Mini-rants go in like a lion...

It’s time for a new mini-rants thread. I’ll start:

Dammit weather! I need to rake the front yard today but it’s windy. Once I rake the yard I need to get rid of the piles of pine needles, but there’s a burn ban on thanks to the effing wind! Unless you’re going to make my job easier and blow all the leaves and pine needles out of my yard, wind, you can blow on out to the ocean and give the pelicans a hard time.

What’s with the idiots lately (lately? Ok, forever, but they’re seem more plentiful lately) who do not get that evolution has no end target??

Oh my fucking bleeding eyes! Evolution isn’t a road map to “perfection”; it’s a process!

I happen to have a 30 year fixed rate conventional mortgage, and I’m current. Yet you keep calling me and inundating me with mail to entice me to refinance with a no credit check ARM? The same clusterfuck financing that has killed our economy?

Sorry, I didn’t fall off the turnip truck yesterday. And I’m aware that Obama and his [del]Communists[/del] Democrat buddies are going to buttfuck me because I stay current and pay my bills.

[del]Mr.[/del] Dr. Endocrinologist, for a person who managed to get through enough schooling to become not just a doctor, but a specialist, you sure have problems with reading comprehension. Your receptionist refused to look at the card I handed her, but you did, AND you read it, and you still think that you have the right to inform her that she may not bring her guide dog to your office OR your waiting room even AFTER reading the following:


I mean seriously, WTF?

Just for the record, my wife and I will be making other arrangements for her to see an endocrinologist, but this incident is not over for you.

When you use a bathroom, especially a public bathroom, wash your fucking hands, you nasty savage.

Please, for the love of God, quit saying “like”! “Hi! I’m like, Brittany, like, a 19-year-old college student with, like, a 3.8 GPA. I’m like, real smart, you know, like?” If you’ve spent any appreciable amount of time in “academia” in the last decade, you know I am not overstating things here.

The Oscars are now no more than Hollywood awarding itself for mediocrity.

Please use your* indoor voice when you are on the phone. There’s handy little buttons you can use to adjust the volume if you need them. We’re all stuffed in here like veal and the amount of noise made by just you is making me stabby.

*Probably not really you, dear reader.

Just curious. When I see the term medical facility I think of a public hospital, not a private doctor’s office. It seems to me that a specialist in private practice might have more leeway as to who he sees in his office. I don’t think he is right, I’m just curious about the legal aspects.

What the fuck are you doing that causes you to drop so much shit into the wells beneath the stove elements?

You had ruined all 4 of the original ones so I bought 4 more, at $4 apiece. The next DAY there was baked-on crud on one of them. The next weekend I pulled it out and scrubbed it as well as it could be scrubbed (alas, it did not all come out because whatever you did changed the chemical composition of the metal, it would seem). Now I go to boil a pot of water and nearly trip the smoke alarm because it’s dirty down there AGAIN!! I haven’t even seen you cooking!!

I can’t wait till you’re gone, you dirty motherfucker.

I pit…me. More specifically, my body.

I stopped feeding you inhaled-nicotine last October. Yes, my caloric intake went up some, but my activity level went up considerably, too.

In spite of my active job and exercise routine, you have seen fit to pad my waistline with an additional 25 pounds, and you show no signs of stopping.

No amount of weightlifting, no “fat-burning” setting on a treadmill/bike machine, no matter how many ab crunches I do, has made an impression on you.

I have the arms, legs, shoulders and neck of a physically fit person. Hell, I have six-pack abs starting just below my pecs…tapering to a tub of lard that refuses to do anything but grow larger and larger.

So, to my own body: get over yourself. You aren’t getting anymore nicotine. I don’t care how many calories you hang on to, and store around my waistline.

Keep it up, and you’ll be getting nothing but broccoli, carrots, and celery. Period.


Four dials in a straight line is not a good way to design the controls for a stove with four burners arranged in a square.

