Having a rant

Cross is not the word!

I have murder on my mind… my printer has gone on the blink.

With a deadline fast approaching it’s good to be able to rely on computers, printers and modern technology to be there and to work beautifully. After all, isn’t that why we spend so much of our hard-earned cash on them?

So,… my printer has gone on the blink.  Okay, I don’t submit my writing by snail mail, but, it would be good to print it off and actually see what my masterpiece looks like. We don’t always pick up on the little mistakes, on a computer screen – but, when we read from a printed piece… it’s all too obvious. Our stupid mistakes STAND OUT! YOU ARE SO STUPID!

I’ve devoted the best part of two of my precious days this week, trying to coax the little sod into actually printing what I need it to print. It prints – but nothing that I want. I’ve done printer maintenance, changed cartridges, being on help sites, cleaned the printer heads with alcohol and so many other things I can’t remember. I’ve lost the will to live and seriously fantasized about purchasing an axe and smashing the blasted thing into little pieces. But, I suspect the actually axing to death of the damn thing would aggravate my fibromyalgia something rotten.

I’ll kill it in a story instead.

I might also buy  a new printer. So, my son-in-law can arrive the day after I’ve set up the new printer, press a button and make it all better – because he actually understands these things. And before you say it… no, he can’t talk me through it on the phone, because I am a complete computer, tablet, mobile phone and printer der brain.

It was all so much better in the days of typewriters. With a typewriter I would actually have a typed copy. Granted it would be covered in Tippex, have numerous typed over words and it would be my 100th attempt at getting it right… but it would be physical. I could hold it in my hand… and see the glaringly stupid mistake – right at the beginning of the feature. Then, I could take the same axe to the typewriter.

I’m not violent  – honestly. Just a wee bit frustrated by all of this wonderful modern technology.

Now, if you will excuse me, I have to go and drown a printer… then I’ll attack it with an axe!

Anyone else having fun with their technological gismos?

Thanks for dropping by.

Dorne x

 

A right load of old garbage.

wheelie-bin-saga-2Back in the day, here in the UK and I’m guessing quite probably in a quite a few other parts of the world, households had a simple metal dustbin. We even made up songs about it here in good old Blighty.

“My old man’s a dustman he wears a dustman’s hat. He wears cor blimey trousers and he lives in a council flat.”

 

Sang Lonnie Donegan in 1960.

And here’s the proof.

Once upon a time the dustman came to collect your one metal dustbin, which was discretely tucked away in a corner of your garden. He would leave the lid and haul the bin, on his shoulder to the waiting wagon. Then, he would return the empty bin, replace the lid and if you were super lucky… close the gate after himself. And the bins were emptied every week – not fortnightly.

The downside of it was – there were massive landfill sites, scarring the landscape and gulls the size of a small dog feasting on the festering mess.  We were rapidly running out of places to dump our garbage and something had to be done.

These days we have a bin for household waste, recycled waste and garden waste.

wheelie-bin-saga

They come in lovely bright colours, such as blue, green and black. Some of us have small courtyard gardens and have opted to use garden refuse sacks, which have to be bought  and a licence obtained in order for the bin men to stop and lob the sacks  into the back of their huge wagons.

The remaining two bins in garish colours and proudly displaying the name of our local borough council – lest we forget who the magnificent things belong to, take up about a sixth of our yard. They blend in perfectly and in summer positively hum – but not with the sound of insects.

At this point, after I’ve emptied an entire bottle of concentrated disinfectant into it and it still smells like a mini landfill – because it has been sitting there festering in a heat wave for two weeks, I dump it the passage at the back of our cottages.

The day before bin day we drag the monsters around to the front of the house. I know there are some folk out there who have about a mile to walk from their house to the bottom of the lane, with their wheelie bin… because these super-duper vans can’t come up the lanes these days. We are asked to put the bins out for 6am on the collection day. I have yet to see a van out at that time – but, we live with the fear of being left with the festering mess for another two weeks – that would give us a month’s worth of garbage – very nasty garbage to contend with.

It’s easy to see when the bin men have been… various wheelie bins are scattered all over the pavement. If you’re pushing a pushchair, or driving a scooter enormous fun can be had tackling the obstacle course. Sometimes you actually have to move the bins out-of-the-way.

In order to cut down on the waste material that can now be sent for recycling, packages arrive in huge cardboard boxes filled with about a tree’s worth of brown paper. The pen that you ordered is in perfect condition and the box and paper fill your recycling bin.

