Ah, here’s the place for this - Mother Nature, you suck. You suck big fat, hairy, dangly donkey balls. May is SPRING!!! Spring means no more snow. Got it?
Fuck!
To the person who double-parked on the busy 2 lane street during rush hour, blocking traffic and forcing people to drive around you and into oncoming traffic:
yes, that was me screaming ‘fuck you!’ at the top of my lungs and getting red in the face like I was having a stroke. There was a goddammed parking space 10 feet down the street! I don’t care if you’re the goddam queen of england, there is no earthly reason to do that. you are not special, you are not good, you are pure evil and i hope a 10 ton block of concrete squashes your stupid double-parking-gas-guzzling-spare-tire-on-the-back-because-you’re-so-cool vehicle flat!!! :mad: (with steam coming out of ears)
To one of the girls in our theatre department: GET OVER YOURSELF! The world does not revolve around you. Stop being such a fucking drama queen. The other girl was never trying to steal your then-boyfriend, and she’s not trying to steal him now. Besides, even if she was, IT WOULD NOT BE STEALING HIM. HE IS YOUR EX. HE IS NOT YOUR PROPERTY. I don’t want to hear ever other fucking day about how that other girl did this, or how she did that, or how she wore this, or how she said that. I DON’T FUCKING CARE!
There, I feel better now. Mini-rants are fun.
One more.
Honey, how come I watch every single fucking rerun episode of “What’s My Line?”, “Dallas”, “Ryan’s Hope”, “Match Game”, and “Beat the Clock” with you, but you can’t sit in the living room with me for ONE HOUR on Wednesday nights and watch “Angel” with me? Is that rerun episode of the “Match Game” THAT important? There are only two episodes left of the whole damn show, you could at least watch them with me instead of yelling from the bedroom every five minutes “Is Buffy back yet?”. Just come out here and WATCH the goddamn show with me for an hour!
Ava
Darling husband, you are my light and my joy. But if you don’t stop eating your food like a starving Marine with only 5 minutes of chow time between covert operational thingummies, I’m going to start serving your meals to you in a trough. For fuck’s sake, is my cooking so bad that you don’t want to taste it before you swallow it?
Grr.
FaerieBeth: A nice, big, boiling pot of water kills crayfish pretty well. Especially when combined with corn-on-the-cob, potatoes, and a good quality crab boil. Be sure to boil 'em outside, though, because crab boil in an enclosed space is almost like tear gas. Not even opening a window helps.
Don’t like the taste of crayfish? Invite your neighbors. Heck, they might even help dig 'em up.
Gahhh ! froth. growl. snarl.
So despite my earlier assertions to the contrary, I’m temping again. Today’s task is to make a budget estimating how much it will cost to furnish the office that this company will move into next month. Simple, huh?
Right, except that
(a) although I know we have an account at the office supply place, I don’t have the account information, because the person I’m replacing didn’t leave it for me, and I don’t know who to call because everyone is on vacation
(b) you can see products on its website, but not prices, without the account information
© the only catalog in the office is four years old, not helpful for pricing or product availablity
So I called the customer service number yesterday to ask for some help, the CSR very kindly offered to send me a catalog.
So today I get a suspiciously small package from the company, with
1 EA ENGLISH EAST (DRILLED) OFFICE
on the invoice, and a single package of post-it notes inside.
So I called the customer service number (a different one from yesterday) and was told, of course, that
(a) they don’t send catalogues without account information, and
(b) the prices are on the website.
Which they are not.
What I was not told is why the nice man yesterday said he’d sent me one, or why I got post-it notes instead, or what the heck an English East (Drilled) Office might be. Oh well. At least whatever it is only costs $.00 Net Unit Price.
So the poor woman on the end of the phone had to deal with Angry Me, unfortunately for her. But she did allow herself to be convinced to send me a new catalog (‘why should this be so difficult?’ I asked her - she couldn’t respond.)
Fuck temping.
To the two people who nearly hit me in the crosswalk at 13th and Grant yesterday:
Person 1, you are an idiot. You do not speed up to turn left into a crosswalk when there is someone already in said crosswalk. You nearly hit me. Asshole.
