It's all I can do

So Shelle over at Blok-Thoughts is doing the "Don't you hate it when" contest for a second month. I have never gotten any votes, but it's still good fun. So here goes ...

I'm in school. Working hard to get my assignments in on time, but it's not working out so well. After a few mediocre assignment grades, I thought my marker might be penalizing me for late submissions. But in hindsight, I don't think he is.

Why?

Because on my most recent assignment, which I submitted on time, my marker docked me three of the five available marks on one question because I didn't specify per unit profit of $36. But the question asked for total profit, not per unit profit. And I showed the calculation as the number of units sold multiplied by this: ($180 - $144), where $180 is the selling price per unit and $144 is the cost per unit. So out of curiosity, what does $180 - $144 equal? And why did I lose three marks?

I hate it when that happens. Don't you?

Now, go and visit Shelle. Read. Vote. Play. Have fun! I'm going to go beat my head against the wall until things start making sense to me. It's all I can do.

STOP in the name of all that is holy

Don't you hate it when the signage is totally unclear?


Oh dear! The signs seem to be saying something. But what? What to do, what to do?

We saw this charming little display while waiting in the drive-thru line at Second Cup. Now, I don't know exactly what happened here. Perhaps someone decided that their job was to put a sign up but it's someone else's job to remove a sign that's fallen? Or maybe the job was just triple booked? But whatever else happens, I think they want you to stop here. A lot.

Shelle over at Blok Thoughts is hosting the "Don't You Hate It When" contest. Go over and check her out. Play along. Vote for me. Or someone else if you prefer. Whatever you like.

Also: Stick around here if you like. Check out N's photo retrospective from yesterday. Baby is 5 months old now. They get so big so fast!

Don't you hate it when ...

Don't you hate it when you get stuck behind this guy in the drive-thru?


What on earth could he be getting? It's taking forever! And he's so short, he can barely see through the windshield. Plus, he cut me off driving into the line. Jerk!

Shelle at Blok Thoughts is running a contest. Wanna play?

Swing low sweet chariot

And the saga of last week's post continues.

Don't you hate it when the ridiculously necessary baby swing's motor dies at 4:00 on a Sunday afternoon and the stores close at 5:00, and you've got family in from out of town who are visting with you while the baby refuses to quiet because he misses his swing, so your husband packs up your over tired 3-year old and heads to the store to hunt for a replacement baby swing and he finds a sweet deal on a travel swing and, after confirming with you that you can get the baby out of the shorter swing even while you are laid up with your broken knee, he buys the new very cute travel swing and brings it home where he discovers several more family members who have all shown up to visit, and then he decides to noisily put the new swing together with the help of the crazed 3-year old who tries his very best to scratch up your laminate flooring with the metal pieces of the new swing which takes C-batteries whereas the old swing took D-batteries and you have no C-batteries in the house, so your husband buys new C-batteries and installs them in the new travel swing and then discovers that the brand new swing doesn't work, and it's now after 5:00 and the stores are closed, so you make a few frantic phone calls and round up a working replacement swing that you can buy and that can be picked up that night, but it's out of town, so after dropping off the visiting family member at her hotel you all head off to pick up the new swing which it turns out was being stored in a shed with a lawnmower and smelled so strongly of oil that the nice folks who are providing it to you became concerned and sprayed it with Febreze and, after getting it home, you discover that you are apparently allergic to Febreze and you end up with a migraine headache from the smell, so you try to mask the odour with lime air freshener and then put the baby in the seat, where he fusses, and when you pull him out you find that both the swing and the baby now smell like a combination of oil, Febreze, and lime, which combination actually seems to worsen your migraine, and so you have to strip off all the fabric from the new swing and use the seat covers and mobile attachments from the old swing, but then you notice that the smell is also firmly embeded in the swing's security straps, which are not interchangeable, and so while the smell no longer annoys the baby anywhere near as much, it still gives you a pretty nasty headache, such that you cannot read your textbook and get caught up on the course in which you are already a week and a half behind?

Right. Me too.

You can still play too.

Rotten day

Don't you hate it when you're laid up with a broken knee that you got when you fell down the stairs after tripping over the cat in a bizarre laundry-related incident, and your generally happy 4-month old chooses this moment to start cutting teeth, and the Tylenol doesn't make him feel much better and the Orajel doesn't last long enough, and you can't figure out how else to soothe him because what he really likes is movement, but you can't pick him up and carry him around because you're on crutches and you just don't have that many hands or that much coordination, so you put him in his swing to try to soothe him only to discover that the swing batteries are now dead and the swing will no longer rock in the particular rhythm to which your 4-month old has become accustomed and no other rhythm will pacify him, and you can't fix this because all of the batteries are kept in an inconveniently situated cupboard that you can't easily get to with the crutches, and they're also in a heavy case so that, even if you could get to it, you can't pick it up and sort through it while on the crutches because of the aforementioned lack of hands and coordination, and so you can't keep your 4-month old happy no matter what you do, so you just have to try to keep smiling and crooning to him in soothing tones while he screams directly in your ear in a piercing tone that sounds like some kind of demented whale in heat while your cat tears around the house like a bat-out-of-hell making bizarre noises as he tries to catch that one housefly that just won't die?

Yeah. Me too.

Wanna play?