I’ve had a run – in with our local council recently over them failing to empty our recycling bin. It was happening all too frequently. We live on the main road that runs through the heart of our village. On bin day the road is a sea of bin wagons and yet on several occasions recently not one of them stopped to empty our bins.

Just what kind of service were we paying for and surely common sense should have told them to stop and sort out the line of seven eagerly waiting to be emptied bins? Er… no.

Anyhow, after a series of rather silly emails that they sent to me and which annoyed the hell out of me, the matter has now been happily rectified.

At my most mad moment I took to Twitter… a la Donald Trump style.

Just who the hell do I think I’m talking to? I asked myself. I’m not one of the most powerful people in the world.

But, it felt so good. I’ll give Trump that.

However my series of garbled and somewhat confusing messages will be out there forever! Not so good.

I growled at the woman in the refuse department when she couldn’t and wouldn’t answer my questions.

” If you don’t stop shouting at me I will end this call.” She told me.

Honey, if you think that is shouting you need to develop thicker skin. I didn’t swear at you, insult you, or use my extensive sarcasm on you. I had to raise my voice because you wouldn’t let me get a word in edgeways!

All is now well in the garbage garden and we’ve kissed and made up. I have the manager of the department on speed dial and I’ve emailed him to ask him to send my apologies to the woman who was on the end of my frustration.

I was going to ring her and then I thought she might just have a nervous breakdown. Best not.

My beautiful garbage bins are now back in the garden and look as wonderful as ever. And, as I’ve taken delivery of a packet of TENS Machines pads this morning… the packaging for it has now filled the recycling bin. Roll on the next fortnight!

How about you?

Do your bins get emptied and do the bins fill your garden? Do they hum to you in summer? It would be interesting to know how other parts of the world tackle their garbage.

I know – I need to get out more.

Thanks for dropping by.

Dorne x

 

 

 

 

Walking upright is so underrated: confessions of a temporary Quasimodo.

walking-post-2Well hallelujah! I can walk upright again and without the aid of my trusty walking stick. Walking upright is so very underrated.

Sunday saw me resembling some weird combination of Quasimodo crossed with a constipated duck. What does a constipated duck look like? Me – yesterday. I had that slow and slightly wobbly walk that they have. Hunched over and unable to straighten to my full 5ft 7 ins I tried to adopt a graceful and dignified walk.

Hubby told me : ” You look fine… you’re hardly bent over at all. “ But, I was using every bit of my strength and resolve to stay as upright as possible. My muscles at the base of my spine and in my pelvis burned, and screamed for me to sit down. They felt like rubber bands that would snap at any moment.

Back inside, I relented and Quasi was back BIG TIME!

” You stand more upright when you’re outside, you need to go outside again.” said my terribly, sympathetic husband.

Oh, you’re so funny!

Thinking about it, he probably won’t have that much sympathy. He has Parkinson’s disease and for the last twenty years since he was diagnosed,  he has gradually become more and more bent over. The difference is… he doesn’t get any relief from it. He doesn’t suddenly straighten up, like me today. He has it day in and day out… and he doesn’t moan about it – or blog about it!

Yesterday has made me appreciate just how great it is to walk tall. True, I am still sore and tender, but I am truly grateful for being able to unfurl to my true height.

I don’t know what caused my temporary back problems. It could be linked to one of many things at present.

I have given up gluten to try to help my daily headaches/migraines. I honestly can’t remember the last time I didn’t have a headache.

Some folk who give up gluten experience the withdrawal symptoms and I’m one of those. Well, what a surprise?

I’ll bore you with the ins and outs of that in a future post… when I can stay awake long enough.

walking-post-1

Right now, I’m just here to celebrate being able to walk upright again… for now.

Not a bad way to start a virgin week I reckon.

Thanks for dropping by and have yourself a great start to the new week.

Dorne (Quasi)  x

What’s this obsession with everything being neat and tidy: a quick rant!

wp_20161117_14_23_53_proIn the village where I live we have masses of leaves. My picture shows the Daisy dog having to brave these evil, little critters!  These leaves have to be controlled. They lie around in their masses, just waiting to gang up on some poor, innocent soul. I doubt other places have the same amount of leaves that we have. They are just everywhere… waiting for some excited child to run through them.

This is so not right.

