WARNING: Mathematical content imminent!
I got a new one, not 30 minutes old. I pit my calculus professor for the following conversation:
Who gives out these PhD’s??? :rolleyes: For those of you who weren’t forced to learn this crap, I’d like to point out that I was right, and the learned professor was wrong.
WTF???
Ford? GM? Toyota?
WTF are y’all thinking?
Is it so goddamned hard to come up with an overarching industry-wide design standard and decide to put the goddamned gas tank on the same side?
Amen. That’s beautiful. I occasionally get gas for my grandmother in her stylish :rolleyes: Olds '88. And I always pull into the pump the wrong way, get out, look around, get back in, turn around, and pump the gas.
I think it’s time to send my congressman a letter.
HEAR, HEAR! May Joss Whedon be eaten by a bear and all his fanclub with him.
I pit people who come in to the university writing studio I work at one hour before their paper is due. Dude, how much do you think we’ll be able to get done before it’s time for you to go to class? Don’t answer, I’ll tell you: not much. We won’t have time to go over the whole 5-6 page paper and look over every little thing, and even if we do, you won’t have time to redo the paper before it’s time to turn it in. And trust me, if you get me as your peer tutor, I will make it a point to pick your paper apart if I know it’s due in an hour. How’s about next time you come in at least the day before it’s due? And don’t you DARE blame us for your failing grade. We send the instructors a report each time a student comes in, so they know who the slackers are.
I pit my landlord, or my radiator, or whatever the hell is wrong with my antique heating system that caused my apartment to be so fucking cold this morning. It is February in Chicago. GIVE ME MY HEAT.
A-FUCKING-MEN! I got rid of my Pontiac Sunfire almost two years ago, and got my Honda Civic. I still have to think so I don’t pull up to the gas pump on the passenger side, where my Sunfire had the gas cap. :mad:
MAybe they have… :mad:
This is one of the reasons that someday I hope to have the chance to drive my father’s '69 Buick.
You put gas in under the back license plate 
Girl–tampons do NOT go in the toilet. They go in the trash just like pads. And even if they did go in the toilet, could you at least have the courtesy to fuckin’ FLUSH?! I do not need to see that first thing in the morning (or worse, right after returning from lunch). Actually, you should flush anyways–I’m starting to wonder if you even know what the handle on the side of the toilet is for.
As for #4 in the op, I have a feeling I’m one of the ones he’s talking about…
Could you imagine the sparks that would fly in this thread if it turned out Avarie537 was your landlord?
I’m going to generalize this one:
I pit people who use a shared resource, such as a microwave, printer, copier, public toilet, et cetera, and don’t return it to its normal default state when they are finished.
For the microwave, this would be closed, reasonably clean, and with no time on the timer or weird power settings. For the printer or copier, it would be with whatever default settings it’s supposed to have (one copy, no enlarge/reduce, etc), not out of paper, and with no paper jams. For the toilet, it would be flushed, with nothing gross left on the seat, toilet paper dispenser, or (eww) stall walls, floor or ceiling.
If you are not capable of returning the device to its proper state, you should summon someone (janitor, person in charge of the copier/printer, whatever) to do so.
LEAVE IT THE WAY IT’S SUPPOSED TO BE, PEOPLE!!! Do we need an exit exam for kindergarten, now?
In all fairness to the professor, it’s possible they may have neglected to mention the it was a PhD in nutrition or women’s studies.
A lot of HK DVDs are not region coded. Mostly older catalog titles. However, many of the newly released films *are * Region 3. I’ve got about 150 HK films on DVD, and there are certainly some R-3s scattered in there. I’ve also got some Korean films put out by HK DVD companies. Most of these are R-3 also.
Heh. I didn’t notice Avarie537’s post the first time round, so that’s a funny coincidence. I’m pretty sure that my gas hasn’t been shut off, though.
I’ve actually made it a habit of leaving the microwaves in our office open when I’m finished with the. They build up a powerful amount of heat and smell with the volume of use they get, and getting a bit of an airing out every day (even for the five minutes between when I use it and when the next person uses it) seems to do them a lot of good.
Otherwise, though, I agree. I mean, really, how hard is it it wipe up the shit you spilled in the microwave? Really? Now, I mean, as opposed to three hours from now when it’s been cooked into the tray by everybody else who came along.
I don’t think that I’m in any real danger, but the situation is shitty, and getting more so. I don’t want to go into here, as I’ve already started a couple threads about it a few weeks ago, but I’m open for e-mail and IM. A good friend gave me a really good idea, and I plan to follow through on it, as soon as I can.
My third seperate rant in this thread alone! Why is the McDonald’s by campus say “open 24 hours” when they mean “DRIVE-THRU open 24 hours”? Ya see, Some of us might not want to get our cars out of the parking garage, go around the block, and then waste gas sitting in a drive-thru. Especially when McDonald’s is only about fifty yards from our dorm.
I get that it’s for safety, (not the greatest neighborhood) but then let me walk through the drive-thru. When it’s 12:15 and I’m hungry, don’t make me go to Denny’s!
People who words out of sentences, or who type one word instead or another.
This one is a long time coming, but I’ll just have to cop to the procrastination and get to the rant:
Dreyer’s Ice Cream Company! Who told you that you had the right to redefine the half-gallon? Actually, it doesn’t matter who; they were WRONG!!! You do NOT have the right to redefine the half-gallon! A half-gallon of ice cream contains sixty-four fluid ounces. NOT fifty-six! Down-sizing the half-gallon tub of ice cream was a sleazy, dirty, filthy, abominable thing to do to the ice cream eaters of the world.
You are not excused by the technicality that you are not labeling it as a half-gallon, and are instead accurately labeling it as 1.75 quarts. The half-gallon sized ice cream carton is the industry standard, and you MAY NOT eliminate it in favor of a 12.5% smaller portion; ESPECIALLY when you keep the actual carton close enough to the same physical size as the properly-sized half-gallon containers that people are likely to be fooled into picking up the smaller one. There just aren’t words bad enough to describe the enormity of this crime against humanity.
All of the other ice cream packers who have followed Dreyer’s lead in this despicable practice: hang your heads in shame. SHAME, I say! Get back to the blessed sixty-four ounce cartons THIS INSTANT, and beg forgiveness. If you have a crapload of the fifty-six ounce cartons in your warehouses that you feel the need to use up, send them to the Jonny-Cat Corporation; I sense a market niche for a travel-sized package of catbox litter, and these strike me as somehow appropriate for the purpose.
No need to get the car out.
Call for a cab.
I pit all the fucking hoons who decided to ruin the romantic evening me and my fiancee were sharing yesterday evening. We thought it would be nice to sit outside in the breeze, at a tiny little table for two. As the sun set however, we discovered that was a bad idea. Why?
Because a whole lot of bogans (Americans read: rednecks) and metalheads thought it would be nice to use the intersection 20 metres from us as a place to test out their “pimpin’” motors, “sweet” hi-fi systems and bald tires. WTF? I don’t care if you’ve just “rolled out” from the Aspley Macdonalds or the “ACT” and you want to show everyone in the world how cool you are by revving your engine and spinning your wheels when the light goes green, but we all think you’re a loser. And you know what, you own a Hyundai Excel, or some crappy blue Charade from 1987, and you look like a dick revving that motor.
It’s the last time I pick a restaurant near Bray Park, that’s for sure. It wouldn’t have been so bad if it was every 5 minutes or so, but it was every time the lights turned green on any side that allowed them to go into the street that headed toward Boganville. It’s bad enough I’ve moved northside but you don’t have to remind me every time I go out that all the young people here are wankers.