Rice milk. Rice milk is divine in tea and coffee. I don’t know how it is in cereal because it’s kinda pricey and I’m po’.
Dear Mom & Dad,
I hope you are enjoying Snowmass. As always, I am picking up your mail and arming the security system at night. Unlike always, you forgot to tell me that the windows were recently rewired and have a newfound tendency to register false break-ins, which led directly to me crawling through your bushes with a pair of cops at two in the motherfucking morning in an attempt to outflank the imagined burglars.
You are hereby sentenced to a cab ride when you get home.
Love,
Your Son
In a college dorm? Surely such a thing is not possible!
Dear Supervisor,
Stop fucking waiting until 2 minutes after I log out of the system and microwave my lunch to pile crap to do on my desk! There are 5 other people you can go to for these things and they all take lunch an hour after I do. Please stop asking me to give up my personal time to do piddly office things.
You over there. Yes, the one with the glassy eyes and the shitty homemade placard promoting the random candidate of your choice.
You’re a fucking loser. You make me want to grind my boot into your face over and over, forever. I fucking hate you. I fucking hate your snivelling, slavish devotion to whothefuckever it is your undiagnosed mental disorder tells you has all the solutions to our problems. What would you be without someone to look up to and praise, you grovelling insect? Disgusting fucking animal. I’ve got half a mind to pull this car over and beat you to death with your shitty little sign. So kindly cast your vote for your savior of choice then go home and scoop out your fucking peon eyeballs with plastic spoons. Then sit and listen to your television set and wait to hear whether the ‘leader’ you promoted, who you do not know and who does not know you, now has a chance to spend money (probably yours) promising to do shit he or she has no intention of doing. Yay.
You make me want to strap my entire fucking species to giant limestone blocks and whip them into building my immortal tomb.
If these sad sacks of self-promoting shit are the best our society can produce, we deserve to burn. And when one of these sad sacks is elected, which will happen, it will be your fucking fault, homemade placard maker, you and every other mindless twat remotely like you. I hope you burn first so I can watch.
That’s why Starbucks is popular? I had no idea; I thought people really liked that over-roasted drek.
I don’t really have a rant to contribute.
I know! I’m in shock, I tell you, shock!
I want to complain about this thread. 167 replies, and none of them are about fucking.
Fucking false advertising, that’s what it is.
Just for you, Rysto.
I’ve been at college for almost a year now and have yet to get any! Fuck!
(Of course, the fact that I’m not very interested in any may be working against me here.)
This developmental psychology class is driving me bonkers. I’ve posted about it in this thread before.
First, the classmates:
Shut the fuck up about your god damned children. Especially you, with the hoarse voice. I counted nine anecdotes about your personal life in today’s class alone. I know it’s a developmental class, and we deal with children, but jesus christ, get a job and bug the fuckers at the watercooler.
Shut the fuck up about how you’re going to ignore research and beat your kids anyway. I don’t care if you think you turned out fine–acting aggressively toward and around children makes them more aggressive. Period.
Stop spreading fucking bullshit. Gems I heard just today: “they’re thinking about banning flu shots because they give you GBS” “LSD stays in the spine for your entire life” “sperm can live in your vagina for 6 weeks. it’s true, one of my friends is a huge slut and swears she didn’t fuck this dude but like six weeks later she was pregnant” and “my mom played mozart when I was a baby and I’m way smarter than my brother”
Now, the professor:
Stop letting the dipshits distract class. I’m not here to trade anecdotes or personal opinions on if condoms should be handed out in school or how the poor radio man’s baby died.
Don’t be so patronizing. Yeah, I had a problem with the graph you pointed to that “proved” such a difference between children–the bar graph went in two different directions. You should be congratulating me on being skeptical of something that was obviously designed to mislead, not childishly asking “got a problem with this, too?” every time you scan a page from the book into powerpoint.
OK, that wasn’t really mini, but I just wanted a place to rant without having to spend three pages defending myself.
