Hear, hear! Especially when it’s a guy in his twenties doing the calling!
(I don’t mind it as much if it’s an old guy…)
Why don’t you stop after typing “Okay, later”?
Dear Subway Train Driver:
Why the FUCK do you blow the horn as your train is entering the station? The lights are flashing and the headlights are on, so I can see it coming. That horn is REALLY LOUD. My ears HURT when it goes off. How would you like it if I took one of those portable air-horns you see at ballgames, put it RIGHT NEXT TO YOUR EAR, and set it off? It’s just like that. Capisce, asshole?
Featherlou, no hijack here, but I have a hearing deficit and I have to ask people to repeat themselves all the time. I always have the tv set louder than is comfortable for my hubby. It’s a drag, but sometimes, I just can’t hear.
Just a thought.
Memorial Day Rant:
I hate it when the U.S. Capitol Police closes the area around the Capitol due to “holiday security precautions”…
while at the same time the regular DC police close off several bridges and tunnels leading in & out of the city so that approximately 3.5 billion guys on Harley Davidson motorcycles can drive around in no particularly organized manner…
while the entire population of Washington DC inches its way across the 14th Street Bridge only to discover that by the time we finally get across the river, 14th Street is closed and all three lanes of traffic need to be diverted onto two single lane side streets that empty out into residential neighborhoods in southeast DC where no detour signs have been posted so people just drive around aimlessly until they discover the secret route leading back into Virginia- the OPPOSITE way they wanted to go, so they have to get back onto the 14th street bridge and try again…
while 24 cups of flavored water ice slowly turns into 24 cups of flavored ice water in the back seat of my car.
In short, I hate it when it takes 4 hours to do 15 minutes worth of grocery shopping at a grocery store that’s a 15 minute drive away.
I hate when you have one of those chat/discussion programs where one or more people insist on talking over everything that anyone else is saying. Sometimes all the participants end up talking at the same time, including the one(s) hosting the program.
Just seems that the one with the loudest voice or the largest lungs gets heard.
That’s happened to me before…but you can usually hit CTRL+Z (Undo) and it’ll come back. For future reference.
I hate when I go to look up a fact or cite for GQ and copy the URL of a page and close the window. Then I try to paste the URL into the reply box, and it isn’t there, so I have to spend another five minutes to find the URL again and be a good board citizen instead of just berating the dumbass poster for not just using google themselves…
I hate the inside driver’s-side door handle on my Ford Bronco II. It has broken for the second time in a year. I must roll down my window and reach for the outside handle to open the door. When I forget and turn off the truck, I have to re-insert the key and turn it to ‘on’ in order to roll down the window. Last time it broke, it was fifty bucks to repair. Listen, Ford Motor Company: Would it really chap your balls to make this heavily-used part out of something other than cheap-ass plastic?
P.S. “Groin beetles” is awesome.
See, I try that, and they go “Hello, hello? Are you AFK too? I want to tell you the exact time I am coming back in case you want to sit by the keyboard like a loser, waiting for my return!” I’ve actually had a friend get mad at me for “ignoring her” after her second “goodbye.” I just can’t win. 
I hate the commercial that sounds like a dog lapping up his wet stuff (milk/slop/gruel/whatever) and you turn and look and it’s some GUY, not a dog after all. Arrrrrrrrghhhhhhhhhhhhhh :eek:
I don’t even know what’s advertised, I just say Arrrrrrrrghhhhhhhhhhhhhh and leave the room.
[sub]I even hated that sound when I had dogs. [/sub]
I hate my car. I hate that the seatbelts don’t retract after fourteen years of my fat-assed grandmother keeping them extended as far as they know how to go in order to belt herself in. I hate that the tires are going flat one by one and I haven’t the money to replace them all so I just have to keep refilling them with air every time I stop for gas. I hate that the back seat windows won’t stay up, so I have to go back there and roll them all the way up once a week because they get jostled down about an inch before I notice. I hate that there is a squeaky belt somewhere in front of the shotgun seat and I can’t get at it to fix it because it’s down at the bottom of the damn engine compartment and there’s stuff above it that gets in my way. I hate that it’s so short that I can’t change the oil without putting it up on ramps, which is dangerous. I hate that Gunslinger had to go underneath it and use three different wrenches and an airgun to take the damn oil filter off and unscrew the cap to the oil pan, all while it was up on a single air-assist jack, with me holding it to steady it and hoping it didn’t fall on him (he’s skinny, but…). I hate that the air filter, fuel filter, fuel injectors and spark plugs all died at the same time. I hate that I had to drive it from Texas to New York with it getting approximately ten miles to the gallon, because of the air filter, fuel filter, fuel injectors and spark plugs all dying at the same time. I hate that the air conditioner makes an annoying little whirring noise when I turn it on. I hate that the stereo heats up when it’s on and it spits out my CDs as warm as toast. I hate that the paint looks as if it’s been out in a sandstorm. I hate that the chrome is rusted off the sides of the windows and peeling off the grille. I hate that my grandmother managed to sideswipe a fire hydrant and cave in both doors on the driver’s side. I hate that the steering wheel is permanently sticky. I hate that it’s dusty and I hate that it smells like my grandmother even after I’ve driven it for six months and I just HATE the goddamn thing.
