What a minute. He’s giving out your emeil addres to “business associates”, he’s trolling for sex partners with it, and now he’s christing with it? That’s pretty bad.
Call his boss.
I had an upstairs neighbour once who physically tapped into my phone lines to create an unauthorised extension, then ran his shady “car import/export” business on it while I was at work. I started to get phone calls from South America. I found 400 dollars worth of calls to Germany on my bill one month. It was then that I got the phone police involved.
Shortly hereafter, he skipped the country, stiffing the landlord for six months’ rent. I heard later that they picked him up in Germany for speeding on the autobahn.
The name Estelle aside, Estelle Getty has nothing to do with the case. Except the shared name makes her think of the actress. Doesn’t help that Gamble and Getty both start with Gs.
Think of it as a guy named, oh, Wienerschnitzel Estelle suing Gamble (who is not Proctor &).
Someone bought me a folding knife as a gift like 3 years ago. I am STILL getting Cheaper Than Dirt and other bizarre paramilitary catalogs in the mail. Weird, weird catalogs featuring hot chicks wielding a pair of combat shotguns, double crossbows, and Klingon swords. Who buys this crap?
(Am I the only person who says that? I probably got it from my dad, who’d get yelled at for saying “fucking” in front of us kids, and for some reason replaced it with “christing.”)
I’m sorry this is wrong. Squirels are rats who can afford to buy fur coats for their tails. Probably due to some obscure federal farm subsidy. Fight the machine!
I don’t approve of public buses or the people that use them. They represent instant, mobile poverty and they are a disgusting display of the governments control over the most basic things in certain people’s lives. People’s lives revolve around getting from one place to another and that shouldn’t be at the mercy of some plan that a bureaucrat draws up.
I have had friends, coworkers, and employees that fessed up to regularly taking a bus and I will never have the same respect for them. My daughter will soon be taking the only acceptable public bus, the school bus, to kindergarten in a few weeks and I would expect people to eventually grow out of that mentality yet some never make it past what my five year can do. Private bus lines and charter buses are A-Ok but, otherwise, people need to learn how to manage car ownership, learn the joys of riding a bike, or get off their fat ass and start walking like people did for, oh, infinity years before those monstrosities made out of pure urban blight appeared on the scene.
I can’t remember the word “malnourished”. I always say “malnutrated” instead and it makes me nuts.
I love, love, love Buffalo wings, but I’m always conflicted about eating them because the little chicken string fibers get REALLY stuck between my teeth and even floss won’t take the worst of it out because it breaks because my teeth are really close together. I have little corn kernel teeth. Also, the damn hot sauce gets in my damn hangnails and hurts! And, I can neither stop biting my fingernails nor eating wings without hot sauce because nail-biting is for me an unbreakable habit and what are wings without atomic hot sauce?
My friends have gotten it into their heads that I’m a spook. Really. I used to joke with them about it, because it’s a ridiculous conceit; but they now really seem to think this. I have stopped joking. Of course, the more I protest, the more they believe. I have one particularly leftist friend who has already stopped hanging out with me. He’s like my best friend! I’m afraid that soon I’ll have no friends, or at least no friends who will confide in me. This is a silly problem that reads like a bad TV series. Hopefully they’re all just messing with me.
Also, I think my boyfriend’s vacation house is haunted. I went as far as to write to the community association and ask for a history of the property before the house was built, thinking, you know, “ancient Indian burial ground”, but no such luck. But that house is creepy and I don’t like staying there. What a waste.
Yeah how dare those mofos not be rich enough to drive benzes, and that gestapo government holding GUNS to people’s heads forcing them to use them.
Yea same with the roads and sidewalks. Fucking bureaucracy. People need to man up and get a grappling hook and spider man it to work.
fucking bastards the lot of em. Preach it brotha! The DEVIL takes the public bus you know. THE DEVIL they support the devil! would you want to associate with devil worshipers?
Yea the same with reading. People have the nerve to go to public libraries and READ like some kind elementary kid or something. Immature fools.
Yea cause I mean in this slow paced modern life who doesn’t have a spare 4 hours every day to go walking?
I’m guessing I’ve just been wooshed if so apologies.
The fucking suburbs never fail to slap me over the head with everything wrong with our way of life. I grudgingly go out there to visit my SO’s parents with her, and I can’t even make the basic drive in and out without ridiculous displays of ostentatious living and conspicuous consumption, crass NIMBYism, hideous big box tumors and unchecked sprawl, horrible teardowns and McMansions in previously-quaint neighborhoods, no public transportation, rampant obesity, chains chains chains chains chains chains chains, and the general attitude that everyone wants to have their petty little shred of the pie and doesn’t want to share anything - space, capital, time, society - with anyone else.