Freshman on IM, I will not do your homework for you. I already told you how to use the goddamned library catalog. Just scroll the fuck up in the window and you’ll see it. I wish I knew whose class you were in so I could tell them to shoot you on sight tomorrow. If you ask me one more stupid question I will terminate the IM session and I don’t give a shit what the head of the department says to me. I used to teach the class you’re in. I can tell slack-assedness when I see it.
ForumBot, do all the kid stories start with, “Well, I’m a single mom, so…”? My husband and I have started noticing this, especially on television. Apparently single moms feel the need to preface every word out of their mouths with that sentence.
Grossbottom, that was beautiful, man.
My pain du jour - I went to the group that I’m an assistant leader of last night, and the old leader was there. He stopped leading by just not doing anything anymore, but he felt the need to complain about how the group was being led by the people who have picked up all the tasks he dropped. I’m about thisclose to calling it quits with the group over him. I’ve told the new leader flat out that she needs to have a talk with him to clear some things up; we’ll see how that goes.
No, we’re still prenatal right now. It’s “well, when I had my baby…”
I am sick to fucking death of American politics. Superfuckingtuesday? Whatever. Obama or Hillary? Can McCain pull it off? Whothefuckever. How many more Goddamn months am I gonna be subjected to the daily barrage of drivel that is the build up to the elections for the president. The Second Coming of Christ takes less then this bullshit. SHUT THE FUCK UP ALL READY! We all know none of you assholes are really going to do anything different.
fuck.
Hey weather!
SUCK A BAG OF DICKS!!!
Eighty-five fucking dollars for two prescriptions - with insurance? Oh, fuck you all, everyone from the clerk at CVS to the pharmaceutical and insurance company execs.
I’m in one of those moods where I have officially reached my quota of minor annoyance, which means that anything and everything, including chilly feet, things taking more than .001 seconds to load on my computer, and any noise not made by me above the level of breathing makes me deeply angry.
I don’t like being this irritated, it makes my head hurt.
Dammit, I hate to sound like the dear (hah!) departed Exy, but I wish we’d move toward pluralizing Greek and Latin words as if they were English (since they technically are now anyways). The only Greek I know I’ve learned by osmosis (being a Classics major) but I know enough that the plural of anything ending in -polis is not -poli. It’s -poleis, people! I heard Alton Brown say “Metropoli” on a Good Eats rerun last night and almost blew a gasket; now the Scrabulous! add-on for Facebook claims that “NECROPOLIS is a singular word that becomes plural when you remove the S!” NO IT DOESN’T!
I know it’s stupid and nitpicky but it drives me crazy.
ETA: And yes, I know polis/poleis are standalone words in Greek.
My parents are coming to visit me in April. That’s not the ranty part - I love my parents, I get along with them, and I am looking forward to their visit. The ranty bit is that we’re having an email exchange right now in which they’re trying to guilt me into accepting my sister coming along too.
My sister and I are estranged due to years and years of incredibly shitty behavior on her part. I said “fuck it” and stopped communicating with her back in 2005 when she threw a temper tantrum during Thanksgiving dinner. (Actually, it was before dinner…she got sent to her room before she actually ate anything.) A close family friend was present, and she asked “Does Rachel hate me? It seems like every time I visit, this happens.” My parents said, “No, she’s always like this.” She was twenty-one years old at the time. My parents have spent thousands of dollars on therapy to try to get my sister to act like a non-psycho (and no, she has not been diagnosed with any actual mental illnesses) and as far as I can tell it hasn’t worked all that well.
Anyway, THANKS, mom and dad, for trying to make me come off as the jerk because I don’t want to spend time with my incredibly unpleasant sister. In fact, I strongly suspect that this entire scheme was cooked up by my mom, who is always going on about how she wishes we could get along. Hint to mom: we would get along FINE if she wasn’t a SHITHEAD who throws temper tantrums in public in her 20s! Jesus.
I feel sorry for your parents.