Car Designs are Getting Out of Control.

 

 I had thought cars reached peak ugliness back in 2017, but hoooooo boy was I wrong.

 Seriously, what is happening at these companies when the design team gets together to finalise a new car? How is this happening??

Like you know exactly what this new BMW needs? A CAMELTOE. 

Right on the front.  

How about a new pickup truck? Maybe we should make the front look like it overdosed on steroids, so it's impossible to see what's directly in front of you while you're driving. Sound good?

 

OF COURSE IT DOES. Manly men need it HUGE. None of this woke shit like safety. 

But that grill is not NEARLY good enough. How about a cheese grater?

 

No..? You need more?

THEN YOU NEED A CHAIN LINK FENCE.

 

Someone tell this Lexus its mascara is running. 

 

 Every time I think I've seen the ugliest car that ever existed, some new monstrosity drives past me on my commute. Don't even get me bloody started on the stupid Tesla Techno Van.

 Hope you have a good weekend, y'all.

 

I'd rather take a bath with a shark.

Sometimes we hurt our pets without meaning to. The good news is (and I forget where I read this, so you'll just have to trust me) is that when you freak out and make a fuss of them afterwards, you dog or cat actually understands that you're saying sorry. Apparently, animals do this to each other when they're young, if their rough housing gets too rough and one gets hurt, the other will apologise with cuddles or something.  

I try, I really do. But cats are all on a personal mission to trip you over as many times as possible. With smaller cats, this can be very stressful.

Like with Harleyquinn and Eleven, for example.

They are both very smol, and thus tripping over one of them often results in kicking them across the room.  

And then panicking and feeling wracked with guilt.

 Tripping over Ivy?

Not so much with the guilt.

 

Gyr is not home yet. Now they're saying the end of this week. 

I JUST WANT MY MF CAR BACK FOR FECK'S SAKE IT'S BEEN ALMOST TWO MONTHS.

 Also found out today I have a torn labrum and torn hamstring in the left leg. My orthopaedist can now be added to the list of people who think I'm a witch. He could not understand how I betray absolutely no outward signs that I am in fucking excruciating pain pretty much all the time.

I have informed Bossman that he will be purchasing me a giant beanbag chair for my desk because regular chairs are now my enemy. 




 

Pro tip of the day: screen your calls when you’re trying to burn a body.

YOU GUUUUUYYYYSSSSSSSS

Harry Kane is laid up with an injury for at least THREE MONTHS. Tottenham Hotspur is FINISHED. The English national team is FINISHED. 

It was bad enough we lost Hugo Lloris to a horrific injury. His goalkeeping skills are so good, we all turned a blind eye to his being....... 

....
......:::shudders:::...
..

.......

...French.

The English and the French have a very strange relationship. Like we don't ACTUALLY hate each other, it's just a mutual arch nemesis relationship that goes back to when people first settled in what is now France and Britton. I grew up in this mindset, so maybe that's why I never understand why people get all uppity when the French and the English have a savage go at each other. 

But because people looooooooovvee feeling offended, someone tried to start an internet fight with me on Reddit after I made a clearly in jest comment about hating the bloody French. Turned out alright though, as an English person and a French person stepped in to try and explain that we don't really mean it*.

Stepmom has been in my life since I was 4 years old. Thus she has had 30+ years to observe and understand Dad's extreme Britishness. But for some reason, whenever me and the sibs and Dad start ranting about the French, Stepmom just gets confused into stunned silence. 

Or occasionally, "What is the issue with French people?!? Do any of you even know a French person?!?!?"

MOM SERIOUSLY that's not the point.

Dad, this past week:

Dadum and I have now added the rugby subscription to our tv sports app thing. Had to be done, as MY COUSIN is playing for the Worcester Warriors. 

The family that just moved in across the street are Arsenal fans. We always wear our team jerseys on weekends, and thus we now have an unspoken Football Team War. I'm thinking of buying a Spurs flag to hang in my living room window, which faces their bedroom window. 

In other news, I MIGHT get Gyr back at the end of the week. I also definitely have a lawsuit. The first MRI showed a herniated disc and some other long medical terms that mean my spine is crushing the living daylights out of my sciatic nerve, hence CONSTANT pain shooting from my lower back down to my left knee. The hip joint has been feeling slightly better, but not nearly 100% yet. I go for an MRI of said hip on Friday. 

The orthopaedist was honest with me, which I appreciate. Based on the MRI of my back, the notes sent to him by my physical therapist, and all of the continuing symptoms, it is very likely that this will not get better. The next step as far as pain management will be injections/epidurals to the spine and hip. If that stops working down the road, I might need surgery. 