So, this morning three boys from the local council came along to our road, which is the main road that winds through the village. They’d clearly heard about the leaves collecting on the grass verges and in the gutters. These untidy objects  needed to be dealt with. Why? They just did. These leaves are loitering without intent… or something along the lines of that.

leaf-blowing

Out came the leaf blowers and one guy with an old-fashioned rake. The two with the leaf blowers had enormous fun with their toys as they blew the leaves off the grass, into the air – making wonderful patterns in the air and then in to the gutters. The one with the rake just messed around up the lane for a bit… sulking – he’d wanted a leaf blower as well, but there was only two.

Both drains at the bottom of the opposite lane are well and truly blocked now. Bring on the rain and the flooded road that will follow… and I’ll be bolting to the sand bag store. Actually, these days I don’t bolt anywhere – it’s more of a wobbly slob.  But, at least the evil critters that littered the grass have been moved… about six feet to the left of where they were loitering before.

Also, and this is the really good part, anyone coming along with a pushchair or mobility scooter will not be able to locate the dropped kerb. It is several inches under the mound of festering leaves. How cool is that?

These three Christmas elves (gone very wrong)  wearing high-vis jackets have cleared off now and we are left with really big mounds of wicked leaves to go jump in slob about in. My grandson isn’t here – so someone has to do it!

High winds will re-distribute the leaves back to where they damn well want to settle. That’s evil nature for you.

Just what the hell was all that about? And we as taxpayers funded it? Well done to the jumped up little upstart that thought up that great plan, from behind his overly large, and very tidy desk.

My, I’m turning into a miserable, moaning old cow.

Why can’t folk leave things alone and let nature be her messy, beautiful self?

If those Christmas elves want something to do, they could come back after the bin men have been at lunchtime today. There’ll be plenty of stuff that doesn’t make it on to the wagon. It’ll save me picking it up, when I walk the Daisy dog later on.

But no, I guess the elves will be somewhere else aimlessly blowing hideous leaves into piles and then standing with their hands on their hips for ten minutes, before they head off to do battle with some more wicked leaves.

What I want to know now is, whether my moaning and groaning is justified/ due to my age (I’m not that old though!) /or just part of my miserable persona?

Thanks for reading.

Dorne x

 

What about our children and their children?: the Brexit – Trump Show aftermath.

shit-happens-trump-2Here in the UK democracy has taken a hit twice in the same year. Ironically, the votes for CHANGE have been made under the banner of democracy. It could be a joke – if it wasn’t so damn sad and tragic.

Brexit was sold to UK folk as boosting our failing National Health Service, with money saved from not contributing to an evil EU. All migrants became potential terrorists and Brexit made folk fear their, pre-Brexit perfectly acceptable neighbours.

Let’s get our country back – was their motto. Let’s make our country great again.

I may be missing something here, but, my memories of life in a pre EU Britain involve coastlines and beaches that were quite frankly health risks. A swim in the sea amongst turds, condoms and god knows what else was something to savour. People and their rights counted for very little. And, we lived with the constant fear of another World War and consequently one that involved ever more sophisticated weapons of mass destruction.

 

Now fast forward to America and their version of Brexit… driven by a wish to make their country great again, banish Americans and residents of America who have a different religion, way of life and blah, blah, blah.

It’s tragically familiar. We live in a world where a minority of extremists are being allowed to render us stupid, do away with our democracy and push our development as so-called intelligent human beings, backwards. We’re ruled by the fear they manufacture.

We need to listen and take the lead from today’s generations.

They are the ones that will have to live with this damn mess. Ask them and they will tell you that they wanted to remain a part of the EU, yes, it’s not a perfect animal, but it wasn’t about to attack them and eat them up. They embrace the way folk meet and talk, try to find a common ground, agree to disagree and recognise that you can’t have your cake and eat it!

For some reason the older folk ,that influenced the results, think we can.

Hey Europe, we don’t want to be part of your smelly gang anymore, but, we still expect to play and be allowed to join in… with no commitments of friendship, or give and take.

What? we can’t? BOO HOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

And now you’re going to get hard with us and exclude us? WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

But, we were once the great British Empire. You can’t do this to us.

America has now gone the same way.

Hey, we enjoyed this guy on The Apprentice and we should hire him.

He is hugely racist, sexist, lacks respect for women, can’t control his temper and hugely fancies himself and as Mr President. You’re hired! Oh, and watch out for your genitals… he just can’t help himself. If he sees beautiful he’s just got to kiss it and stuff.

