What is pissing you off this time?

[jimhelm]

Oh...and..3am, zip? That's tomorrow!

[HungLikeJesus]

Are you calling SamIam an incomplete ditz?

[monster]

I guess that she depends what she does next.....

[Clodfobble]

An IUD may stop the periods, but it sure as fuck doesn't stop the PMS. I am a twitchy ball of agitation and I hate everyone today.

[DanaC]

Licensing agreements for audiobooks.

Fucking annoyed I am.

Some months ago I bought the first book in a new series of books by Guillermo Del Toro (of Pan's Labyrinth fame) called The Strain. It was very good. Both myself and Mum really enjoyed it. At that point only the first was available on audio.

I checked audible for new releases as is my habit, and there was the third instalment of The Strain Trilogy. Ok, interesting, must have missed the second right?

Wrong. The second book (The Fall) is available on the US site, but not the Uk site.

I phoned customer service and was told about how sometimes the publisher will change midway through a series, or maybe it's an error, but he;d look into it.

I just got an amail from them thanking me for my enquiry and explaining that audiobooks are licensed by region. Apparently, I should log into the site rather than browse as a guest because that way i won't be troubled by listings for books that are not licensed to my region.

That was not the point of my complaint. Having books 1 and 3, but not book 2 was my complaint.

So, I just went checking anyway, and it turns out that all three books are the same publisher. So wtf?

[jimhelm]

not 1, not 2, but THREE sets of customers just walked in at 8:30.

what

the

fuck

[Pete Zicato]

Originally Posted by jimhelm

not 1, not 2, but THREE sets of customers just walked in at 8:30.

what

the

fuck

Well you don't close until 9. Where's the problem?




I kid.

[Spexxvet]

Originally Posted by jimhelm

not 1, not 2, but THREE sets of customers just walked in at 8:30.

what

the

fuck

Notice to all consumers: when you do this, we hate you.

[HungLikeJesus]

Originally Posted by Spexxvet

Notice to all consumers: when you do this, we hate you.

Yes, but you still want our money.

[ZenGum]

Who do you think you are, expecting to have some kind of life?

You exist to work, drone.

[Trilby]

My son.

He's outta here.

[infinite monkey]

Leaving on his own volition or have you just had enough, Bri?

Ugh. Hope it gets better.

[ZenGum]

If it was of his own volition, it wouldn't be in this thread.

[infinite monkey]

Yeah, that's true.

[footfootfoot]

I feel like my life is the Wonderful One-Hoss Shay.

The Refrigerator is not so cold any longer...

Oliver Wendell Holmes
Have you heard of the wonderful one-hoss shay,
That was built in such a logical way
It ran a hundred years to a day,
And then of a sudden it — ah, but stay,
I’ll tell you what happened without delay,
Scaring the parson into fits,
Frightening people out of their wits, –
Have you ever heard of that, I say?

Seventeen hundred and fifty-five.
Georgius Secundus was then alive, –
Snuffy old drone from the German hive.
That was the year when Lisbon-town
Saw the earth open and gulp her down,
And Braddock’s army was done so brown,
Left without a scalp to its crown.
It was on that terrible Earthquake-day
That the Deacon finished the one-hoss shay.

Now in building of shaises, I tell you what,
There is always a weakest spot, –
In hub, tire, felloe, in spring or thill,
In pannel or crossbar, or floor, or sill,
In screw, bolt, throughbrace, — lurking still,
Find it somewhere you must and will, –
Above or below, or within or without, –
And that’s the reason, beyond a doubt,
That a chaise breaks down, but doesn’t wear out.

But the Deacon swore (as deacons do,
With an "I dew vum," or an "I tell yeou")
He would build one shay to beat the taown
‘n’ the keounty ‘n’ all the kentry raoun’;
It should be so built that it couldn’ break daown:
"Fer," said the Deacon, "’t's mighty plain
Thut the weakes’ place mus’ stan’ the strain;
‘n’ the way t’ fix it, uz I maintain, is only jest
‘T’ make that place uz strong uz the rest."

So the Deacon inquired of the village folk
Where he could find the strongest oak,
That couldn’t be split nor bent nor broke, –
That was for spokes and floor and sills;
He sent for lancewood to make the thills;
The crossbars were ash, from the the straightest trees
The pannels of whitewood, that cuts like cheese,
But lasts like iron for things like these;

The hubs of logs from the "Settler’s ellum," –
Last of its timber, — they couldn’t sell ‘em,
Never no axe had seen their chips,
And the wedges flew from between their lips,
Their blunt ends frizzled like celery-tips;
Step and prop-iron, bolt and screw,
Spring, tire, axle, and linchpin too,
Steel of the finest, bright and blue;
Throughbrace bison-skin, thick and wide;
Boot, top, dasher, from tough old hide
Found in the pit when the tanner died.
That was the way he "put her through,"
"There!" said the Deacon, "naow she’ll dew!"

Do! I tell you, I rather guess
She was a wonder, and nothing less!
Colts grew horses, beards turned gray,
Deacon and deaconess dropped away,
Children and grandchildren — where were they?
But there stood the stout old one-hoss shay
As fresh as on Lisbon-earthquake-day!

EIGHTEEN HUNDRED; — it came and found
The Deacon’s masterpiece strong and sound.
Eighteen hindred increased by ten; –
"Hahnsum kerridge" they called it then.
Eighteen hundred and twenty came; –
Running as usual; much the same.
Thirty and forty at last arive,
And then come fifty and FIFTY-FIVE.

Little of of all we value here
Wakes on the morn of its hundredth year
Without both feeling and looking queer.
In fact, there’s nothing that keeps its youth,
So far as I know, but a tree and truth.
(This is a moral that runs at large;
Take it. — You’re welcome. — No extra charge.)

FIRST OF NOVEMBER, — the Earthquake-day, –
There are traces of age in the one-hoss shay,
A general flavor of mild decay,
But nothing local, as one may say.
There couldn’t be, — for the Deacon’s art
Had made it so like in every part
That there wasn’t a chance for one to start.
For the wheels were just as strong as the thills
And the floor was just as strong as the sills,
And the panels just as strong as the floor,
And the whippletree neither less or more,
And the back-crossbar as strong as the fore,
And the spring and axle and hub encore.
And yet, as a whole, it is past a doubt
In another hour it will be worn out!

First of November, fifty-five!
This morning the parson takes a drive.
Now, small boys get out of the way!
Here comes the wonderful one-hoss shay,
Drawn by a rat-tailed, ewe-necked bay.
"Huddup!" said the parson. — Off went they.

The parson was working his Sunday’s text, –
Had got to fifthly, and stopped perplexed
At what the — Moses — was coming next.
All at once the horse stood still,
Close by the meet’n'-house on the hill.
First a shiver, and then a thrill,
Then something decidedly like a spill, –
And the parson was sitting upon a rock,
At half past nine by the meet’n'-house clock, –
Just the hour of the earthquake shock!

What do you think the parson found,
When he got up and stared around?
The poor old chaise in a heap or mound,
As if it had been to the mill and ground!
You see, of course, if you’re not a dunce,
How it went to pieces all at once, –
All at once, and nothing first, –
Just as bubbles do when they burst.

End of the wonderful one-hoss shay.
Logic is logic. That’s all I say.