The one and only upshot to this is that it could potentially mean a fairly large settlement from the other driver's insurance company. I'm not looking for some absurd amount of money, but it would be nice if I could actually pay off all of my debt. 

I don't remember the last time I didn't owe fewer than five figures in debt. Until that is paid off, I will never have any savings. and because I have no money saved, whenever something extremely expensive comes up unexpectedly, I have to charge it to a credit card. I can't even cash in on my tax returns--because I live in NY and work in NJ, come tax return season, I end up owing the State of New York a sum about as much as what I get back from the federal tax return. And I get nothing back from New Jersey. 

I'm grateful at least that I do not own any property, because the mentally ill buffoon currently running the country has now put a cap on how much of your property taxes you can list as a deduction on your tax return. 

The Democrats can't cough up anyone better, so I fear we're going to be stuck with this mess for another four years. Time to rethink our options and elect someone who will REALLY Make America Great Again Russia Instead.

* We do.

Well, we must never feel sorry for ourselves, must we? No matter how bad things get, they can always get worse.

Today, Gyr of House Brooker, First of His Name, Son of a Perverse and Rebellious Woman, was totalled.

(Apparently, stop signs are merely a suggestion.)

I had a 4 minute ride in an ambulance that will probably cost $1,200.00. Nothing broken, but I did something to my left hip that requires an orthopaedist. That will be Monday. Walking, sitting, lying down, bending over, and putting on shoes and trousers, among a number of other things, are incredibly painful at the moment.

As to what the feck I'm going to do with regards to obtaining a new vehicle, jumping off a tall building is at the top of my list.

I had consolidated the remaining money due on Gyr into a loan I already had with the credit union, because I was REEALLLLLYY struggling making the car payment plus the existing loan payment. I'll be lucky if I get $4,000.00 from my insurance for Gyr. I cannot afford the added monthly expense of a car payment, even a used car.

Why can't something go right in my life? Just one thing. One.

I think I want a Nissan

Just a short post for funsies.

Has anyone else noticed how stupid some of these new cars look? I'm not sure what the designers are smoking, but I swear half the new cars I see on the road look like Pokemon.

I first noticed this with the new Jeeps.

How do those headlights provide any light? Why is the car squinting?

Even Toyota's new cars look like Pokemon. Look at this guy

Check out that sweet handlebar 'stash.

And what is up with this one

It looks like a harlequin.

But my favourite might be the new Nissans

Because they look absolutely ridiculous.

A proper post with an update on Eleven tomorrow maybe..... For now, I'm off to meet the band. We're freelancing at the moment, playing random church events whenever we're asked, which is nice. 

I have a present for you; it's very sharp.

 Why is it that some of simplest and easiest things cause some of us such frustration that we will avoid doing them at all costs? A combination of laziness and boredom is my best guess. Simple tasks such as

Laundry.

Doing laundry is not difficult. It's not even that time consuming if you think about it. Even if you have to go a laundromat to wash your clothes (so long as you're not in a sketchy location), it takes all of 30 seconds to throw your clothes in the washer and then you've got like half an hour before you have to come back and put the stuff in the dryer. I will say that not having my own washer and dryer is annoying, but I am permitted to use the washer and dryer in both my parents' homes whenever I need to, so it's hardly a hassle.

I spend more time thinking about doing laundry and planning to do laundry than it probably takes to do the actual laundry.

I will avoid doing laundry until I am literally down to the very last pair of emergency underwear.* Which is totally stupid, because by then I have such a ridiculous mountain of dirty clothes piled up it takes me like 4 loads to get all of it washed and dried. Which means I'm stuck at Dad's house all day on a weekend, or stuck going back and forth from work to Mum's house for three days in a row (currently on day 3 at Mum's--first load folded, second load needs folding, third load to go in the dryer during my lunch break). And that's just the clothes. There is still a pile of sheets and towels sitting on my bedroom floor that has been there since I came back from Indiana.

Even more than doing laundry, I hate

Getting the Car Serviced.

This is even easier than laundry because all I have to do is drop Gyr off at the mechanic and pick him up a few hours later. Gyr should have an oil change every 5,000 miles, but he actually get serviced about every 6,000 miles because I spend that last 1,000 miles thinking about scheduling the car for service, being anxious about it, and not actually doing it.

Since I travel over 120 miles a day for work, this little mental mania has become something of a constant in my life. As has

Going to the Bank.

I have managed--as far as my personal finances are concerned--to ensure that I never need to set foot in a bank again. Unfortunately, I have to go to the bank for work to deposit checks.

