have to rant about this someplace.

I'm on an international conference call with a guy in California, one in France and one someplace else, but he sounds German. It's taken 38 fucking minutes to get everyone logged in on the same page - and now we've lost one of them. Turns out he's not even in the office. Wonderful - I have no idea whether we've lost the German or the Frenchman. Oh well. Onward.

So I've got people who speak 2 other languages on the line and both of them have A) bad connections and B) different things they don't understand when I say them and C) different ways of saying the same word so that *I* can't understand it.

So, is this a clusterfuck or a goatfuck?


(it's over, and only 15 minutes past the allotted hour. This is why I schedule an hour between calls.)

Man, I need a nap. This weekend was a total loss - Eric ended up in the ER with a kidney stone on Friday night around 8pm (he was treated and released by 2am). I tried to mow the lawn (gag) with our nice drag you along mower, but NOOO, the bulb you pump to prime the damn thing POURS OUT GAS! So I end up using my sister's old mower that supposedly has some form of auto-drag. I was half expecting it to blow up and take me along considering how much gas I had on myself at that point.

My mower will yank your arms out if you aren't paying attention. Hers... well, it leaves a lot to be desired. Oh, sure, if you want to spend an extra five to twelve hours mowing the yard, you can follow along with the mower. I, on the other hand, wished to be done before moon rise brought out the packs of coyotes.

I almost got done before I ran out of light. Then came the challenge of wrestling two freaking mowers into a tiny storage space so that I could lock them up. Fuckers. I won in the end.

My shoulder (which had not been hurting since Wednesday) now feels like someone has drilled a hole in it and poured in fire ants. And my foot hurts from where I kicked the mower. My other shoulder now hurts in sympathy. Not as bad, but uncomfortable all the same.

Then there's the fact that it looks like I had the Special Olympics Mowing Team do my yard. I ran out of time Saturday night to finish and Sunday I couldn't bring myself to wrestle out the bastard mower from hell.

So, let's see what the neighbors have seen of the new people so far!
Days 1-4
Giant barking dog (with small auxiliary dog) on 4am walk. Check.
Ambulance. Check.
Screaming, cursing man curled up on stretcher. Check.
(hours of quiet pass)
Cursing man (no longer cursing) and fat woman home. Fat woman pukes in yard. Check.

Day 5
Big fucking dog and smaller auxiliary dog draging around sick and tired looking fat woman at 5a, 7a, 10a and 3p. Check.
Fat angry woman yelling at leaking lawn mower. Check.
Fat, somewhat less angry, very red faced woman shoving lawnmower around lot. Check.
Fat, red faced woman muttering evil things about that poor bastard
Possibly fat, probably angry woman mowing yard in dark. Check.
Very angry fat woman kicking lawnmower in attempt to make it get into fucking shed. Check.
Very angry fat woman yelling at husband to go away, she'll put the fucking lawnmower in the fucking shed on her fucking own. Check.
Fat woman who smells like gasoline walking giant dog (with smaller auxiliary dog). Check.
Cursing fat woman pulling stickers out of giant dog while smaller auxiliary dog tries to kill her with the leash. Check.

(quiet night follows - thank god)

Day 6.
Special Olympics Yard Design. Check.
Suspiciously quiet house. Check

(no doubt the neighbors figured I'd killed Eric when in reality I just couldn't move my arms. Manhandling lawnmowers is bad for you. Seriously.)

Day 7 (predictions)
Neighborhood lawn police out mowing yard. Check
Fat woman cursing "We mowed your yard for $40" notice on front porch. Check.