Whatever, I don’t exist.
First I was asked politely to not swear, even if I was not a customer facing employee.
Second time I was cautioned was because I’d switched to swearing in another language. Manager thought it was hilarious, but they still knew I was swearing.
I spent the next five years being increasingly creative with how I swore. A temporary (and loud) revert to English swearing when I was in a workplace accident was kindly ignored due to circumstance.
There was no third warning.
Too right. Hawai’i is far above him.
I should have been more detailed in my criteria. Uninhabited, no vegetation, maybe even only an inch above sea level.
I do like the raft idea. Drop him off with the flat pack, he can assemble it himself.
We don’t want him. Surely there’s an island in the middle of the ocean he can be sent.
There was a place like this in Vancouver, no idea if it is still there.
The Elbow Room. “Food and service is our name, abuse is our game!”
One of our group asked for water, he got told his legs worked and he could get it himself. The food was amazing, although we did get told off for not finishing our plate.
Hopefully through their buttholes, not through their fingers and mouths.
Our previous ISP kept after us for a few years to return their modem/router. Only problem was we were a BYO account - we never had a need for their device, nor was it ever on our account or any invoices. A few years later, and every few months afterward (typically after I’ve had to contact them to solve the hell that was constant dropouts - reconnecting 2-4 times a minute) the missing BUDii would pop up again and they’d demand we return or pay for it.
Each time I got snarkier and snarkier, treading the line of being polite and sounding like I wanted to chew their face off. Then I got Betty (fake name) who asked for a moment while she read the correspondence on our account. She commiserated with the troubles we’d been having, clarified notes on our account and then solved what a dozen others couldn’t figure out, and we never heard about the BUDii ever again.
I have ended every session of Sea of Thieves by setting my ship on fire.
I still feel bad for the two guys who were laughing as my ship burned (while on my ship) when the gunpowder kegs exploded and killed us all.
But only a little bad. They knew things would explode eventually, I was carrying a keg of gunpowder, and my ship was on fire!
We’ve been using it since it came available to test, and is such a lovely change from before. The check out system is so much cleaner than the old locked out of account while someone in the family is playing.
Cure for me - in my arse.
Not afraid of heights.
The sudden stop at the bottom, OTOH…
My big bowl broke in a move. Still have the plates and smaller bowls. Not sure where the mugs ended up. [Edit to add: Got them in Canada. Haven’t seen any in Australia.]
There’s a colony of them off the coast of northern BC. It was started about twenty years ago for a study.
Granted, they are plastic and nailed down, but hey, who cares about details.
So glad to see the update, I was wondering how you were getting on. Part of an answer is definitely a step in the right direction.
Uhh…
We ARE living in a mirror universe.
Glad to hear the driver stopped. I hope your recovery is smooth and there are no long lasting problems.
My daughter was struck by a car last week, while on a pedestrian crossing. The driver (after being chased down by another teenager) stopped, talked to my daughter, and then drove off. She collapsed once the adrenaline wore off, and we spent the evening in the hospital while they checked her over.
Driver deserves a few slaps for stopping after being chased down, and then making the decision a second time to drive off instead of calling emergency services.
(Lost a good community in the aftermath, and at least one of the offensive accounts is still active!)
They are very similar. Boost was my go to when I couldn’t stomach anything but rice.
It’s entirely possible. I’ve been prescribed lyrica and cymbalta for neuralgia, and they were the absolute worst. (Cymbalta made everything smell like vomit and food tasted like ash. I had trouble keeping anything down.)
Managing chronic pain is a beast.
Good luck with the Mayo clinic, I wish I had access to something like that where I am. The medical professionals here are beyond worthless.
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I’ve always added a carrot.