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Okay, so it's been a while, but I've got a good excuse: On January 25, 2011, a dumbass in a red Dodge Ram ran through my apartment wall. See?
No, the idiot was not drunk. Just a fucktard who mistook the gas pedal for the brake. He told the cops that his "brakes failed".
*eye roll*
Yeah, and my middle name's 'Gullible'. Two of the employees of the apartment complex watched what happened and heard the moron hit the goddamn gas.
So, I was out of work for nearly a full two months because my job was work-from-home.
Notice the past-tense there? Not a mistake. More on that in a bit.
Anyway, more pics of the shit-for-brains and the mess he left behind:
Two things I want to point out about the photos above: Firstly, the window (which miraculously did NOT break) is the big window in Mom's bedroom. So, the photos below are the inside of her room (the majority of the mess is where her computer desk used to be). Secondly, the small pipe just to the right of the truck (it's less than 18 inches away) is the gas main to the building. Though I would have rather this not have happened to begin with, I am grateful that the goddamn motherfucker didn't hit the gas pipe. I have no desire to end this life as a human torch.
And here are the pictures of what the inside looked like after the truck was moved:
With those out of the way, a few more tidbits about my close-encounter-of-the-idiot-kind. It took the complex a full six weeks to fix the wall because the fucktard's insurance was/is dragging their feet. The company that now owns the complex finally gave up on hearing back from the insurance company and went ahead and fixed the wall - they are currently in the process of suing the insurance for their expenses. On Mom's and my side, we are also suing the fuckwit's insurance company - Mom was injured (not horribly so - she got hit with some debris and had a ginormous fuckin' bruise that went down to the bone and is still going away). The insurance paid the hospital visit (since Mom's got stainless hips, I didn't want to take any chances), but recall how my job was work-from-home? Yeah, I'm asking for lost wages. Mom's got nearly ten grand worth of stuff that was outright destroyed when the idiot went through the wall, and our lawyer is also pushing for 'emotional damages'. Now that they've finally got all the bills and whatnot, they expect it to take, and here I'll quote directly, "no more than a year, but not less than two months" before we can expect to see so much as a penny.
Okay, now that that shit's outta the way... I'm no longer work-from-home. Back at the end of March, I got moved on-site. And the stress began to escalate. And escalate. And fuckin' ESCALATE. First, there was the added hassle of having to commute. Then there was some bullshit about not being able to park in the parking area for the building where I worked - I had to park about half a block away (wouldn't have been a problem, except that the lot was across a very busy street where the closest intersection was over a mile away). And then, less than a month later, I got packed up and moved to a building all the fuck across town. What was a six-mile commute suddenly became a sixteen-mile commute. And since I was the ride for one of my fellow former work-from-homers, this turned into having to leave a full hour early because the goddamn twit doesn't know the meaning of 'on time'. Most days, our schedule began at 0600, which meant I had to be up at 0400 and at the carpooler's place by 0500. I literally cannot count the number of times the bint wasn't even awake when I got there, to say nothing of actually being ready to leave. And that doesn't even touch on the fact that the new site's 'dress code' would not allow us to wear t-shirts and jeans. They tried to say that I had to "get rid of" my bright pink hair, but backed down when I asked them to point out where in their precious fuckin' dress code it addressed hair color.
In any case, all that is now in the past. I quit on Monday. I'll let someone else get yelled at all goddamn fuckin' day.
No, I'm not completely nuts. I already have a second job lined up: On the 25th, I'm going to start school to get my CDL. The only downsides are that the class is going to be about six weeks long and is in Dallas, so I'm not going to be home for over a month. I just pray that the hotel they set me up in has WIFI.
Well... That about sums up my life so far this year. What about y'all?
Oh, and as a side-effect of the fuckwit's Hollywood performance, I missed the entire second half of Supernatural's season six. So, no spoilers please. Thank you in advance.
No, the idiot was not drunk. Just a fucktard who mistook the gas pedal for the brake. He told the cops that his "brakes failed".
*eye roll*
Yeah, and my middle name's 'Gullible'. Two of the employees of the apartment complex watched what happened and heard the moron hit the goddamn gas.
So, I was out of work for nearly a full two months because my job was work-from-home.
Notice the past-tense there? Not a mistake. More on that in a bit.
Anyway, more pics of the shit-for-brains and the mess he left behind:
Two things I want to point out about the photos above: Firstly, the window (which miraculously did NOT break) is the big window in Mom's bedroom. So, the photos below are the inside of her room (the majority of the mess is where her computer desk used to be). Secondly, the small pipe just to the right of the truck (it's less than 18 inches away) is the gas main to the building. Though I would have rather this not have happened to begin with, I am grateful that the goddamn motherfucker didn't hit the gas pipe. I have no desire to end this life as a human torch.
And here are the pictures of what the inside looked like after the truck was moved:
With those out of the way, a few more tidbits about my close-encounter-of-the-idiot-kind. It took the complex a full six weeks to fix the wall because the fucktard's insurance was/is dragging their feet. The company that now owns the complex finally gave up on hearing back from the insurance company and went ahead and fixed the wall - they are currently in the process of suing the insurance for their expenses. On Mom's and my side, we are also suing the fuckwit's insurance company - Mom was injured (not horribly so - she got hit with some debris and had a ginormous fuckin' bruise that went down to the bone and is still going away). The insurance paid the hospital visit (since Mom's got stainless hips, I didn't want to take any chances), but recall how my job was work-from-home? Yeah, I'm asking for lost wages. Mom's got nearly ten grand worth of stuff that was outright destroyed when the idiot went through the wall, and our lawyer is also pushing for 'emotional damages'. Now that they've finally got all the bills and whatnot, they expect it to take, and here I'll quote directly, "no more than a year, but not less than two months" before we can expect to see so much as a penny.
Okay, now that that shit's outta the way... I'm no longer work-from-home. Back at the end of March, I got moved on-site. And the stress began to escalate. And escalate. And fuckin' ESCALATE. First, there was the added hassle of having to commute. Then there was some bullshit about not being able to park in the parking area for the building where I worked - I had to park about half a block away (wouldn't have been a problem, except that the lot was across a very busy street where the closest intersection was over a mile away). And then, less than a month later, I got packed up and moved to a building all the fuck across town. What was a six-mile commute suddenly became a sixteen-mile commute. And since I was the ride for one of my fellow former work-from-homers, this turned into having to leave a full hour early because the goddamn twit doesn't know the meaning of 'on time'. Most days, our schedule began at 0600, which meant I had to be up at 0400 and at the carpooler's place by 0500. I literally cannot count the number of times the bint wasn't even awake when I got there, to say nothing of actually being ready to leave. And that doesn't even touch on the fact that the new site's 'dress code' would not allow us to wear t-shirts and jeans. They tried to say that I had to "get rid of" my bright pink hair, but backed down when I asked them to point out where in their precious fuckin' dress code it addressed hair color.
In any case, all that is now in the past. I quit on Monday. I'll let someone else get yelled at all goddamn fuckin' day.
No, I'm not completely nuts. I already have a second job lined up: On the 25th, I'm going to start school to get my CDL. The only downsides are that the class is going to be about six weeks long and is in Dallas, so I'm not going to be home for over a month. I just pray that the hotel they set me up in has WIFI.
Well... That about sums up my life so far this year. What about y'all?
Oh, and as a side-effect of the fuckwit's Hollywood performance, I missed the entire second half of Supernatural's season six. So, no spoilers please. Thank you in advance.