And now he’s  THE PRESIDENT ELECT . He can do what he damn well likes.

Go on, give him THE box with the nukes in and watch him play.

Just like a child, he’ll build walls, knock em down and make up his game as he goes along.

He’ll take away affordable health care for the masses, cancel trade deals and accelerate global warming. It’s all about America…  right? Don’t even mention the racist card that he holds.

And now the whole  world is going to be appearing in this strange Truman Show gone very wrong. Just as Brexit cocked things up first,  we have  season 1 of The Trump show to look forward to. Only, it doesn’t stream on Netflix a la House of Cards. Frank Underwood would be an absolute pussy compared to the Trump.

But, I can’t get my head around the fact that the voters who forced these retrograde events are older. They probably own their own houses. Many of them no longer work and they are financially secure.

What about our children and their children?

Have they even considered the future generations, or is all about them? How they can improve their lifestyles , have MORE and hang everybody else.

Do they want a World War 3 so they having a matching set? Those were the good old days, hey?

 

But, what do I know? Perhaps these folk know something we don’t and they have just made the wisest decisions that will save us from our own stupidity and selfishness.. Maybe we’re not seeing the whole picture and things will work out just fine. Are we the selfish ones? Running scared? Lacking in vision?

For our children, their children and their children, I would love to be proved wrong and made to feel bad for voting against Brexit and for willing the lesser of two evils, Hillary ,into the White House.

But right now, I feel so guilty and powerless for not being able to influence/stop this shit that has happened.

Thanks for reading.

Dorne x

 

 

 

Nuisance phone calls: the latest batch.

Saved from blog.mycorporation.com

Saved from blog.mycorporation.com

Those damn and blasted nuisance phone callers keep calling…but, now I have a plan. Trouble is, since I drew up my plan the nuisances have become ever so polite and all too human.

They’re so sorry to bother me and is now a good time?

Would I be kind enough to complete a quick survey for the government?  (Excuse me whilst I choke back the tears and hysterical laughter.) No can do? Not a problem thank you for being so kind as to answer your phone.

Honestly, if I didn’t know better I’d say that they’d been tapping my phone line and have got wind of my evil plans to fight back. ( If they’ve been tapping my phone line they will have heard far, far worse than that. I hope they have been tapping my phone line…it serves them damn well right.)

Anyhow, my script…yes you read that right, has gone unread. The phone rings, my heart races and I practically break my neck to get to the phone first, to answer. TOTAL DISAPPOINTMENT! An all too human, human being is on the other end of the line, being nice. They’re still on my phone, but, they’re being nice and I can’t be a nuisance to that kind of niceness. That would make me the villain of the piece…right?

I did have one SB ( scum bag/ swine bag/ son of a bitch!) though, who claimed to be from Microsoft.

” Maam, I’m calling you to tell you that your computer has being hacked.”

Nice, I thought and you lying little SB.

” I can rectify this for you,” he continued.

” Just who are you? ” I demanded.

“Maam, you have been hacked, but I can make it alright.”

Just like putting band-aid on a poorly knee! Of course the knee wasn’t poorly before they tried to hurt it …WAS IT!

“Just how do you know I’ve been hacked?!”

“You have,” he said.

“How do I know you’re from Microsoft? You could be anyone.”

“Maam, if you open up your computer and follow the details I give you, you will see.”

Yeah, I bet I would have!

Saved from followingyourarrowblog.com

Saved from followingyourarrowblog.com

This went of for about five minutes and then another SB, purporting to be the first SB’s supervisor came on the line.

“Maam, you need to give my colleague your details and let him sort out your computer, by remote control. You’ve been HACKED! ”

This deceitful attempt to ruin my computer only came to an abrupt end when the two SB’s  were asked for a telephone number, so I could ring them back. Guess what? The line suddenly went dead.

Saved by Hugon

Saved by Hugon

But, what if someone out there had believed this despicable charade? These major SB’s could have gained access to someone’s computer to actually hack it.

Just what the hell is wrong with these people? Surely they can find some form of work that doesn’t involve fraud, dishonesty and basically being a despicable person? How do they live with themselves? How can they sleep at night? Cleaning toilets would be better than that crap! There…they’ve made me swear.

Needless to say I reported them. I won’t include the link, in case it is a fake site. I’m probably being watched by Men In Black now.

