This is just a small sampling of things that I desperately need to get off my chest before I pop. Feel free to post your Mini-Rants.
I work in a pharmacy. I fill prescriptions all day long. I’ve been doing this for almost 15 years now. I am familiar with the laws of the state that I live in, as well as many other states. I have had it up to here <points to ceiling> and beyond with people trying to get their prescriptions for narcotics early. Fuck you, you stupid junkie. I am tired of you bringing your prescriptions in that are marked “Do not fill until <date which is 4 days from today>” and telling me that you need to have them filled today because you can’t get back to the pharmacy because you live X miles away. I have news for you. There are practically pharmacies on every corner between here and your house. Get the fuck over it. Your insurance card is taken at almost every pharmacy in this state. Don’t give me attitude because YOU FUCKED UP SOMEWHERE. Fuck you. (Yes, I should get out of retail, I know.)
My roommate’s company is the company that is involved in the torturing of the Iraqi people. I don’t have direct knowlege about anything that happened. I’ve heard a lot of things from him that haven’t been broadcast on the television… But when people ask me about it, all I say is that it makes me think those soldiers are just as bad as anyone else who has ever tortured an American soldier and took pictures/video of it and put it on tv. It’s my fucking opinion. Don’t tell me I’m a ‘goddamned moron’ for thinking that. Think what you want as much as you like. It doesn’t mean that I’m going to suddenly bow down to your opinion. I promise. (This rant written for one of our customers, who seems to think that he can browbeat me into thinking just like him.)
I don’t give a fuck about American Idol. Really. No, really. Seriously. Shut the fuck up about it. Oh my god, if you don’t shut up about it, I am going to kick you in the big toe. Really, really hard. There will be blood and broken toe nail involved. And maybe pointy sticks.
Why do I even HAVE an email address? (Aside from ‘so you can stay on the Dope with a valid email address’ ). The only way I can stay in touch with my family is through email and random short phone calls. Why do I even bother writing to them if they’re not going to write or call back? Why do I waste my time? Everyone in my family has a home computer. I know, because they ALL CALL ME when it’s not working properly, despite the fact that I have no formal training. Gah!
One of my bridesmaids for my impending wedding is no longer speaking to any of my friends. She is back with her old boyfriend, whose life consists of sitting on the couch every night, smoking pot, and avoiding social contact at any cost. I’ve emailed her a couple of times, but I haven’t heard from her in about two months. I am ready to just email her and say, 'I understand that your boyfriend takes up all your time. Sitting around and smoking pot every night must be tiring! I don’t want to take away from your extremely active social life, so I would understand completely if you decided that you don’t want to be a bridesmaid." I don’t care about a shower, I have almost everything planned, and I’ve asked nothing of my friends, really, except that they show up. Damn, I’m such a Bridezilla.
And last of all, I am tired of people asking me when I’m going to have a baby. I realize this is a touchy subject, so please read this before you respond. I’m the first kid in my family (I have 4 sisters and 1 brother) to get married before I have a kid. (I swear, I don’t have a problem with anyone else doing it. It’s just not what I wanted to do, so I didn’t do it.) As soon as the engagement ring was on my finger, my mom said, “Oh! Now you can get working on a grandchild!” As if she didn’t already have 15 GRANDKIDS, and 9 GREATGRANDCHILDREN. And the future mother-in-law wants grandchildren right away, too. Ya know, maybe I’m the black sheep of the family, but I’d like to wait until I’m a little more financially prepared to have a baby. You know, like full-coverage insurance, a place to live not filled with smokers, some money saved for emergencies. I know. I’m a freak because I think I can plan ahead. Maybe I just think about the future more than my family does. I don’t know. Whenever I tell them that I’d like to get some money saved up and possibly get a nicer place (instead of a bedroom rented in someone’s house) they look at me with that ‘deer caught in headlights’ stare. For god’s sake, people. I want to do things when I’M comfortable with them. I have to raise the baby, I have to pay for things, and I have to deal with the consequences, good or bad. Give me a break!
Hey there, Skerri! Are the cicadas going to be bad in your area? I’ve deluded myself into thinking they’re going to say out of my 'hood as I haven’t seen any yet. I haven’t even seen any holes in my front or back yards.
Did you and your beau know Matt (or was it Mac?) McClellen? I’m probably spelling his name wrong but he died recently and he was a stand-up comic. He used to do the MTA updates on WBAL’s news broadcasts.
There ya go, if that doesn’t distract you from your woes, nothing will.
