Get off the fucking cell phone and DRIVE. I haven’t driven in four years and I just got my first car since then, but even I drive better than your ass because I KNOW NOT TO BE ON MY CELL PHONE AND TRY TO TAKE A TIGHT TURN THAT REQUIRES TWO HANDS, NUMBNUTS!
And put your goddamn grocery carts back. Is it so much to fucking ask that you walk your lazy ass TEN WHOLE FUCKING FEET to put your cart back in the corral? I’ll get the carts from little old ladies and take them back, not for a healthy asshole like you who thinks they’re above putting the fucking cart back.
I’ve just moved from NYC back to Richmond, VA, and I forgot how much the suburbs piss me off.
ooh, that happened to me two months ago. I’d feel okay on weekends, then during the week (when I had to be active and leave the apartment), I’d get a cold. I thought it was just bad luck and a new cold every week. Turns out it was mono :mad:
But that’s not even my rant.
My rant is that the MBTA really, really needs to put in a subway that runs from Brookline to Cambridge. It’s nice that all four trains intersect in Boston at the Downtown Crossing/Government Center area, it’s nice that they have that whole thing going on that makes transfer points easy to remember, but it should not take me close to an hour to visit my friend in Cambridge who, by car, would be five minutes or so away.
(buses? Nah, not covered in my monthly pass. He’s my friend, but he ain’t worth the extra 75 cents )
A gentle reminder to all lame-o, ball-licking writers out there:
Acronyms are CAPITALIZED.
Yes, they certainly are. Did you know that? Did you ever learn that it’s NASA, not Nasa, AIDS, not Aids, MPSIMS, not Mpsims. That’s because each letter stands for a different word. You should want to write a story about the FBI, not the Fbi, you ass-licking dicklickers.
Mee-shell, my bell,
Someday monkey play piano song…
Do you know how many trees die because they deliver a paper to the whole friggin’ city every Wednesday & Sunday? I don’t want you to throw a paper in my yard every Wednesday & Sunday! If I wanted the damn paper, I’d subscribe to it, for cry pete!
As far as I’m concerned, you’re throwing trash on my property, and I want it to stop! I don’t want to pick up your trash out of my yard, you tree-killing yard-litterers!
Actually… the FBI and MPSIMS are not acronyms. They’re initialisms. NASA and AIDS are acronyms because they are pronounced as words (nassa, not en-ay-ess-ay). And there are a number of acronyms that are lowercased (scuba, radar, laser, and usually yaoi).
I know you’re teenagers and good kids and don’t get into trouble or do dangerous stuff, but if you won’t be home by 7 CALL ME!!! Especially if you don’t want me calling all your friends in a panic and embarressing you. I worry.
Okay, so you’ve invented some marvelous little plastic device that, in your opinion, makes it easier to perform an everyday task. Let’s call it Mike’s Amazing Shoelace-o-Matic. You want to sell millions and millions of units of Mike’s Amazing Shoelace-o-Matic and become rich in the process, so you decide to film a commercial and run it on late night tv.
Fair enough. I have no problem with this, so far.
Why, though, do you feel the need to ignore the fact that damned near everybody on the continent successfully ties their shoelaces every single day? Why must you subject me to the sight of a woman tugging, crossing, folding and eventually snapping a shoelace and throwing her arms into the air in utter despair at the difficulty of the task? Have you just given up and admitted to yourself that nobody’s going to buy the damned thing if they ARE smart enough to tie their own shoes? Are you after that small but critical segment of the population that didn’t quite manage to make it through this class in elementary school? Even with my low opinion of humanity in general I’m not convinced that there are that many people out there who are as stupid as your demonstrator appears to be. If there are, where the hell did they get $25.95 to spend on your product anyway?
Get the hell off my television and make room for a local appliance dealer who is promoting taking advantage of his supposed mental illness.
Jorge Bush can suck my asshole because I know that he is really an elite that has no idea what the common everyday person has to deal with as far as the Invasion is concerned. The only thing I like about him is his taste in women because Laura is a pretty hot middle aged mama who knows how to keep her mouth shut unlike Hillary that socialist greedy grasping power hungry Bitch. Yes, I would do Laura Bush. And Laura also produces good looking offspring like Barbra and Jenna unlike that ugly ass bitch Chelsea whom I suspect is the bastard child of Webb Hubbell and the Ice Queen Hillary.
