Standing Irritations



Today is the last day of work before I go on staycation next week.  I’m scheduled for two weeks off, but I may just take one.  Between the fact that I have a lot to do in Cubeville and my vacation bank may not handle the two weeks now and a week in August to move Junior out to go to college, I don’t sit here with baited breath and great anticipation about having some time off.


As I peeled myself out of bed this morning and tried to stretch out my sore back, it occurred to me that I haven’t shared a listing of those items which are quite instrumental in irritating me these days.


Perish the thought that I’ll keep it from you any further.


The mattress on our once comfortable king size bed has given up hope for ever rising to its once and former glory.  Quite often I go find Youtubes of mattress commercials and show them to my nocturnal tormentor as a bold face, unabashed threat… nay promise that it’s days of simulating the need within my spinal system for a radical laminectomy are numbered; and I’m low-balling it.


Uverse – Plain, clear, and simple, I love the product and I’ve gotten good service on the two plus years that I’ve had it.  I hate the equipment.  It should probably be reiterated here and now that the TharpSter Pit Bull loves the nutritional properties of the silver remote controls, but the most faithful of my readers already know that.  What they don’t know is that in the time I’ve had the service, I’ve had 3 gateways (the modem thingy  for the less technically inclined), 4 DVRs (5 if you count the one that got installed and went bad while the tech was still here), and two satellite receivers here in the compound for a total of two TVs.  The equipment generally sucks.  It’s usually been refurbished by what I’m guessing is a room full of monkeys and typewriters trying to create facsimile copies of the dirty jokes sonnet that Shakespeare once wrote and stored away on a hermetically sealed flash drive hidden in the Dead Sea with some other manuscripts.  At least that’s what the symptoms suggest.  I’ll be calling my friends at AT&T out this next week to explain why their satellite receiver which works off of a wireless technology isn’t doing a very good job of replaying my recordings of Bikini Barbershop (Jersey edition) with the quality I would normally expect.


Autocorrect – I am so sick and tired of sitting here with my thumbs a blazin’ over the virtual keyboard only to have to fix the unwanted correction with my finger tip of the word “GE”.  The software couldn’t comprehend the word “the” when I typed it in, so it put “GE” there instead.  Why on God’s green Earth would a word so commonly used be corrected with “GE” is beyond me.   “So stop using your iPhone to type blogs.”  I say “No”.  I like using it to bitch and gripe about it’s shortcomings.  The whole event is rich with irony.


So I sit here on my bed, typing up a blog on my phone with the TV going on in the foreground.  The TV currently features the seedier side of bikini clad hootchies from Jersey (obvious joke avoided), but it keeps pausing and jumping to other programming because of resource constraints within the DVR.


If it weren’t for the fact that I was writing for you, the worlds greatest audience, I would be pretty darn ticked off right now, on the borderline of postal.

Randy Tharp

TharpSter is a husband to one woman, a father to two kids, a master to two dogs, an occasional cubical occupant, and unable to make up his mind on an adequate theme for this website.

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