Juanita, I’m thinking that our entire area is going to be covered by the damn things. Our backyard looks like a guy with gigantic golf shoes has been running around like mad. And yes, Ben was very good friends with Mac. In fact, Mac was working on getting Ben to go do a bunch of out-of-state shows with him, but all of that is over now. Ben was part of a tribute show at the Improv, and a bunch of Mac’s comedian friends got together to raise money for his family. All of the proceeds (which I’m hearing was in the $2K range) went to Mac’s family. Also, Robert Schimmel, whom Mac was working with the night he died, donated all the money from his cds and such that weekend to Mac’s family. I was amazed at the outpouring for his family.
You’ll have to come to a show sometime. Maybe we can get the Bawlmer Dopers out to the Comedy Factory one night for a show.
I don’t even like plain mini-rants. I prefer them frosted.
The epic battle between the crayfish and the ants being waged in my backyard is pissing me off. What kills crayfish!? Stay out of my dryer vents! My clothes will smell like a broken down bayou deck on Saturday night if you go in there!
I despise my inability to keep my vehicle uncluttered and clean. Stale fries and straw papers…text books…things I bought at Big Lots four fucking weeks ago…all still there.
The lecture I’m attending tomorrow is being presented by an old German man who’s tone and mannerisms almost match Ben Stein, and I am on antihistamines. Shit.
Bank of America: Look, you stupid fucks, I’ve had accounts with you for four years and across two states. I was trying to open an account with you in North Carolina and got a denial email because “The address you put down does not match the address we have on file…”
OF COURSE IT DOESN’T, YOU STUPID SHITS! I’M MOVING! THAT’S WHY I FILLED OUT THE “MOVING DATE” SECTION OF THE FORM!
Fuck off. There are 3 poles in a row and I didn’t know I was supposed to cross between 2 of them and that the end of the world was nigh if I crossed between the other one. I couldn’t give a shit that my husband was walking with my older child with autism and that he didn’t hear you tell him to move and that he kept on walking. If you wish to rant at him, please do so next time he crosses in the wrong place but don’t hassle me about it.
I realise I moved onto the footpath in the ‘wrong’ bit of the poles but if you were paying attention you might have noticed that was because I was chasing my younger son with autism who had dropped his lollies and was chucking a fit. Feel free to tell me off but don’t look so surprised when I tell you that my priority was chasing my kid, not being between the poles.
At no point of my family’s demonstration of our crossing impairedness were we in any danger as there were no cars waiting. We will try harder in future, but dear Lollipop Lady, your attitude could use some improvement too. I don’t like being shouted at.
Dear Little Johnny Howard. Thank you for all the money you handed out as a bribe to families in last night’s budget but I’d rather that the money was spent on health and education and the like. I personally made out like a bandit and will be thousands of dollars better off by the end of June but I’m still not voting for you. Arsehole.
Ticks. All ticks. Wood ticks, Deer ticks, any ticks. Fuck you little bastards. There is no reason for you to exist. Not even to feed insect eating animals. That’s what the fucking skeeters are for. You little fucks secretly deposit yourselves on me, totally unnoticed until you swell like a balloon and there is no way to miss your bloated sonn-to-be carcass. And almost every time it’s in the swimsuit area. Even if you don’t latch on, and there’s only one of you, for a solid week I can still feel you crawling on every square inch of my body.
Most people have something called a trash bin, into which they dump the refuse of their eating and dining experiences. I have it on good authority that you don’t have a garbage disposal unit in your kitchen. So why, oh why, do you persist in dumping your coffee grinds, veggie bits, cooking grease, etc. into your kitchen drain??? This crap does a stellar job of clogging both our pipes, but there’s the added bonus (when I forget to close off my tub drain via the standpipe) of me finding your kitchen garbage backed up into my tub. Even better, my tub has an acrylic finish so I can’t scrub anywhere near as much as I want to after finding your chicken grease on the bottom. Ugh.
In my experience, it is actually pretty relaxing and refreshing and should not stand in the way of an active social life. Perhaps your bridesmaid’s boyfriend is just a putz. Perhaps they are having crazy hot sex every night. Perhaps they are really into American Idol.
I was in a situation last night where I was forced to watch American Idol for about fifteen minutes. I would have rather dipped my balls in icewater. Jesus, haven’t these people ever heard of Star Search?
One very small mini-rant that doesn’t deserve it’s own thread, and it barely deserves a post. But since you asked…
Using the term “cow-orker” instead of “co-worker” is unbelievably fucking stupid. It isn’t clever, it isn’t witty, and it isn’t remotely funny. Most of the time when I read it I wish the person who typed it was within spitting distance of me.