Dear parents of small child in the restaurant I went to yesterday:
Your child is not yet ready to be taken in public. You know how I know this? The fact that your child screamed his head off from the moment you sat down gave me a clue. It paused in it’s auditory pollution just long enough to grab a metal utensil and bang repeatedly on a dish or pot, until the utensil was taken away. At which point it redoubled it’s effort, causing the patrons of the restaurant to collectively think ‘Give that goddam spoon back to the fucking kid you asshole.’ all at the same time. Even the table full of nuns. I saw it.

You sat and calmly ate your dinner, talking to each other, while your spawn made more noise than a donkey being chainsawed. The only time you lifted a finger caused the little air raid siren to somehow make even more noise.

If I had come into the restaurant carrying a large boom box, and commenced blasting 80db of pretty much anything, I would be out on my ass in an instant. But because your boom box is alive, it’s deemed social acceptable for you to ruin my dinner with an a Capella performance of ‘Screaming like a Banshee’ by A minor. I hope the both of you are stricken with a rare form of tinnitus that causes you to hear a dozen cats fucking just on the other side of your eardrum ever time you sit down to eat.

The DA appears to agree with our interpretation. Particularlly after the doctor took kaylasmom aside and told her that he would be willing to accept her as a patient, but she would be required to always be accompanied by a sighted human being when she visited, so as to not bring the guide dog into the facility.

Half a pitting … because I’m not pissed off, just a little baffled, and I really don’t want to piss off anyone else, but …
… why do people post in game threads (Daily Feuds, to be specific) just to announce that they aren’t going to play? There are plenty of feuds that I just don’t get so I decide not to play … but I’ve never gone in and posted, “Sorry, I don’t knit, so I’m not playing this one,” mostly because I doubt anyone else gives a shit if I play or not.

Thank you! I know I don’t always see things the same way as the rest of the world, but if not for my little diagrams on my stove, I’d be lost.

I live in a city of a million people - why does it seem like, every time I drive somewhere, I live in a city of a million assholes? And why don’t they ever stay at home? Driving around at 10:30 on a Monday morning, I’m in traffic. 10:00 Saturday night - traffic. Wee hours of the morning - slightly less traffic supplemented with bored, asshole cops looking to bust people for things like rolling stops. I hate this city a little more every day.

I pit myself. I sold my house this year and now I need to do my taxes. Can I find my closing statement? No. I’m sure I put it somewhere very very safe, but where the fuck that may be, I do not know. Tonight I have to go home and tear my apartment apart (again) looking for it. If I don’t find it, tomorrow I’m off to the storage unit. Woo hoo! Dammit.

I’m sure you can tell from my reply of your offer with my story of you, your mother, an old dead goat and a broom handle that I really don’t care that you aren’t selling anything and that you are conducting a survey. That just means I dislike you with the same passion of a thousand suns that I reserve for telemarketers.

Tele-survey turds are just ever so better than a telemarketer by the width of a mite’s ass hair. They are still a few thousand light years lower than that guy who farts in the elevator and then exits at the next floor.

Stupid fungus gnats - I threw all my plants away because you were driving me out of my mind, and I still have fungus gnats in the house. Where the hell are they living, now that there is no dirt anywhere? Oh well - my silk plants are gorgeous, and I never have to water them. Now, if I can just get rid of the rest of these little flying friggers…

I must Pit my digestive system. For the last month or so, I have been plagued with gas. Not just polite, ladylike little toots - oh no! I am talking about sounds that could qualify me for an audition with any major orchestra. I have tried changing my diet. I have tried various gas relief potions. I have tried yoghurt and probiotics. I have been to the doctor, who didn’t seem to take me very seriously - and what she prescribed didn’t work at all. I am bloated and miserable.

The smell is not so bad since I pretty much cut out eating meat. The noise level is embarassing, especially since I work in a cube farm.

Intestines - cut it out! You know if I have to go to a specialist I am going to have to have a colonoscopy (sp?) and I do not wish to go through that.

It’s right next to “someplace where you won’t forget.” I use those two places to store all sorts of things.

My mom used to line the wells beneath the elements with aluminum foil. Makes clean-up much, much easier.