I seen the new Jerry Seinfeld and Bill Gates commercial tonight while watching Kitchen Nightmares with my husband. After it was over my husband said this:
"Wow, that commercial made no sense. Like Windows."
Exactly. Here’s the Youtube vid of the commercial, in case you missed it:
Yesterday I was downloading some music from Limewire when my Mac slowed down to a snails pace. I tried to force quit out of some applications (that’s a control, alt, delete to you Windows philistines) but was unsuccessful. At that point, I tried to reboot my mac.
This is when I started to cry.
I could not get it to boot up. At all.
Rich looked at it and did some diagnostics on it and determined my hard drive has several bad sectors. Long story short….I’m going to need a new hard drive. We’ve ordered one from Ebay and I’m anxiously awaiting its arrival. Until then, limited email, blogging and comment posting. I’ll be able to do some stuff from work, but that’s about it. Rich has graciously allowed me to use his work laptop to post this and occasionally check my email.
Do you know what its like to not have a computer? I wander around the house looking for stuff to do, to CLEAN. I see stuff on TV and wish I could wikipedia or imdb it. I don’t know what the weather is like, what time it is, or what day it is. I am pathetically addicted to the internet. There was a severe thunderstorm watch for like 3 hours and I just found out about it now.
I’ve been following the Brett Favre story for a few weeks now, so when I watched the news this morning and seen that Brett had been traded to the Jets I wanted to cry. The Jets? Seriously? Is that the best we can do at this point?! What am I supposed to with my Packers-Favre jersey now? Should I still like the Packers or now do I have to like the Jets?
The Jets. Ew. Unacceptable. Lets face it, none of the football teams from the northeast are really any good. I mean Pittsburgh did win the Superbowl a few years back, but there were some really questionable calls during that game.
Here’s a picture of Owen and I in our Favre jerseys:
Maybe I can dye them black so we can officially go into mourning.
I just really wish that Tori and Dean Spelling reality show would go off the air. Like who gives a crap what is going on in either of their lives? Not me. Apparently, because they are famous celebrities and have lots of money and have two babies that makes them special little snowflakes.
I had taken Owen to his 2 year old well visit with his pediatrician yesterday. Thankfully, Owen didn’t need to get any shots, he was all caught up on that for the time being. Next time we go though it’ll be 2 shots. Flu shot & Hepatitis A. That will be a fun treat. I had asked the doctor if he happened to get any results from the ultrasound that I took Owen for on Thursday. The pediatrician’s nurse said that, yes, they did. "They had just come in this morning" and she went to get them. The doctor looked at them and stated to me that it looked like there were 2 hydroceles according to the ultrasound pictures. They were 2 different sizes. He said to call the urologist later on because he probably has them as well. At that point the urologist would figure out how we need to deal with them. Ok. After the doctor left the room, I peaked into the file and noticed the same thing, with a bunch of medical mumbo jumbo I couldn’t understand.
After I had taken Owen back to daycare and got myself some lunch I tried to call the urologist. It was about 1:15 and the answering service answered….Try back in an hour. Ok.
I called back 2 times after that to get only busy signals. Fine.
I finally got through around 2:30 and asked the receptionist if my son’s test results were in. She asked me the name, and what kind of test it was, blah blah blah. After she had found out it was an ultrasound she proceded to get snotty with me. "YOU AREN’T SUPPOSED TO CALL HERE FOR TEST RESULTS. WE CALL YOU." Ok. Now when I was in the office on Wednesday and they had called and made the appointment for the ultrasound I had asked them flat out: "After he gets the ultrasound, when will we know the results? What’s the next steps after this?" The person I had spoken to there (WHO WAS NICE) said to try to call Friday afternoon or Monday afternoon for the results and "we’ll go from there". WTF. I’m not an idiot. I know what I heard. Now this bitch on the phone is copping an attitude with me?! I ended up giving the woman on the phone my cell phone number and she said she’d call when they had the results and the dr. reviewed them. At that point I said "Ok, Thanks. Bye." This bitch just hangs up. All I hear is *CLICK*. No "you’re welcome", no "bye". Just *click*.
What the fuck?
I’m sorry that I care about my son’s health. I guess I shouldn’t give a damn, because no one else seems to care either.
And if you are thinking "Well, maybe they don’t really have the results, Michelle. Calm the F down." Save it. The pediatrician, urologist and MRI place are within 5 blocks of each other in Kingston. If the pediatrician has the results, they have the results as well.
I’m annoyed. That woman is lucky I don’t jump over the desk and strangle her with a stethoscope the next time I’m in that office.
Another day, another birthday. This time it’s Russell, my brother. He turns 22 today, which makes me feel….old. We are six years apart, so you do the math.
Then: A bright blue-eyed toddler with white blonde hair. (Yes, that’s me sitting next to him)
Then: A boy playing in a snow bank taller than he was.
Well I was just woken up by LOUD thunder and lightning. I had to run outside in my night shirt, (I hope the neighbors appreciated the view) and rescue the lawn chairs so they didn’t get soaked. I was JUST in time, because once I got them on the porch, it started TORENTIALLY RAINING.
F*CK!
So now its going to be like this all day and we are having a party OUTSIDE at 2pm. WTF.
Hyper ventilating. After I did all of that work and bullshit all week, this is how I’m going to be thanked. I hate you mother nature.
Rain rain, go the fuck away.
On an unrelated note; In case you ever need to — You can put sneakers in the washer and dryer. I was able to dry Owen’s soaked sneakers Thursday night without them shrinking or melting. I then washed and dried Gabby’s sneakers and they are now sans poop.
Thank god, I spend 80 dollars (40 a piece) on those sneakers 2 weeks ago.
If they were ruined I would have strangled the both of them. I kid. I kid. But they would have been in mucho trouble.