Person 2, you are a complete fuckwad. Not only did you drive right behind person 1, you were on a cell phone and driving with one hand, it was pouring down rain, and you DIDN’T EVEN BOTHER TO LOOK AT ME OR SLOW DOWN when you literally came within one foot of ramming into me. This is a crosswalk. I have the right of way. You nearly killed me.
I have been waiting to cross the street near this crosswalk, and I have seen a man be thrown 10 feet by a car who didn’t bother to slow down when he turned left into the crosswalk. NO. YOU DO NOT GET TO SPEED UP AND DRIVE RIGHT THROUGH. THIS IS A CROSSWALK AND PEDESTRIANS HAVE THE RIGHT OF WAY, YOU FUCKNUGGETS!
To the bitch on I-79 just south of Pittsburgh who hit my car on Saturday night:
When you are in the right lane, and you wish to get in the middle lane, check to see if there is a god damned car in the middle fucking lane before you just swing the wheel and move over.
It’s not as if you would have even had to turn your head to see my car, as you were far enough behind me to hit my rear quarter panel with the front corner of your car. And if this was intentional, as fun as those police spinouts may seem on TV, I am not a fucking stunt driver and I don’t appreciate you trying to make me be one.
So, you stupid cow, you hit my car, and then to make matters even better you took the fuck off down the highway and didn’t even pull over. Now you swear that you didn’t know you’d hit anything. How the hell do you not notice that you ran smack ass into a 2,000 lb hunk of steel? Oh, and this is what you did to my car, you daft cunt. I’m thinking causing damage that big to someone else’s car while traveling at 65 mph is something you would notice were you not very likely drunk.
sigh.
A less-than-polite memo to my body:
Body, fuck you. In the past 4 years, I’ve done just about everything I could think of to lose weight. I dieted. I exercised. I drank gallons of water and took bottles of every “OMG, you can’t live without this supplement!!” vitamin, just on the off chance it might help. I tried low carb, low fat, straight calorie restriction, mini-meals. You name it, we’ve been throught it, you and me.
So, for the past 6 weeks, I’ve dedicated myself once again to this effort. Since my breast reduction surgery (which so thoughtfully relieved you of over 7 lbs), I even took up running. I spend 1-1.5 hours a day at the gym at least 6 days a week. I run. I climb stairs. I ride the bike. I run on the elliptical trainer. I’ve mixed up my workouts so that you don’t get too used to doing one thing. I wear my heart rate monitor so I know that I’m working out at an appropriate effort. I’ve watched what I’m eating and thought I was feeding you appropriately so that I wouldn’t get into a starvation mode catch-22.
Tell me…why oh why have you only released 2 fucking pounds in the last SIX FUCKING WEEKS? Why? Please, I need to know. Because at this rate, it’s going to take me approximately (does some quick math) 5 more years to lose this weight.
Body, you fucking suck.
Oh…and while I’m at it, a hearty fuck you to everyone who’s ever uttered any phrase resembling “I don’t know why people have such a hard time losing weight…all you have to do is eat less and exercise more.” Really. Fuck you. And you. And you too.
I know this has been done several times before (it is actually being done in IMHO at the very moment), but I just wanted to state it once again: I HATE CLOWNS, jesters, tricksters, solo entertainers… all of them. I fucking hate them. They scare me. They give me the creeps. Potential child molesters, ready to raise a stink at any given time. How could anybody ever think getting a clown for a toddler birthday party was a good idea?
:mad:
Jesus. Next time I am going to knock the guy over.
Dear Pollen,
I understand that you are necessary for the reproduction of all the trees and flowers I love so dearly. But must you be so damn allergenic? And must you, further, be strong enough to overpower every medication I attempt to use to thwart you?
Stop it! Stop making my eyes water and stop making my sinuses back up and for Christ’s sake, that’s quite enough with the headaches! Go the fuck away! Gaaaah!
Ahem.
That was rather cathartic.
So many.
–To my jaw. Stop popping out of place. It hurts and it’s uncomfortable and I don’t like it.
