you thought you were alone and didn’t realize that the catty whore from the sixth floor sales office had walked in 3 minutes ago.  Trust me on this one.

Sick Child – If you have children, I imagine this would be the gold standard for calling off of work.  However, I don’t have children but plan on making some up for my next job so that I can use this excuse.  But, since I do not have any real or fake children now, and my coworkers and superiors know this, I’m just gonna continue to hate people who get to use this excuse because I’m a spiteful bitch like that.

Stomach Problems – This one is money.  It can come on suddenly giving you that “it must have been something I ate” or “must have just been a 24 hour bug” excuse that is so perfectly fit for the call off.  Also, no way is anyone going to ask for any details regarding which end of your body the offending stomach is choosing to cast out it’s contents from.  Unless they’re a fuckin’ sicko.  In that case offer to send them a  picture of the last thing that was deposited in your toilet.  If they accept that offer, then you need to end the call with your resignation because that demented mother fucker needs help and it’s not the kind that you can give when you clock in at work everyday. 

Now, crawl back in bed for a few more hours and dream of how you are going to spend your company funded day off.  I like to dream of cocktail time starting at 2:00pm instead of 6:30pm, because I won’t be riding the shame-train out of the city during happy hour on this day, my friends.

So there you have it, Internets.  I hope that this will help you out in your next bout of laziness and/or I-don’t-give-a-fuckery in regards to your job.


Truck Stop Macaroni Salad

I fuckin’ wish we had traveled in this

Holy shit, Internets, did you think that I got arrested on my trip to Colorado since I haven’t posted anything in for-fucking-ever??  Well, I didn’t.  Turns out, I’m just a lazy bitch. 

I’m not going to subject you to a detailed account of my travels.  Nobody cares that I sat on a couch for three days watching two complete season’s of Dexter about what happened on my uneventful visit to the Centennial State.  It was a road trip.  It was long.  There was a graduation.   I came back.

What I will share with you are some observations and profanity laden rants about the states we traveled through during that week. 

Washington – Man I love the greenery of this state and the temperate climate.  I love Seattle and the entire Puget Sound area.  However, Washington State can go fuck itself with it’s insane sales tax and it’s $9.00 cigarettes.  I left home with enough smokes to get me to the next state where I could purchase my little nicotine friends without having my asshole hurt afterward.

Oregon – I don’t know what happened here in the past in regards to gas pumps and the general public.  I can only assume that something went horribly wrong at some point because you’re not allowed to dispense your own fuel in Oregon.  I’m not even kidding, Internets.  After 20 years of successfully filling my own tank and not once ever blowing anything up, I have to sit and wait for a pimply faced teenager to come and give me the goods.  (heh, that sounded dirty.)  On top of that, it’s a $1000 fine if you get caught doing your own pumping.  (hehehe….I’ll stop now)  On another note, Oregon can join Washington in self-go-fuckery with their bullshit 65mph speed limit on the interstate. 

Idaho – Smells bad.  Moving on…..

Utah – Where do I start with this wasteland?  If you’re originally from or currently live in this shit hole, I’m sorry.  But, before anyone gets all pissy with me for speaking ill of the land of Brigham Young or Joseph Smith or whoever the hell that state is known for, I have earned the right to say what I want about Utard.  I have, in fact, lived there.  I know.  Cry for me.  I’m not going to go on and on about how much I hate that place.  For the purpose of this post, I’ll just say that Utah can go fuck itself twice for not having an easily accessible Starbucks along I-70 at 5:12am on May 21st.  I blame Utah for my delirium that was brought on by lack of this delicious caffeinated beverage 19 hours into our journey.  At that point in time, I truly believed that it would be possible to make a macaroni salad while traveling by using only items found at truck stop roller-dog counters.   What?  My mother needed a side dish for dinner that night.

Colorado – Yay!!  The land of $4.00 cigarettes!!!  I wondered if Washington could see me flipping it off from 1200 miles away while I was stocking up on Camels at the Smoke Depot.  I hoped so.  Oh, and my super awesome family lives there so I won’t speak ill of it.  Did I mention how much cheaper cigarettes are in Colorado?

Wyoming – Cold and windy.  We should just set that whole state up with a gajillion wind turbines and make it one giant power plant for the rest of the country.  I don’t know how anyone lives there.  I even felt sorry for the cows.

And then…..seven days after we set out on our journey, we returned home safe and sound.  Well, there may have been a slight case of trucker butt that came out of this, but I won’t tell you if it was me or the Hubs.

It was totally the Hubs.