Rant VIII: The Reckoning

fade

Staff member
My little sister can be like that. She is smart, graduating high school with a 4.0, and great SAT scores. But she decided to drop out of college and have kids instead. Which is all somehow my fault anytime I state a bit of trivia or knowledge.[DOUBLEPOST=1439228058,1439228002][/DOUBLEPOST]Edit: not that there's anything wrong with dropping out and having kids but she clearly thinks there is.
 
I'll never understand that thought process other than self-loathing. How would someone with no job, and a drinking problem be able to rationalize that other people are losers? What mental gymnastics are required to make that leap? Or is it simply "You guys aren't helping me, you're obviously losers."?
I have a whole family like this. My dad's side particularly. It's kind of like, "You shouldn't do anything to better yourself because I can't (or won't) do it." Success, in any form, is seen as you trying to be better than us and that means you're a jerk. It's entirely backwards!
 
Anyone who's rich or amounts to anything must've gotten there by being evil/bad/taking advantage. Anyone who's poor deserves to be there for not trying. Anyone who's happy deludes themselves; anyone who isn't should just man up and deal with it.

Your success highlights and contrasts their failure (or lack of trying, or whatever) in their mind. You can't say you never could break out of your bad youth if your brother did, so your failure reinforces their self-doubt/self-hatred/self-loathing.

None of the above, of course, is true, but that's never stopped anyone from thinking this way.
 

fade

Staff member
Well, now my check engine light is on, and the car is in limp mode. Checked the codes, and it's a misfire. That's generic enough that it could be anything from the plugs to a complete engine carbon cleaning. Normally I DIY everything, but I'm probably just going to get someone to look at this. I don't have the time right now.
 

fade

Staff member
I am 38, and this will literally be my first paid visit to a mechanic ever. I grew up in my dad's shop with a wrench in my hand. I am repulsed by the thought of paying anyone to fix my car, but I really don't have the time right now. I know I could figure it out, but for the first time ever, I just don't want to. I think I just hate this car. I had less trouble from my 21 year old motorcycle with 11 billion miles on it.
 
I think my pickup is officially dead. It'll be at least 5k for a new motor. I knew it was coming, but wanted to get as many miles out of it as possible. I had hoped for it to last another month or so. This sucks.
 
Finally got my bike (motorcycle) inspected. The guy told me it passed inspection but I need to get my tires replaced because they are getting dry rotted (it's a 2008 and it still has the original tires I've only driven it 6k miles in that time). so yeah that's a 400 dollar bill for good cheap tires lol. Now I have to save up the money for it
 
Dear Asshole Brother-in-Law,

Yes, I know that job interview you set me up with fell through because of my own doing. I am so terribly sorry that my girlfriend was passing out for unknown reasons and I had to rush her to the hospital, staying with her until 5 AM, and thus was too exhausted for the interview.

But you know what doesn't help?

GUILTING ME WITH IT EVERY FUCKING TIME YOU SEE ME. Saying all I had to do was show up. Or the job was going to be so easy. Or when I say I knew the job wouldn't be for me, you say, "Oh, yeah. The regular hours and $15/hr. That's definitely not for anyone."

And then tonight. Family dinner. Home from work after an exhausting day and more social interaction, which for me is more work and not in the least bit relaxing. Nephew who I hadn't seen in two years asks me how are things and I said, "Working. Wish I could find another job, but..." At which point, brother-in-law butts in with, "You know, I know where you could've worked."

FUCK. OFF. It was two fucking months ago. I didn't get the job. Thank you. I get that. Crystal fucking clear.

As a result, I basically retreated into a depressive mood for the rest of the night and went into my bedroom, not interacting with anyone, not even my nieces. One of which asked me what was wrong and hugged me before leaving.

I seriously nearly snapped in front of everyone. I really did. Only thing that stopped me from throwing a plate at him, smashing it in front of me, or unceremoniously telling him to fuck off was that there was a 5-year old sitting next to me.[DOUBLEPOST=1439517954,1439517516][/DOUBLEPOST]On the bright side, to work out all this anger and frustration, I just finished what was probably the most intense DDP Yoga workout I've ever done. Just took all my anger and frustration and put it into the workout, constantly keeping most of my muscles flexed. I'm sweating like mad, now.
 
On the bright side, to work out all this anger and frustration, I just finished what was probably the most intense DDP Yoga workout I've ever done. Just took all my anger and frustration and put it into the workout, constantly keeping most of my muscles flexed. I'm sweating like mad, now.
Asshole BiL: You know, Nick, had you just...

Nick: YOGA FLAME!

ABiL: OH GOD! FIRE! I'M ON FIRE! WHY AM I MADE OUT OF SUCH FLAMMABLE MATERIAL?!
 
Dear Asshole Brother-in-Law,

Yes, I know that job interview you set me up with fell through because of my own doing. I am so terribly sorry that my girlfriend was passing out for unknown reasons and I had to rush her to the hospital, staying with her until 5 AM, and thus was too exhausted for the interview.

But you know what doesn't help?

GUILTING ME WITH IT EVERY FUCKING TIME YOU SEE ME. Saying all I had to do was show up. Or the job was going to be so easy. Or when I say I knew the job wouldn't be for me, you say, "Oh, yeah. The regular hours and $15/hr. That's definitely not for anyone."