I don't know why I hate going to the bank so much. I really don't. But every time I see Boss man emerging from his office with checks and deposit slips in his hand, my heart sinks and my lunch break is ruined. Because I have to spend all of two minutes in the bank. I think this is solely the result of laziness, because Bank of America got rid of all their drive-thrus and I definitely started hating the bank more after that.....

One of our client's is currently sitting in Bossman's office complaining because we only got him $650,000.00 for his car accident. Like really, dude? On my current income (after taxes), it would take me about 20 YEARS to amass $650,000.00.

 How are the rest of y'all doing? 

*the Christmas thong, because of course you needed to know that

My drive to work this morning:

That haze is not fog, it is actually so much snow I could barely see the car in front of me.

Yes, I was using my phone whilst driving. But I am always sure to make certain there are no cars beside or behind me so that if I should hit a deer, I won't ruin anyone else's day.*

I do not understand the weather.

My new license plates finally arrived.

I'll let y'all work that one out yourselves.


The Simple Cat has discovered that heat comes out of the vent above the stove when the oven is on.

It is now her favourite sleeping spot. 

^I posted that picture in a facebook group (of which I am no longer a member) for crazy cat ladies and was more or less crucified for it. It's so upsetting!! How could I do that to my cat?!?! 

Yes, I am that freaking stupid that I would allow my cat to get burned. 

I f**king hate everyone seriously


This coming Sunday is Ugly Sweater Day at church. I have sacrificed my own sweater, which is the ugliest sweater in creation, for Lil Bro#2 to wear. 

He has actually been wearing it out in public and it is now his favourite article of clothing.

Earlier this week, Lil Bro#2 reviewed Fatal Attraction.

Christmas is rapidly approaching and I don't even care. I decorated Mum's house and put up her tree, threw some fairy lights around the apartment, and decorated the office, but I'm just not feeling it.

The office dog even got decorated.

Listen to this band, they are phenomenal:



































*At this point, I am fairly certain that I am unkillable. After 3 attempts, one unintentional overdose, thousands of accumulated prayers for death, and countless accidents that would have given the Lord ample opportunity to kill me, I somehow remain alive. 

Being part of a family means committing forgery for the ones you love.

 Emails and facebook messages with regard to my wellbeing are starting to pile up, so I figured I'd try to post something....

I had a nice week away in the beginning of the month staying with Tempest, who is beyond lovely. We did one of those Escape the Room things (twice--success in the art gallery heist, near success at the bank robbery), and wore period costumes on both Halloween and two days later for trivia night at the local brewery.

We ended up skipping trivia and playing Nintendo instead. We all mostly failed at Super Mario on NES, and then we broke Mortal Kombat on the Sega Genesis. 

I made friends with Tempest's cat, Pippin.

 I love him. He cuddled with me nearly every night I was there. (Presumably because the Simple Cat has trained me to keep up the petting and scratching even after I've fallen asleep.)

We also did lots of walking at various parks, as I successfully got Tempest into geocaching. I got super excited at one park when we saw a red squirrel,

  

and then we found a praying mantis.

 I moved him from the danger of the parking lot to the safety of the trees. Hopefully he did not wander back into the parking lot.

I made some clay thingies

Simple Cat/Ivy and Harley

self portrait

but they are nowhere hear as amazing as Tempest's creations.

I returned from my road trip on Saturday, Vienn Peridot in tow. Peri made friends with both cats immediately. I was amazed, as Simple Cat NEVER comes out of hiding when new people come over. Ivy loved Peri, and she spent most of Monday evening and Tuesday looking for her after she left.

I took Peri to Smokey's for dinner for her birthday. On Sunday we wandered the farmer's market with Lil Bro2 (and of course visited the Pesto Man), went to A.C. Moore and Michaels to spend far too much money on art supplies,* and then headed over to Dadum's for dinner, as Stepmom had cooked a nice chicken and rice dish in honor of the foreign visitor. After dinner, we all watched Babe and I totally forgot that Elrond did the voice of the sheepdog.

The following Tuesday night, we as a nation somehow elected Donald Trump as the next president. I did not get to vote, as Bossman made me stay at the office until after 6.00 PM, and then I had to go get groceries and petrol and visit the bank, and after sitting in like 2 hours of traffic on the way home, I was so aggravated and tired I really didn't feel like waiting around in the cold when it was so late I might not even have made it to the front of the line at the voting place (which would have been another 45 minutes in the car from my house).

Honestly though I had no idea who I planned on voting for. I had actually considered just flipping a coin because I don't even give a f**k anymore. I've had enough of the lesser-of-two-evils elections. I've lost all patience with the circus that is the United States government.

