This must've been mentioned already a million times, but can someone please fix the clock on the server? Post whores like yours truly live and die by statistics like that. Yes, I know I haven't been anything remotely like a post whore on , but that's partly because every time I look in on the current posts here, I always think I'm 2 days late and everyone's buggered off to eGullet.org.

I think it's up to you. Go to My Controls. Go to Board Settings and make the adjustment. [Or, continue to live in the past.]

Hollywood -- I wasn't talking about the time, but about the date. The server clock is currently set to September 14. Using My Controls, I can set my relative time zone, but September 14 is currently 48 time zones in the past, and My Controls only go up to 12.

Also, I'd like to point out that, with respect to , I'm actually living in the future.

If you fix the time, the date will be corrected as well.

http://www.mouthfulsfood.com/forums/index....361&hl=marshall

We must make allowances for Ivan. He was around in the 1800s, I believe.

On the running machine at the gym, working out pretty hard and consequently sweating quite a lot, had my headphones on but could still hear what was going on around me. Some stupid bitch behind me, saying quite loudly to her friend who was behind her "look at how much he's sweating, it's disgusting..." etc. (I think she was pissed because she wanted to get on the running machine). Had to tell her "its a fucking gym hon, if you can't deal with sweat then maybe you're in the wrong place" was also tempted to add that if she worked the rest of her body as hard as she worked her mouth then maybe she would sweat too.

Fucking common bitch.

The weekend is about to start, and so is the rain and so is some kind of chest infection. I only wish farting would help me, because I'm sure it can be arranged. Some ancient and dubious "promise" has been invoked to force me to go to an "action" movie at the cinema which will doubtless last long enough for me to miss El Duque bamboozling the Red Sox.

What can I turn to for consolation? Oh yes: two handed drinking.

What flick you going to see?

Speaking of farting my pirate name is Fartin' Roberta Dregg.

Wilfrid, I'll see your two hands and raise you one.

The G line will be running the F line. The Q line will be running the M line between A and B and the T line between E anf F. The 4, 5 and 6 lines will be pulling a 7 and the R line will just be going back and forth between 40th and 38th streets. If you're thinking of taking the L line, you might want to consider the ç line instead.

Barbra Streisand.

This is the Annoyances thread, right? Oh yes.

Barbra Streisand.

Grrrrr. I hate when people say "mozzarella cheese." Grrrrrrr.

Baby's got a head cold. Snot everywhere. RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!

President Bush has to make a speech to the UN, so midtown closed for the rest of the week.

The Bride of Federline.

Persistent headache all day Paracetamol worn off and haven't got any more with me

v

How can people overdraw their checking accounts that much?

I managed to inflict a slash akin to a deep paper cut on the pad of my left thumb while in the process of removing an incredibly stubborn screw cap from a bottle of NZ sauvignon blanc. Did this on Friday and the sucker keeps reopening and bleeding all over the place, including on my brand new tote bag. Anyone have any thoughts on removing bloodstains from leather?

And before any wags jump in with suggestions, let me say, pre-emptively as it were, that you can keep your minds out of the gutter on this one.

And before any wags jump in with suggestions, let me say, pre-emptively as it were, that you can keep your minds out of the gutter on this one. [/QUOTE]
Perhaps a cobbler/leather shop could tell you what to do. Worst case, you dye it blood color.

What’s a man to do when he’s bein’ accused
I hear you talkin’ it’s real bad news
Nothin’ happened with that girl last night
So baby won’t you tell me why
You got your mind in the gutter
You got your mind in the gutter

Headsets, or rather the improper use of. I do a great deal of business over the phone, and while the majority of people I deal with come through clear as a bell, I spend way too much time saying, "Excuse me?" or, "Will you speak up, please?" to cluelesss gits who sound as if they are speaking from the bottom of a well. I have incredibly acute hearing---a beau once told me I should consider being a spy because he swore I could hear around corners--so that's not the problem.

And I have a toothache.

I just realized I need to post in Reasons to be Cheerful or everyone will think I'm nothing but a whining kvetch.

Some fellas look at the eyes
Some fellas look at the nose
Some fellas look at the size
Some fellas look at the clothes
I don't care if her eyes are red
I don't care if her nose is long
I don't care if she's underfed
I don't care if her clothes are worn
First I look at the purse!

So, maybe this has been covered already. It would be a supreme Annoyance to have to read through 40 pages of annoyances to find out.

It really, really chaps my ass when someone or a whole family can't be bothered answering the phone, and so let voice mail get it all. And then they can't be bothered checking their messages. I ask you: how the fuck are you supposed to communicate with them? They don't check e-mail, either.

So what can I do for you.

So I'm reading down the lines and fully expecting a different ending:

Some fellas look at the eyes
Some fellas look at the nose
Some fellas look at the size
Some fellas look at the clothes
I don't care if her eyes are red
I don't care if her nose is long
I don't care if she's underfed
I don't care if her clothes are worn......

eyes, nose, size, clothes?

what happened to old-fashioned T&A? (not that I approve of such language )

Well, just as background, let's mention that the airplane's lights didn't work, and they only figured that out once they'd moved us from the lounge to the narrow, airless corridor leading to the plane. Then they took half an hour before telling us why we'd been imprisoned; and although they fixed the lights, the video system wasn't working in most seats, and because we'd missed our take off slot, we had to sit around with no AC for nearly an hour.

This is just background.

Now, I had spent an hour or so in an airline lounge before boarding the plane. Complimentary booze is available - pour-it-yourself - but I had restricted myself to a can of beer. After the long delay between leaving the lounge and the plane getting airbound, we eventually get the complimentary trolley drink service.

"A vodka and tonic, please."

She hands me one of those little plastic bottles and a can of tonic. Then she says to me, "Would you like any wine with your meal?" Sure. So I get a quarter bottle of red plonk for later. Then I say:

"Can I have one more of those little bottles of vodka." Because I assume I am not going to see the trolley for another hour, if at all.

And then I get a lecture. She tells me the tonic water is the only soft drink I have, and that the other drinks are alcoholic. She tells me the vodkas are doubles. She tells me I might get a headache. She offers me some water,

I have to say, the main reason I am not in jail right now, is that it's fairly difficult to headbutt someone when restrained by a seat belt.

I persisted in ordering further drinks subsequently, of course, mainly to give myself a reason to complain to the cabin service director, but my server complied through gritted teeth.

"Thank you, Madam. How fascinating that you are equipped with such a wealth of information. You must be a graduate of one of the finest medical schools."

And my back aches.

I left a favorite sweater to dry on a towel spread on the dining room table, without bothering to think like a cat. They considered the whole setup a new toy, of course, and I found the poor sweater crumpled up on the floor, with several puncture wounds. Repairable with a teensy crochet hook, I'm hoping.

Cathy, believe me i know the feeling - Cherry the dog succeeded to destroy so many things in the house: books, area rugs, furniture, when she was growing up. We were patient as labs maturing very slow till the age of three or something, but she ate my just bought shoes when she was already four years old, and sistematically trashes all the cosmetics she can get from my daughter's bathroom (we're forced to keep the door opened for cat's access to a litter box) .