ASKING TOO MUCH
Is it too much to ask for those liftable dealy-do's on the jars of peanut butter and cottage cheese and frosting containers and a myriad of other things that we buy on a weekly basis ... is it too much to ask that they actually lift off?
Okay. I am going to be frank. Liftable? Removable? Able to be taken off even a fraction of an inch from any surface it's glued on? Well, it's a loose term, really. Tonight, after only being able to successfully peel back the thin layer of film on the top of the liftable safety cover on the mayonnaise jar, I had to finally break into it by jamming a pair of kitchen shears into the top of said jar and hacking away at it until I was finally able to pull it off ... in strips ... five, to be exact ... all the while getting mayo all over every one of my fingers.
I get it. I get it. You are making my life a little safer by making sure someone doesn't open a jar of mayonnaise and spit in it or something. I really am eternally grateful for that. But gee whiz! The lengths to which I must go just to smear some mayo on my sandwich. It's mind-boggling, and after the day I've had, slightly annoying.
Just sayin'.
And then there's the educational loan specialists. Listen, I know I change the furniture arrangement in my living room around A LOT. I like variety. So, sue me! But the only real person I am affecting by this constant rearrangement of furniture is The Cat, and, quite honestly, I find a certain amount of joy in annoying her, seeing as she doesn't blink an eye when annoying me.
My educational loan "holders," lets call them ... they change like I change my underwear.
I change those daily, just in case there was a question.
I mean, I have a crap-ton of loans. Will have for the foreseeable future, and good grief! I've had a TON of loan holders for all those loans I have ... all the bunches and bunches of loans. So, of course, I get this lovely note today that says, and I quote, because, honestly, it's too laughable NOT to:
"Nothing has changed YET -- you can still visit _________ for account access. Stay tuned over the next few months for information about website changes and payment methods."
Dude! You don't understand who you are dealing with here. You are super duper lucky you get the payment every month! I. HATE. PAYING. BILLS. I'd rather go to my girl doctor every week for a month, and I really, really dislike going to her. The fact that you are asking me to stayed tuned is the most laughable thing I've read in since, well, forever! I can barely remember that the gigantic pile of envelopes spewing paper every where and creating a whole situation on my kitchen counter are bills that are begging for attention like NOW. And you want me to stay tuned?
Listen, just send me the address to where I am suppose to send my old school check, and we'll both skip through life with smiles on our faces and no worse off for it. I don't need you changing payment options on me or messing with my already shaky, at best, bill-paying methodology. Nothing good can come from that.
And garbage day. I am alllll about a community garbage pick up. I am beyond thrilled that a portion of my taxes goes toward the job of picking up my garbage. But, seriously, after a day of making a ton of decision and hearing my name squealed at various decibels throughout the day as well as picking up after my little mess makers, gathering garbage from all over the house, taking it down stairs and then dragging it uphill to my road is just a bummer. And I have had enough bummers in my day as it is. So, adding insult to injury here is just plain cruel.
My mother always said life isn't fair. Nobody said it would be.
Profound, isn't she?
Welcome to my childhood.
But she's right. Life isn't fair. If it were, I would ride to work on a rainbow-colored unicorn everyday while catching the Skittles that are raining down upon me in my mouth and waiting for my Prince Charming, who will be making me dinner while taking the peelable covers off all of our jars. Then, he will set about paying the bills and taking out the garbage.
Okay. I am going to be frank. Liftable? Removable? Able to be taken off even a fraction of an inch from any surface it's glued on? Well, it's a loose term, really. Tonight, after only being able to successfully peel back the thin layer of film on the top of the liftable safety cover on the mayonnaise jar, I had to finally break into it by jamming a pair of kitchen shears into the top of said jar and hacking away at it until I was finally able to pull it off ... in strips ... five, to be exact ... all the while getting mayo all over every one of my fingers.
I get it. I get it. You are making my life a little safer by making sure someone doesn't open a jar of mayonnaise and spit in it or something. I really am eternally grateful for that. But gee whiz! The lengths to which I must go just to smear some mayo on my sandwich. It's mind-boggling, and after the day I've had, slightly annoying.
Just sayin'.
And then there's the educational loan specialists. Listen, I know I change the furniture arrangement in my living room around A LOT. I like variety. So, sue me! But the only real person I am affecting by this constant rearrangement of furniture is The Cat, and, quite honestly, I find a certain amount of joy in annoying her, seeing as she doesn't blink an eye when annoying me.
My educational loan "holders," lets call them ... they change like I change my underwear.
I change those daily, just in case there was a question.
I mean, I have a crap-ton of loans. Will have for the foreseeable future, and good grief! I've had a TON of loan holders for all those loans I have ... all the bunches and bunches of loans. So, of course, I get this lovely note today that says, and I quote, because, honestly, it's too laughable NOT to:
"Nothing has changed YET -- you can still visit _________ for account access. Stay tuned over the next few months for information about website changes and payment methods."
Dude! You don't understand who you are dealing with here. You are super duper lucky you get the payment every month! I. HATE. PAYING. BILLS. I'd rather go to my girl doctor every week for a month, and I really, really dislike going to her. The fact that you are asking me to stayed tuned is the most laughable thing I've read in since, well, forever! I can barely remember that the gigantic pile of envelopes spewing paper every where and creating a whole situation on my kitchen counter are bills that are begging for attention like NOW. And you want me to stay tuned?
Listen, just send me the address to where I am suppose to send my old school check, and we'll both skip through life with smiles on our faces and no worse off for it. I don't need you changing payment options on me or messing with my already shaky, at best, bill-paying methodology. Nothing good can come from that.
And garbage day. I am alllll about a community garbage pick up. I am beyond thrilled that a portion of my taxes goes toward the job of picking up my garbage. But, seriously, after a day of making a ton of decision and hearing my name squealed at various decibels throughout the day as well as picking up after my little mess makers, gathering garbage from all over the house, taking it down stairs and then dragging it uphill to my road is just a bummer. And I have had enough bummers in my day as it is. So, adding insult to injury here is just plain cruel.
My mother always said life isn't fair. Nobody said it would be.
Profound, isn't she?
Welcome to my childhood.
But she's right. Life isn't fair. If it were, I would ride to work on a rainbow-colored unicorn everyday while catching the Skittles that are raining down upon me in my mouth and waiting for my Prince Charming, who will be making me dinner while taking the peelable covers off all of our jars. Then, he will set about paying the bills and taking out the garbage.
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