Last Friday, I made an appearance at my friend's daughter's 13th birthday party. Emma (the daughter) is a treasure., and possibly the only real fan of my books. I made her a art for her birfday.

I think it might be the best mushroom cottage yet.

I also hauled ass outta there after only an hour because small house filled with a large group of squealing shrieking 12 and 13 year old girls = HARD NO.

In other news..........

The week-long road trip was a wonderful distraction, but once I settled back into normal life, all the ick came right back. Emotional turmoil, extreme depression, general despair and hopelessness. The Doc has upped my meds, but I know that more antidepressants and mood stabilizers and sedatives will not fix the real problem. I do not know how to fix the real problem, so I've fallen back on unhealthy coping mechanisms.

I do not eat anything more than the cream in my coffee and a spoonful of peanut butter or a leftover piece of chicken, except for when I have to eat in front of people. This has actually been a pattern for some time, though I have not blogged about it because I had done so well with recovery and to slip back into the eating disorder seems like such a colossal failure I couldn't bring myself to admit it.

It came to a head a few days ago, when one of my friends posted an old photo on facebook, and then sent me a recent one of us hanging out.

I hate photos of me. I hate my reflection. I tend to avoid mirrors except when doing my makeup, so seeing photos of me is generally never a pleasant experience, but I can ignore them, brush it off, and move on.

Except the other day, when I saw M's recent photo of us, I kind of lost it. I feel huge. Unbearably huge.

Last night, I had an extremely vivid dream in which I got struck by lightning and died. It wasn't a quick death, but I was unbothered by the pain and the shock and instead my thoughts were more like FINALLY. When I woke up, I was so disappointed it took me like ten minutes to drag myself out of bed.

It's like Hyperbole and a Half put it in her post about depression--I don't necessarily want to kill myself, I just don't want to be alive anymore. If I didn't have the cats, things might be different, but for the moment I cannot bring myself to abandon them.

*Everyone is getting art for Christmas now because I'm poor.

Yeah, that’s right! You better run! She’s our friend and she’s crazy!

As much as I adore my new apartment, there is still one drawback to living in an apartment building (aside from no dishwasher and not washing machine).

Neighbours.

For the most part, I've lucked out with the neighbours here. (Remember the neighbours we had in Philly?) The lady next door is very pleasant, though I've only seen her twice since moving in. I have yet to see her son, or the other person who moved in a couple weeks ago (I'm assuming either her daughter or her son's girlfriend...).

The landlord's daughter and her boyfriend live in the apartment below mine. I've run into her maybe two or three times. She is also very nice.

Next to her, there is a family of migrant farmers (parents and two kids). I see them the most, and they're probably the friendliest out of everyone. My only issue with them is that every once in a while, the family across the street comes over so all the kids can play together, and for some reason they feel like it's a good idea to have all the kids play in the driveway. A driveway in which six cars are frequently coming and going.

Then there's the people in the basement.

I hate people. I hate small talk. I hate being forced to interact with people on a small-talk level, but I'll do it when the situation calls for it.

For example, if you happen to pass your neighbours in the shared driveway, it's not a lot to ask to give them a pleasant "good morning" or least a "hi."

Because the basement-dwellers allow me to use their rubbish bins free of charge (otherwise I'd have had to pay $20/month for my own), I thought they must be relatively nice people. I offered to split the $20/month, but they said no. That's very nice of them.

But every time I pass one of them and try for the friendly "good morning" or "hi" or what have you, I get Side-Eye-Chloeied.

x

If Mr. Basement-Dweller is out on his own, I might get a grunt or a muttered "hi" back. If it's both Mr. and Mrs. Basement-Dweller, I get Side-Eye-Chloeied all the way to the front door.

Mrs. Basement-Dweller seems to have a particular hatred for me. At first I thought I was just paranoid, but I've seen her chatting all friendly-like with Mrs. Migrant Farmer and the people across the street while their kids play together, and chatting with the dude across the street who handles most of the maintenance in our building, so she obviously doesn't hate everyone. I've tried really hard to be nice to her, but I feel like every time I do something like compliment her bumper stickers (because in fairness, she has some hilarious bumper stickers), she just gives me dirtier looks than she did before.

But enough about that.

Let's talk about her f**king minivan.

As per everyone's lease, each apartment gets one of the five parking spaces (5 apartments = 5 parking spaces). It's a b*tch backing out of my parking space if Mr. Basement-Dweller's car is in the driveway parked next to mine, but it can be done with a 5-point turn. The reason being that the stupid unnecessary handrails leading down to the basement apartment stick out into the driveway in the most awkward spot ever, and you have to do a 5+ point turn avoid hitting them and knocking them over (Mr. Basement-Dweller and I have both destroyed the railings, more than once).