Politics: Look, you fuckers. There are hundreds of thousands of websites out there, all devoted to Liberals and Conservatives screeching it at each other. Find one of those and quit doing the “OMG!!! COMMIE LIBERALS!!!” and “OMG!!! FACIST CONSERVATIVES!!!” bullshit in a fucking superhero video game. I’m sure the fucking Bush/Kery campaigns are closely monitoring the MMORPG Dork voting bloc and you’ll be getting your fucking medal for arguing about politics on the Intarweb anytime now, but please knock it off. Or, at least, find a nice private spot and have a chat. Don’t do it on Broadcast.
To the old coot campaigning for county commissioner who showed up at my front door Monday:
You got transmission fluid, oil, or some unholy substance on my driveway when you pulled up in that smoke belching, bone rattling, bought from a used carlot in hell piece of shit you drive! Guess what? I ain’t voting for you! Matter of fact, I’m thinking about warning the whole district that you leave a trail of slime everywhere you ooze and that your greatest goal in life is to appear on American Idol and perform a striptease to “Amazing Grace”! See how many votes that’ll get ya then ya old fart!
OOH! OOH! I just remembered something else to add to my rant.
Ya old coot, know what I oughta do? I think I still have that pathetic little flyer you were handing out. I oughta call you up and tell you I have some questions about your campaign. Well, actually there is one… why the hell does your flyer say you have “lifed” in my district for 30 years? I guess proofreading ain’t a plank in your political platform is it? Anyways, I oughta call ya up, get ya back over then grab you by your scrawny ass out to my driveway and make you lick it clean! Maybe that’ll teach ya not to go dribbling ungodly shit all over people’s driveways.
Dang, this is cathartic. Thanks Skerri
When I first saw this post about 30 minutes ago, I didn’t have anything to add. Now I do.
Shaving legs is a pain in the ass. I’m extrememly nearsighted. If I have my glasses off and want to clearly see the tattoo on my wrist, I have to hold it about 1 inch from my face. So, shaving is a pain in the ass. I’m not coordinated enough to do it standing up at the sink and I can’t afford contacts so I can’t see my legs in the shower. Now, I’m short but the majority of my 5’2" comes from my legs. My inseam is about 3’4" long. This means that my ankles are way out of my range of clear sight. Hell, my tits are out of my range of clear sight. But I can barely see the outline of my feet. So I’m trying to shave but I forgot about the bug bites. I have one on each leg, right next to the ankles. So what do I do? I ripped them both open with the razor. Now, not only do they itch, but they hurt like a bitch and they’re bleeding. To make this suck even more, it’s friggen hot outside and I really don’t want to wear long pants. So, I’m going to be walking around with two ripped open big bites.
Before anyone suggests it, yes - I have tried wearing my glasses in the shower. They get all foggy and I can’t see.
Skerri, I’m with you on the Bridezilla thing. I’m typically fairly calm, but these wedding moments are getting the better of me sometimes. From one of my junior bridesmaids having a serious growth spurt in the past two weeks (!) and outgrowing her dress (thank God for David’s Bridal offering to let us exchange the dress!) to my mother just simply not LISTENING (I’ve sent her my email and password to get into the online guest list several times…), I’m ready to chuck it all and go to Vegas. That was our original plan, and I wish we’d stuck with it.
Mini-rants: To the chick at work. I have a name. It is not ‘her’, it is not ‘your partner’ (referring to my co-worker), it is not ‘she’. My name is Amanda. If you don’t remember my name after being introduced to me several times, please just ask me “I’m sorry, I forgot your name.”. Don’t say to my co-worker “Well, our issue timed out as she was running another query” in an accusatory tone. Use my fucking name and if you don’t know it, fucking ASK.
To those who seek relationship advice - why ask for it if you’re just going to blow it off? I’m so tired of offering advice to someone who says “My boyfriend/husband is being an ass!” and ASKS for advice, and then getting ‘But you don’t understand, he loves me!’ in return. What the fuck? If I spend my time giving you advice, could you at least fucking consider it? And if I’m not the only one giving you said advice, perhaps there’s some truth to what we say.
To my dear cats: STOP RIPPING UP THE FUCKING CARPET! I was trying to be a good mom and be humane, and NOT get you declawed because I don’t believe in it, but we don’t own this place! If you rip up the fucking carpet, we won’t get our damn deposit back! And I swear to God, I’ll make you eat Friskies again instead of the good stuff you get now. And Emmy, darling girl? Do not jump on Mommy and Daddy at 6:30 in the morning on Saturdays. Just because the sun starts to come up does NOT mean it’s time to eat! Wait until we actually WAKE UP. You can eat your dry food.
). The only way I can stay in touch with my family is through email and random short phone calls. Why do I even bother writing to them if they’re not going to write or call back? Why do I waste my time? Everyone in my family has a home computer. I know, because they ALL CALL ME when it’s not working properly, despite the fact that I have no formal training. Gah!