–Dear Toes. What do you want me to do? Remove the nails completely? Huh? Is that what you want? Well fuck you too. I like my toenails, goddamnit, and I refused to admit defeat. I don’t care how infected or ingrown you get…well, you know, until September, when I might be able to afford having them removied.
–Dear English Department,
You suck so hard that the whole department sounds like it’s full off vacuums. Why do you make classes required and then never off them? Seriously, the last time Intro to Language was offered was the year before I entered as a freshman. I know this is true because I fucking checked. All the English students in my graduating class are screwed, but I’m particularly screwed. Why won’t you help me meet my requirements? Why don’t you care? I came to this school specifically because I didn’t want to be another nameless, faceless student. Every professor in the department knows me. They’ve all given me As. They’ve chatted with me. We’re friendly. Why won’t you help me make this right? You do realize I’m in this situation through no fault of my own right?
I need 4 classes to graduate. 2 of the classes have direct scheduling conflicts. Nobody will change the schedule. Nobody will teach a directed study course. Nobody will offer me an alternative.
WHy? I don’t understand.
Do you want me to beg to let me graduate on time? Because I’ll do it. But until then, fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you.
To whom it may concern:
Please, make time go again please? Today has been at least a week long. At LEAST. I know I only work a 7 hr shift, but I do it 6 days a week. (Well, 5 on Saturday to make a 40 hr week.) This 12pm-7pm shift? It’s ENDLESS. Why did 8am-3pm seem so much shorter?
This time yesterday, it was tomorrow.
Can you make time go again please? I really wanna go home now.
Thanks,
Rasa
I was all pissed and ready to give this it’s own thread but then I decided to stick it in here.
Detroit area radio stations (mainly the two we listen to regularly). Your traffic reports suck. How could you fail to mention for the whole hour it took my wife and I to get home that there was a semi with it’s trailer on fire blocking one lane of the freeway. The truck was on fucking FIRE! We sat in traffic until we actually saw the smoke and got off the freeway but even then we heard nothing (on two seperate traffic reports) about this truck.
You never mention this stretch of freeway. It can be busy or full of accidents but it never gets even a passing remark. Fuck your traffic reports, they suck.
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Damn it, I don’t want to mow the lawn. Stop growing, stupid grass.
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Damn it, I don’t want to take out the trash (to include gathering all the recycling, etc.) Stop… uh, using things, people!
Coming home from college sucks when your parents then go away and leave you with actual responsibilities, at least when you’re not the partying type who would take proper advantage of having the whole house to yourself.
Damn it.
Memo To The Bugs And Assorted Critters In My Yard
Look you damn fools, there is a pool in my backyard. If you crawl, skiddle, sidewander, slither, ooze, or what ever the hell you do towards it, you WILL FALL IN! Yes you will! Then I have to get the big long pole and the net and fish your dead carcass out and toss you over the fence. Look, I know it’s water. I know you need water. However, and listen closely, it is chlorinated water! It is water with chemicals to kill nasty bacteria and stuff because it’s made to swim in. OK, in my case it’s made to sit on my big old chair float and float around and drink beer in but it’s still full of damn chlorine! If you get in it, you will die. Die! Die! Do you understand? YOU WILL DIE!!! Ok? Understand now? Gooooood! Now, stay THE HELL OUT of my pool. I am freakin’ tired of fishing you little shits out everyday.
Have a nice day.
Speaking as a veteran of eight years on Capitol Hill, I completely sympathize! The best thing they could do there is put lights on every corner, timed so they’re all red at the same time. Then maybe, just maybe, it might be safe to cross the street. At high noon wearing an orange vest.
Hey, it’s Calgary. I will consider us lucky if it doesn’t snow next month.
OK, people, it’s stand on the right, walk on the left! The escalator is not a fucking ride, and if you’ll notice the stairs beside you, you’ll see that it’s actually slower to just stand on the escalator than to walk up the stairs. Are you that goddamn exhausted that you can’t either use the escalator to get you to the top faster (Its intended purpose) or stand to the side so you don’t hold up the entire train? If you looked behind you (which would require a moment of awareness, which I realize is beyond you) you’d see the huge fucking pile up at the bottom of the escalator. It only takes one person to fuck this up for everyone. The people in front of you got it – why can’t you?