But, I’m a hopeful little soul and know it is only a matter of time before another SB rings me and I’m still hoping to be a snake whisperer, on stilts. I will be asking them a few questions of my own and sharing a few thoughts/secrets…including:

  • Can you describe yourself to me?
  • Do you love me?
  • Will you read me a story ?
  • Do you believe the Earth is round?
  • Last night I was abducted by aliens.
  • Can I sing to you?
  • I’m wearing my granny pants today.
  • Where am I?

Oh, the world is my oyster with the many things I can say to these blasted pests.

So, why not join me in my quest to give back as good as you get with these damn nuisances? Feel free to join in and let’s make their day that bit more interesting and memorable. (Like the ones you’d rather forget.)

Saved from rottencards.com

Saved from rottencards.com

They deserve everything they get.

Thanks for dropping by.

Dorne x

 

 

 

Nuisance phone calls?…not a problem. Be a nuisance right back at them!

Saved from 1950sunlimited.tumblr.com

Saved from 1950sunlimited.tumblr.com

The phone always rings when you’re

  • having lunch/dinner /tea
  • taking a bath/shower
  • on the toilet
  • are in bed…asleep/ill/making whoopee
  • are  frantically fighting with your keys to get into the house, whilst falling over the cat/dog/kids.

The silent treatment

You pick up the phone/press the answer button…and are met with silence.

You say “Hello!” three times and are just about to end the call, or rather more satisfying slam the phone back into the holder, when you hear the line go dead. Just what the hell is that all about?

The way too happy person

You take a leap of faith and answer the call. Before you’ve even got the words Hi/Hello/What do you want? out they are there.

“How are you today?” they ask brightly and start to gabble away, reading from their script. It’s a deliberate ploy to knock you off your guard. How could you possibly be anything other than polite to this person you’ve never met before in you life, who has wormed their way into your day?

Easy and here’s how.

Saved by T'riana Lynn

Saved by T’riana Lynn

My daughter has just dispatched such a person rather well and it’s given me an idea. Instead of shying away from your phone, why not embrace those blasted nuisances.

Said daughter was asked if she’d ever been on a package holiday? She replied…yes, she had been put in a package.

Had she enjoyed it?Well, she had found it rather cramped in there.

How had she found the airport? Well, being in a package had been tricky and she hadn’t seen the airport really.

Was she in debt and by how much? Yes and a million pounds.

How did she plan to deal with it? She was going to set up a brothel. (Yes, my eyebrows were suitably raised.)

My daughter told the nuisance that she would have to leave soon as she worked as a clown.

The nuisance asked how much she earned. Fifty two pence per week came the unbelievably daft response.

Only when my daughter asked the nuisance if she liked music and could she sing to her, did the pest finally hang up the phone.

Now, this might seem cruel and heartless. But, we don’t ask for our phone numbers to be sold on to pests to enable them to invade our lives. Have we had an accident, do we need new windows, do we want to try to rip off our employers in a similar vein to how they are attempting to rip us off?

Blah Blah Blah by Deborah Azzopardi http://www.easyart.com/scripts/zoom/zoom.pl?pid=421738

Blah Blah Blah by Deborah Azzopardi http://www.easyart.com/scripts/zoom/zoom.pl?pid=421738

 

As for me, I’m already working on my script for the next pest that rings. I plan to be in the process of training to be a snake whisperer…on stilts. Why stilts? I don’t really know. It just took my fancy.

I need a really good name. I’ve already been Tinky Winky  and Upsy Daisy…and yes the nuisance let me spell them out for him.

If fortune really smiles on me, I too will be rung by the package woman. I will also have been in a package on holiday. And I too will ask I can sing to her/him.

Imagine if we receivers of these damn and blasted nuisance callers all gave similar, ridiculous answers to their questions…how cool and weird would that be? I like to fantasize about them all hunched over the recorded phone calls trying to make sense of that one.

So, how about it? Fancy being the nuisance to the nuisance?

Get your phone and life back again. Don’t be scared to answer your phone.

If any of you out there work in call centres and make these calls…I do apologise…but, I really can’t help myself.

I should imagine it comes with the job. When I worked in the line of fire from clients/customers I expected it. That’s what I got paid for.

Article from the wow style

Article from the wow style

I can’t wait for the next withheld number to appear on my screen…bring it on!

Thanks for dropping by and until the next bitchy time.

Dorne x