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Archive for the ‘Cuttin’ Bitches’ Category

So, I’m sitting here in the student union building, trying to organize a paper.  I had a nice sub sandwich, and a small container of HFCS-free chocolate milk.  I’m at a small, single person table, lining the wall, and I am at one table in a long line of tables.  There is a PA system playing easy listening music that spans the generations.  Easy to tune out until a familiar song comes along (like, right now, “I Say a Little Prayer“) Since I’ve been sitting here for several hours, people have come and gone, and the scenery has changed a few times.

The person who has chosen to sit in front of me is making me die inside.  Why, you ask?  She went to Starbucks and got some kind of iced beverage.  That beverage has been consumed, and all that remains is a Venti-sized pain in the ass in the form of a cup of ice.  Every 15-22 seconds, she picks up the cup, takes off the lid, shakes the cup of ice to loosen it, and pours an ice cube into her mouth.

And then she chews it.  CRUNCH. CRUNCH. CRUNCH.  It’s anywhere from 5-8 crunches. –sorry, I lost my train of thought, she shook the cup and didn’t take any ice–

I can’t stand the sound of people chewing.  Usually, if the room is crowded and its loud enough, it’s not a big deal.  And if I’m sitting at a table and everyone is crunching, including me, it doesn’t really bother me.  Wet chewing has never really bothered me, but hard crunchy REPETITIVE chewing just instantly sends me into an unadulterated rage.  If I can hear teeth clashing together, in addition to the crunching sounds, you’d better fucking start running-me hulk, me angry, me smash you.

Forbidden foods:

Sourdough pretzels

Too many croutons on a salad

Crunching fucking ice in public–are you not aware of the people around you, lady?  Srsly!

Mother fucking ice.

Mother fucking ice.

I wonder if I should mention to her that she either a) has an iron deficiency b) could have other nutritional problems c) could have pica d) is a fucking idiot who needs to be aware of others around her, including the angry person behind her who doesn’t like CRUNCHY NOISES.  But, I’m probably just being a dick–I mean, people are selling chew-friendly ice and making a ton of money!

I’d rather have the ice crunching than gum popping.  So, I will refrain from enacting violence upon her, because she might not know that she’s being noisy. As she is getting up to leave, I realize she’s had an iPod in her ears this entire time.  She couldn’t hear her crunchiness.  GAHHHHHHHHHH iPods!

Chewable Ice from Taco Time

Chewable Ice from Taco Time

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Mr. Old National

I’d like to extend a cold cutabitch welcome to Mr. Old National. We are in the process of owning our first home and after having less than orgasmic experiences with our first choice for both a mortgage broker and a buyer’s specialist (that’s what real estate agents are calling themselves now), we went to him as our mortgage broker through a local bank. We’ve never done business through this bank, but we were recommended to see him through friends. At first, it was a much better experience than with the previous broker, but now, as always, I’m getting the “no one can do anything right, why must I do everything myself?” vibe from the whole situation. Mr.Old Natioanl is pulling some serious aggro as he just sits in his little office, way too close to his giant monitor, completely unaware that I’m about to crit a fireball in his ass.

I did everything, EVERYTHING in my human power to prepare all parties involved for all situations that could occur—difficulty getting paperwork processed, getting the loan, getting supplies…. and everything that could go wrong has gone wrong. It wouldn’t be so much of an emergency–merely an annoyance– IF WE HAD A PLACE TO LIVE AFTER MAY 15! Our closing date is May 9th! We can change that, not a problem, but our lease is up and we won’t have a place to live.

Meanwhile, T and I are fighting like crazy (metaphorically and verbally, I’d kick his ass in a cat fight) to get all of this done because this takes 10 business days, and this takes 14 business days, and this MAY take 21 business days and we have…10 business days at absolute most to get the deferment completed, paperwork to be swapped back and forth between two incompetent agencies, and the underwriters to write the loan and have it on the table by the 9th.

It’s a madhouse that I worked hard to avoid through careful planning. Just goes to show you that you can’t put everyone on your schedule and you just have to be flexible and do everything you can to make sure you get what you want and need. I was going to say “hope” but “hoping” is too much like “praying,” which is hogwash in my universe.

So thank you, Mr. Old National, for making my stress levels climb to insurmountable levels and driving me to consume my body weight in meat and sugar.

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