You know that one trash can in the Men’s Room? The big Rubbermaid can with the lid that has the swinging door on it, with the little spring that causes it to swing back into place? Could whoever is using that thing to dispose of your loathsome soggy used paper towels, and yet somehow can’t seem to manage to exert enough strength to push the damn thing ALL THE WAY into the trash can, so that the paper towel is trapped dangling limply half-in and half-out for the next person to deal with… could you get some bionic wrist replacements or something, or a trained service monkey to help deal with your handicap? Or just let me know who you are so I can beat you with a pipe wrench until you die? What the HELL is your PROBLEM? THE TOWEL GOES IN ALL THE WAY! ALL THE GODDAMN WAY!!! JUST PUSH THE TOWEL IN ALL THE GODDAMN WAY!!!
I’m assuming this is a “loony rant” in the sense that anyone who believes this is loony? As in, it’s a joke?
Because–when I moved to my current city, I had no car and no bike, and I really couldn’t afford either. I actually did walk to job interviews 3 miles or less from my apartment, but that’s because it was winter and it was actually bearable. Some of my interviews were 15 miles from my place and I had no choice but to take the bus. And in summer, in formal interview wear? Don’t make me laugh. I’m hardly going to slog four miles in a suit in 100+ degree heat.
Of course, if you were joking, then I certainly apologize.
Doubled and redoubled - if tis a woosh, then I guess I get it, but if not - the bus is one of the only means of transport for me (and millions of others) every day.
Cars - fuggedaboutit. Nowhere to park, traffic is horrible, costs £8 per day just to drive in the city not including parking which is £20-25 per day.
Tube - in the winter, it’s fine, although crowded and dreary. In the summer (such that we’re having, which is to say not very much), it’s a nightmare of heat, congestion, crowding, and horrible smells.
Bus - clean, above-ground, and crowded during rush hour but at least I can often get a seat for my ride into town.
And, lo, after these many years, I finally get the answer to my question from a major Animals fan.
There never was an authentic stereo recording of the early Animals songs. The later Animals, in their psychedelic phase, yes. But not during their early blues phase.
The “stereo” record I had when I was a kid was most likely “rechanneled” stereo, i.e. mono recordings that had been tampered with to produce a kind of fake stereo sound. So Polydor was actually being faithful to the original recordings when they released the tape as mono. Good on ya, Polydor!
So after twenty years, I finally have that pebble out of my shoe.
Speak into the phone! Don’t mumble, don’t hold your hand over the mouthpiece because when you do that I can’t fucking hear you. Speak, in a normal and clear tone of voice. This goddamned mumbling you do is driving me and everyone else we know batshit crazy.
When you’re in the ladies room at the swankiest hotel in town where they have stacks of actual cloth towels on which to dry your overprivileged fingers after you wash up, it doesn’t take but a moment to glance around you and see the huge hamper filled with other similar hand towels and figure out where to put your used hand towel. Not in the tiny little wastepaper basket which is clearly for kleenex. Not in the sink you lazy bitch. Certainly not on top of the stack of clean towels you inconsiderate trollop. Put the towel in the hamper. How fucking hard is that anyway?
Oh, three page case note, how I shall miss you. You were a work of glory, clearly defining the problems of the case and what steps I would take to remedy the situation. You had references to info hard gleaned from other agencies. You had phone number of very important people to know. You were wonderful.
AND SINCE OUR SYSTEM GOES INFO ONLY/NO IMPUT AT NOON IT’S GONE.
I’m going to sik my girlfriend’s chihuahuas on the mailman. She’s off in Spain, and I’m walking the two little beasties this morning with the leashes in one hand and a glass of lemonade in the other. The freakin’ mailman takes the stack of crap out of the box he just delivered and insists I take it! Leave it in the box, ya’ fucking moron. When the good people at Penny Saver and the local Ford dealership popped for the “Dear Occupant” postage they didn’t buy me a third arm!
I’m gonna send those two little dogs after you, Mr. Mailguy. That’s a net total of nine pounds of furry Mexican Fury. Watch your back, and your shoe laces, because Hot Sauce and Sausage* are coming for you.
*That’s just what I call 'em. Their real names are Tabasco and Taragona
