How am I exasperated this morning? Let me count the ways --

*** Blogger, once more living up to their "worth every penny" motto, was down completely when I first got up today. This sucked. As the diurnal period has crept with glacial velocity by, however, I've been gratified to see more and more of blogger's sites come back online. In fact, to date, every blogsite blog that I normally like to read has come back online -- except for mine. Repeated emailed pleas, exhortations, prayers, offers of vague, ill defined favors, and horrifying death threats to the Blogger No Help Team go unacknowledged; meanwhile, everyone in the universe is updating their blogs but me, and my statcounter remains resolutely at 0 for the day. We hates this. We hates it forever.

*** Stinkin' WizKids, just to torture me and for no other reason at all, has put a Supernova icon in their Figure Gallery. But when you click on it, there is nothing there. If I had an email address for whoever is responsible, I would be bombarding that person with death threats right now. So it's good I don't, because I gather that sort of thing is illegal nowadays here in the Land of the Free and the Home of the Brave.

*** I'm not getting the shit that laid SuperFiancee low, and I sincerely thank Whatever for that. And the love o' my life is getting better, for which endless celestial gratitude is in order and, in fact, ongoing. But I do have a relatively minor but deeply annoying head cold which is playing havoc with my regular respiration right now, in that my sinuses are entirely clogged, and drippy with it, too. Gnar.

*** We're moving to new cubicles at work over the weekend, for no sane reason anyone can devise, much less explain. This means all my cubicle crap has to be packed up by the time I leave tonight, as the humpbacks are coming in tomorrow to do the barge totin' and bale liftin'. I could be one of those humpbacks (I've been offered the overtime) but the bus don't run up here on weekends, and I'm not making SuperFiancee get up early on her Saturday off to drive me someplace I don't much want to be so I can, you know, shift boxes full of cubicle crap for five hours. Toil? Manual TOIL? I'd rather wear curlers.

*** One of our most crucial systems was offline all day at work. It's finally been fixed, but that was really annoying, too.

*** Old buddy Opus is being published online, which is annoying to me, because she's a better writer than I am, and thus, by the way the world clearly works, I should be more successful at it than she is. It's a principle clearly established since time immemorial, and reinforced a thousandfold under the Bush Administration, so I want to know, where's my Hollywood movie check? No, no, never mind that. Congratulations to Opus on a job well done, and I'll just continue to direct all my professional jealousy at John Rogers and Joss Whedon, neither of which should have their current jobs, because I want them and would do them better. No, wait. Worse. I'd do them worse. And therefore, I should have them. Yeah.

*** Conversations like this:

ME: Who am I speaking with, please?
THEM: The participant.
ME: May I have your name?
THEM: Janet.
ME: May I have your full name, please?
THEM: Janet... Trisglove.
ME: Thank you. For security purposes, can you please verify the home address on the account?
THEM: Well... I don't know what one you have. We just moved.
ME: What's your current address.
THEM: I don't know. We just moved here.
ME: [somewhat desperately] Can you verify the previous address?
THEM: I don't remember it. We don't live there any more, anyway.
ME: I... okay, can you verify the daytime contact number?
THEM: I don't know which one you have. It's different now, anyway. Do you want my cell phone number?
ME: ...sure...
THEM: I don't like to give that out.
ME: But... it... you... [deep breath] How can I help you?
THEM: Well, I tried to use my card and it didn't work. And I know there's money in the account.
ME: What did you try to purchase with the card?
THEM: Well, it was at Wal-mart.
ME: What, specifically, were you trying to purchase...
THEM: I don't remember specifically. But they were, you know, things I should be able to get with the account.
ME: Do you remember how much you were trying to run on the card?
THEM: Well, no, but I know there has to be that much in the account.
ME: Have you checked the balance?
THEM: No, but there has to be that much.
ME: I see. Well... can you verify your date of birth for me?
THEM: Why do you need to know that? That isn't even in my file.
ME: Ma'am, I need to verify two pieces of information before I can release any information. That's the law.
THEM: Well I just want to know why the card didn't work.
ME: Well, ma'am, I'm only hypothesizing at this point based on our relatively brief verbal interaction, but, if I had to guess, I'd assume it's because the last time you were having sex with your brother, father, uncle, or cousin, one or both or all four or five of you mistook the card for some form of birth control device and in the ensuing activities you somehow demagnetized the card.
THEM: What?
ME: It's just a guess. I could be wrong. Although I genuinely doubt that supposition.
THEM: Lemme talk to your supervisor.

Actually, I'd be a lot less exasperated if I could actually say things like that to participants. But up until the bit about my hypothesis, that was a pretty exact transcript of many of the calls I get here.

Well, okay, I made up the name.

*** SuperFiancee, as always, is fabulous and wonderful and beautiful and amazing and splendid and terrific and a joy forever and the best thing that has ever happened to me, and that's not one of the things that's exasperating me today, except that I'm here and not with her, which is where I'd really always rather be. But go read her Flashback Friday. It's hilarious. And will amply display yet again just why I like, admire, respect, and love her so.

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