Thank God I’m getting rid of it as soon as I find a sucker willing to give me money for it.
[hijack]
Been there and done that with an older Ford Escort GT. First time it broke, I bought it and had the dealership replace it. = $100
When it broke again 3 months later and they refused to fix it, I went to my local junkyard, and found a couple of handles off of an even older model than mine that were metal. Never had another problem after that. 
[/hijack]
But while we’re on the subject of cars… I’d like to thank my Grand Am for waiting until 4 days after my May 18th wedding before breaking down on me. But why the hell did you have to choose the day that it snowed 4 inches to leave me on the side of the road!!! :mad: Not to mention, you could’ve just fried the alternator. You really didn’t have to go to a $500 dollar extreme by demanding a new alternator, a new battery and new belts all in one day.
You just wait… One of these days I’m gonna trade your sorry ass in on a new truck and I hope your next owner rods the hell outta you.
Syl
P.S. Can vehicles be goat-felching fucktards infested with groin beeltes also? 
I just want to say that my rant was in no way directed at the hard-of-hearing; just at people I know very well can hear me if they paid attention to what I was saying. The hard-of-listening, I guess you could call them.
Speaking of door handles breaking off, I replaced three door handles on my Plymouth Horizon in the three years I had it. How does plasticized metal ever sound like a good idea for a car part that gets reefed on all the time?
I hate acquaintances that I sort of like but are just way too high strung for me to hang around lest I develop ulcers. Nice poeple but everything MUST be a crisis and they insist upon doing everything with as much stress involved as possible.
“Oh my God! I can’t believe I just missed the bus and have to wait 15 minutes-- this is the worst day EVER” (starts shaking with rage)
“Oh, just dont worry and relax about that-- it’s nothing.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, it’s not that big of a deal and you 're being a little high strung. . .”
“What do you mean, I’m ‘high strung’? I can’t even believe you said that! You think I’m high strung?” (here they start speaking more and more quickly and frenetically) “High strung? What makes you think that? how could you possibly get that idea? I’m one of the mellowest people around here! I’m the most relaxed person I know! Jeez! How on earth could you think that!? I’m so totally laid back I can’t believe that you think that!” (head explodes)
Argh! And it is PRECISELY the most frikking chihuahua-on-cocaine people I know that are most offended if you hint that they might not have the most mellow and humorous personalities, every time. I mean, not “sort of” nervous and touchy people, but the ones where it is clear to all others that using those words in that context is absolutely fucking patently ridiculous.
I have a pimple on my eyelid. There’s this hard build-up of pus and icky stuff inside, and I’d pop it if it didn’t hurt so darn much. It absolutely kills every time it brushes against the pillow.
Stupid zit on my eyelid! Get out! Out, damn spot!
Thank you for sharing. Now please excuse me while I go puke.
To my Cats.
I love you little bastards, but MUST you run a track meet outside my bedroom door at 2 am? IF I had the conciousness to get up I’d throw your happy asses out the back door!
Freekin’ Cats!
To the Idiot at the corners of Tremainsville, Jackman and Sylvania Ave.
I was in the left lane, you are in the lane to my right. This implies you are intending to go through at the light change. But you make a left. You Diddle Fuck!!! I’m almost glad the big black SUV didn’t hit you because I sure would have given my statment to the Police.Was What-the-fuck-ever you needed at that gas sration THAT Damn inmportant that you almost caused a 3 car pile up at a buzy intersection?
Glad you didn’t have a cell phone You STUPID BASTARD YOU!