silty1

  Not the same unless you have a pet pig

  Complete and utter bullshit.   I had a scheduled operation last fall that completely removed a fucking tumour from my digestive tract.  The colonoscopy a few weeks beforehand was how it was discovered.  I was in the best of care at all times.   THEN The fucking day after I was released from hospital, I saw flashes in my right eye, like lightning bolts.  It took me more than a day to contact my opthamologist, who that morning sent me directly to an eye clinic at a different hospital north of the city where I received emergency surgery the next day, without which I would now be blind in my right eye. Actually, for the time before the surgery, I was functionally blind in that eye as I could not recognise a foot-tall number 3 during an eye exam.   So two week-long back-to-back hospital stays, one planned, one emergency, full care, no problems, completely recovered.   I have to go back every three months for the next two years for an MRI to make sure no tumours come back.   Yeah, shitty healthcare for men.

  Sounds more like the perfect comic mini-series or sitcom, with a raft of set-ups for endless conflict.  The who-the-hell-would-buy-this-heap pub purchase, the inevitable catastrophic close-ups of the damage and rot, the clashes with the tradesmen as trying to fix things only makes it worse, meanwhile the backlash of the locals as they try to adjust to being cut off their booze and left without a centre of social life, and the outsiders who set it all off giving you juuuuust enough doubt that their reaction might be half the problem.

Fix the roof, get an exterminator.  Just get the beer flowing again!  In these times of low interest rates, you can renovate on credit and pay it off with overpriced pub food and drink.    

Open the pub up again, they'll be happy as piggin' pigs in shit

Looks like this was the publisher's way to be selbstständig heute.   Not much you can do now except cancel before it doesn't renew for another fucking year.    Next time read everything before signing up.      

If your employer (that is, the one with whom you will be employed up til your leaving date) is not taking your passport (that's the thing that you need to cross borders) then why shouldn't you be allowed to leave? (Assuming you are worried you won't qualify for the money?)  I have no idea.

  And Snopes calls bullshit on it

Hamburg is a nightmare trying to get a place.  We have been frustrated these past few months trying to get an apartment for our daughter, a med student. A couple of times we were refused specifically because she was a student.    Since we are paying the full cost, why should it matter to the landlord who is living there as long as she's a good tenant? Can a landlord terminate a contract if my wife, for example, lands a place for her, but doesn't say that it is actually for our daughter, and he finds out only later?   Like that will actually happen.  The situation looks hopeless in any case.        

If these flying coffins are to be certified again the best thing to do would be to put the entire Boeing board of directors in a 737 Max 8 - with Trump along for good measure - and take it for a few take-offs and landings. 

Christchurch Mosque: White supremacist.   Tree of Life Synagogue: White supremacist.   Mother Emanuel AME Church: White supremacist.   Oak Creek Sikh Temple: White supremacist.   Overland Park Jewish Centre: White supremacist.   Islamic Centre, Quebec City: White supremacist.   Norway Massacre: He just hated Muslims

Let's not overlook how they point to the Racist-in-Chief as an inspiration, praising Trump as "a symbol of renewed white identity and common purpose."

Stop me if I've posted this before but I am counting the days until you hold your retirement party and I resist the urge to say, "So, you're retiring.  I must say, that is definitely reason to celebrate." Lady, I don't know whether your being hired here 25 fucking years ago was the outcome of some programme to give gainful employment to the mentally marginal, but holy fucking Christ on a Christmas cracker, you are the dumbest heap of wet sawdust I have ever had the misfortune to spend more than five minutes with.  Tedious, dull, completely lacking in creativity, the ability to think for yourself, to see what's important and what's not, you constantly ask me the same questions over and over, as if you'd walked in here last week instead of being the longest-serving in the department.  No, I don't know what X is, how to translate that English word in to German, or whether my home country also has Z.  You might have noticed that since they unplugged the fax machine a few years ago and upgraded your computer, there is a handy service called the FUCKING INTERNET for you to consult should you be tempted to interrupt me once again during a busy day with another of your pointless questions. I hate being fake, I hate pretending anything, so when that day comes and I have the misfortune not to have the day off and am forced to smile for photographs and hold a glass of cheap Sekt in my hand and reflect on a quarter-century of your fine service to the firm, I will have my backpack and coat safely stuffed in my locker so that when it looks like I am heading out the back door to take a piss I will take them both and slip off into the blissful night, go have a beer or two and reflect on how great it will  be not to have your stupid mug to look at for as long as it takes for me to finally pull the pin here.  And I don't give a shit how it looks.

  Nominated for most hysterical comment on the matter yet.

  I managed to convince them that the best way to teach my colleagues English - translation or otherwise - is to schedule them for English lessons.  Whew! That wasn't so difficult after all.  Everybody wins.  They get real instruction, I get off the hook.