Everyone else who lives in the building but doesn't get a parking space parks on the street right outside the building. There are only like 20 people living in the whole village, so it's not exactly hard to find a space right outside our building. All the other tenants manage it without a problem.

Except for Mrs. Basement-Dweller.

More often than not, she parks in the driveway.

Here's how the driveway is set up:

And here's where Mrs. Basement-Dweller parks her minivan.

If she pulls right up to the garage, I might be able to get out if I make a 30-point turn. Usually when I am attempting this, Mr. and Mrs. Basement-Dweller stare at me from right outside their front door, giving me dirty glares.

The other day, I tried and failed to get out of my parking space, so I rolled my window down and asked very politely, "could' y'all please move the van?"

Mrs. Basement-Dweller's response was a very audible "UUGGHHH", and then she stabbed her cigarette out rather violently into their overflowing ashtray, went inside, and slammed the door behind her.

Mr. Basement-Dweller stood there for a protracted moment, obviously under the assumption that Mrs. Basement-Dweller had gone in to get her keys so she could move the van. When she did not return after some time, he stuck his head inside and said something to her, and then he went and got the keys and moved the van.

And I was like ummmmmmm ok do y'all want me to take out your railings again? Should I arrange to have my car lifted out of the driveway with a crane?? COULD ONE OF YOU MAYBE PARK IN THE FECKING STREET LIKE EVERYONE ELSE?

 Lil Bro#2's explanation: "Obviously it's because she's an old witch who wants to steal your youth and beauty from you. Watch out. Don't drink any mysterious liquids that show up on your doorstep."

Sounds legit.

Have a good weekend y'all!

I'm Going to Complain Now, Episode 65

I'm sure this may come as a shock, but I'm going to complain now. 

I guess this is sort of a continuation of that post I did about my weird pet peeves.

Know what I really really hate, like more than anything else that involves driving?

Supermarket parking lots.

People misbehaving in the grocery store is bad enough, but I think all of mankind's worst attributes come out in the grocery store parking lot.

1. People taking up three parking spaces because they're too lazy to back up and straighten themselves out.

2. People leaving shopping carts in the middle of parking spaces instead of taking the extra 20 seconds to bring it back to the shopping cart return thingy.

3. People letting their shopping carts run away and crash into other people's cars.

4. People not stopping and looking before flooring it out of their parking spaces.

5. Other people getting pissed off and honking their horns when you're very slowly and carefully backing out of your space because there are cars beside you and you have not yet acquired the ability to see through solid objects.

6. People on foot darting out from behind parked cars without looking, and then giving you dirty looks when you have to slam on your brakes to avoid hitting them.

7. Seagulls. The ocean is very far away. Where did you come from? Why are you here? And why do you all hate me?

There are certain supermarkets I at which I will not shop because I really hate their parking lots. Unlike most Americans, I will not circle the parking lot searching for the space closest to the door, and I will not stalk people who look like they are about to leave so that I can park closer to the door.

I park as far away from other cars and people as possible.

So that was my lunch break. Now on to more things that I hate:

People who never shut up.

You might be a really nice person. You might be an awesome person to hang out with.

However

If you're the sort of person who cannot handle silence and/or has no inner monologue and so must speak every single thought in your head out loud, we can't be friends. I'm sorry, that's just the way it has to be.

In an unfortunate twist of fate (or perhaps God just trying to see how far he can push my patience and anger management) there are two people in my life who just cannot shut up, and they are people from whom I cannot escape: Bosslady, and my mother.

There have been times where I thought there was someone else in the house, or someone else in the office because Bosslady and Mumsy were talking as though having a conversation with another person. I know it's not their fault; it's just their personalities. But the longer they keep talking, the more annoyed I get. The result of this is that when I reach my breaking point, I sound mad without meaning to when I talk to them, which leads to confusion (and in the case of Mumsy, fights for no reason). And then I feel bad afterwards.

I don't know which of the two of them is worse. Mumsy tends to fly off the handle even when I don't think I sound pissed off, and then she throws a tantrum.

Bosslady, on top of never shutting up, has that particular Yankee accent where almost every sentence she speaks sounds like a question, and a lot of the time she has a very condescending tone that I don't think is intentional. And both of them tend to repeat themselves over and over and over and over and over and over to a ridiculous degree, and that's another thing that annoys me.

It took me years to figure out why I spend so much time feeling really angry for no apparent reason. Praise the Lord for Zoloft.

How are all y'all doing?