And then tonight. Family dinner. Home from work after an exhausting day and more social interaction, which for me is more work and not in the least bit relaxing. Nephew who I hadn't seen in two years asks me how are things and I said, "Working. Wish I could find another job, but..." At which point, brother-in-law butts in with, "You know, I know where you could've worked."

FUCK. OFF. It was two fucking months ago. I didn't get the job. Thank you. I get that. Crystal fucking clear.

As a result, I basically retreated into a depressive mood for the rest of the night and went into my bedroom, not interacting with anyone, not even my nieces. One of which asked me what was wrong and hugged me before leaving.

I seriously nearly snapped in front of everyone. I really did. Only thing that stopped me from throwing a plate at him, smashing it in front of me, or unceremoniously telling him to fuck off was that there was a 5-year old sitting next to me.[DOUBLEPOST=1439517954,1439517516][/DOUBLEPOST]On the bright side, to work out all this anger and frustration, I just finished what was probably the most intense DDP Yoga workout I've ever done. Just took all my anger and frustration and put it into the workout, constantly keeping most of my muscles flexed. I'm sweating like mad, now.
Does he... does he know what happened and why you didn't do well in the interview?
 
Does he... does he know what happened and why you didn't do well in the interview?
He knows I didn't go. I don't know if he knows the circumstances. He's such an asshole, he'd probably say, "Well you should've went with little sleep, anyway!"

And it's not that I didn't do well. It's that I cancelled. Technically, I called and asked the guy's secretary if I could reschedule. But they never got back to me.[DOUBLEPOST=1439519027,1439518431][/DOUBLEPOST]I should also add that this whole interview business?

At least two months ago. And he's still on my case about it.
 
He knows I didn't go. I don't know if he knows the circumstances. He's such an asshole, he'd probably say, "Well you should've went with little sleep, anyway!"

And it's not that I didn't do well. It's that I cancelled. Technically, I called and asked the guy's secretary if I could reschedule. But they never got back to me.[DOUBLEPOST=1439519027,1439518431][/DOUBLEPOST]I should also add that this whole interview business?

At least two months ago. And he's still on my case about it.
Oh. Well, I'm just wondering if firing back with "I guess saving my girlfriend's life was more important than a job interview" would shut him up.
 

GasBandit

Staff member
Or even, "You know what won't get me that job? You constantly reminding me that I didn't get it."
Ehh, I'd phrase it slightly differently. More along the lines of, " and maybe if you remind me a few more times, I'll suddenly be able to travel in time back to when I was supposed to interview so I can be in two places at once, both at the hospital with my girlfriend and at the interview."
 
On the bright side, to work out all this anger and frustration, I just finished what was probably the most intense DDP Yoga workout I've ever done. Just took all my anger and frustration and put it into the workout, constantly keeping most of my muscles flexed. I'm sweating like mad, now.
29677137.jpg

...THROUGH you, and then OUT of you.
I always get the most done when I'm mad, too. I just don't enjoy being mad.

--Patrick
 

GasBandit

Staff member
Fucking owner, swear to god.

Remember when Colin Cowherd got kicked off ESPN because he said Dominicans are too stupid to play baseball (or rather that "Baseball is a simple enough sport that even dominicans can play it)? Well, guess that doesn't matter because our owner wants him back on the air, now that he's on Fox Sports. Never mind the racist comments. Never mind he's on a competing network (we're an ESPN affiliate, remember?). Never mind our contractual obligations requiring us to air ESPN's network commercials during that time slot (so we'll have to do that the hard way). Never mind that our country station is getting its studio renovated and their DJs will be taking up residence in my station's studio, with all their equipment, for the next few months, and add on College football and cowboys football via yet another satellite network, and there isn't enough cabling running in the walls to carry all the audio and automation signals to/from the engineering room where the transmitter and satellite receivers are. Oh, and never mind that we don't even have the right satellite receiver for all this. Never mind that everybody in the building, myself included, doesn't want to carry his show.

His show was the highest rated part of our day before he got kicked off, so never mind ALL that above, the owner wants him on. It's gonna be a ton of work and headache, but that's not the owner's problem, is it? ESPN hasn't even finalized who's going to be in that segment yet (they've been playing round robin with their other talent to see what sticks), but now I guess it doesn't matter if what they settle on might be as popular or moreso. Once the owner gets an idea in his head, he pretty much can't be talked out of it. Contracts are signed, so "do it." Fuuuuuuck.
 
Have you tried telling him that if he tries that, Disney's lawyers will grind him into a fine powder and sprinkle him on Chris Berman's oatmeal?
 

GasBandit

Staff member
And now the owner's in town, here to personally cut our productivity in half and kick over all our anthills. Greeeat.
 
Dear asshole clients,

I want to hurt you. I want to physically injure you. I want to cause plastic deformation to your limbs with a variety of gardening implements. You fucktards. You sanctimonious cunts. You do not know anything about translation. Your repeated messages to us insulting our abilities are most certainly not welcome. I would dismiss you as a bunch of ranting lunatics, but we need to maintain our reputation for professionalism, even in the face of complete dicks.

If it was up to me, I would respond to your harassment by emailing a picture of my genitalia along with a short list of suggestions on what you can do with it. And then I'd head down to your offices with an industrial cutting tool, and I will go to town. And when I'm finished, I will take all the little bits, and I will jump on them.

Sincerely,
Me
 
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