Probably not, but I’d bet he sure as hell wasn’t coughing!
My minute-rant:
Why, oh why, do we have to do our clinic on Friday afternoon when we’re on Night Float? In other words, we work four straight nights from 10:00 PM-1:00 PM (yep, fifteen hours), during which we are not expected to sleep. Then on that fourth day, instead of going home at 1:00 PM, we get to see our clinic patients until 5:00 PM! Joy! I mean, I don’t mind, as long as my patients don’t expect quality, compassionate care or anything like that. We could turn our patients over and have our clinic in the morning, when we’re only half comatose instead of 90%, but that would make too much fucking sense, huh?
(I know, a medical intern bitching about the long hours is like an Eskimo complaining about how damn cold it is. That’s why it’s only a minute-rant instead of its own thread.)
Idiot Guitar-Playing Boy next door, what could you possibly be doing that is causing my (metal) shower surround to reverberate like a sounding board or a pair of speakers or I dunno, something REALLY FUCKING LOUD and startling at midnight! Whatever it is, stop it! Moron.
Oh, and Landlord, why the hell is my shower surround metal?
If you come in to see the movie 45 minutes late, I’m not going to let you buy a ticket. Nope, not gonna happen. Especially when it’s the last show and I’ve closed everything down (I’d be willing to make an exception for a particularly sorry case for an earlier show). Threatening me will do no good, as I am the last line of defense here. My boss, whom you can’t reach until Monday, would be annoyed that I even entertained you for this long. I’m sorry you went to the wrong theater first and I bet your friends are wondering where you are, but I’m well within my authority to refuse your admission, and if you don’t get the hell out of my theater I’m calling the cops.
Mom, Dad, leave me alone. No really, leave me alone. No, that means don’t call, don’t email, don’t write, don’t send a pigeon, just leave me alone. I don’t want to hear about how miserable you are since the divorce, Mom. And Dad, I don’t want to hear about what a stupid cunt mom is and how happy you are since you left.
I’m serious.
Dad, I’ve told Mom to get a restraining order and a lawyer so she doesn’t have to talk to you anymore.
Mom, next time you start, I’m hanging up.
Leave me alone.
Please.
I have my own problems, my own life, my own family, school, and I don’t need your shit. I’m not your friend or your therapist.
I don’t even like you guys much right now.
Plese, leave me alone.
I just received a check for my recently deceased husband’s life insurance. The premium is paid through my company. How the hell can I have $53.74 deducted for LATE premium payments!!! They will hear from me on Monday. Somebody owes me $53.74.
Damn you, jalapenos. I know, “in fire, out fire,” but couldn’t you be consistent? It’s only every three times I eat you that I endure this horrible. . . you know.
Damn the new 14" Powerbook for putting lust in my heart.
The chives I was trying to grow all died, damnit!
And the guy on a half full airplane who comes over and sits next to me so he can discuss… not current events… not the book he saw me carry on to the plane… but the book in which I happen to have my nose deeply buried! The book I return to after my every non-committal reply to your every comment (RAH The Moon is a Harsh Mistress, in this case). “Stewardess? Would you please ask this man to leave the plane?”
Drivers who wait until the last minute to move out of the way of emergency vehicles, then leap out immediately after the emergency vehicle has passed, so not to lose their place in traffic.
People who have “awkward moments of silence” and fill them with inane chatter. I don’t have awkward moments of silence. If I’m not saying anything at the moment it’s for one of two reasons: (1) I don’t have anything I feel is worth saying, or (2) I don’t think you will understand what I’m thinking.
True story: A band from Poland was visiting our city. When asked where they were staying, one of the band members said “Yumca”. He was asked to spell it, and he replied Y-M-C-A. Actually, it’s probably an urban legend that I have convinced myself really happened, but it’s funny anyway.
My rant is for those cheapskates(read: thieves) who, when they get a to-go meal in our cafe, ask for a cup for water. Then, when they go over to the self-serve pop/water/tea area, look over their shoulder and check if we are looking, so they can get pop or tea instead of water.
)