To all the companies that I unsubscribe to their spam…do you actually take me off the list or just reroute my name to one of the three hundred other companies that are under your large spam umbrella?
They take you off their list…and add you to the list of “clean” names they sell to other spammers. Never respond to spammers.
When I was attending a junior college in California abbreviated PCC the band had a yell at football games that still tickles me. The drum major would yell, “Give me a ‘P’!” to which the crowd would respond, “P!” “Give me a ‘C’!” The crowd hollered, “C!” Give me another ‘C’!" Yelled the drum major. “C!” screamed the crowd. “What does it spell?” yelled the drum major. And the crowd responded. “Pu Cuh Cuh!”
Guess you had to be there. 
Oh, my mini-rant…
Its not a HOT WATER heater, you syphilitic donkey raper (thank you Steven Wright for the primo insult)! If your water is hot YOU DON’T FUCKING NEED TO HEAT IT!!!
Not much of a rant, but after reading all of yours, my world is looking pretty good. 
George W. Bush! Will you fuckin’ read the United States Constitution and follow along!!!
If you don’t agree with it, Bush, then recommend it be ammended!
Don’t try and dodge around it with bullshit sneaky-ass tactics like ‘faith-based initiatives’, and denials of regime changing, and the like!!!
Be a MAN! Be an American MAN and stand up for what you believe!!!
If you’re going to defy the Constitution, then be a MAN and amend it, you absolute worm of a tool!!!
Idiot Guitar Boy-
ARE YOU EVER QUIET? Is there just one minute of your day that you do not spend:
- Playing the guitar loudly
- Playing loud video games with repetitive soundtracks and machine gun noises that make my wall shake
3)Watching TV and laughing loudly (I know, lame, but this guy’s laugh is so deep and penetrates the wall so well, it’s like living next door to Santa Claus.)
Have you never looked at the door 6 fuckin’ inches from your apartment door and thought “Gee, maybe someone else lives behind that door and I should show some common courtesy towards him/her by not being A NOISY SELF ABSORBED PIG”
My dear students,
You are all really nice people, and smart too, so I’m more perplexed than annoyed here, but…
But…why do you, despite my nice and politely worded attempts to get you to do otherwise, inSIST upon handing in homework or asking questions while we are all in the locker room getting ready for class?
1.) As it says in the syllabus, please ask questions during class time, so that all questions can be addressed to the entire class.
2.) If I answer everyone’s questions in the locker room, it will put us all behind for starting class. I don’t show up 15-20 minutes early to answer questions or log in homework, that’s what the first few minutes of class time are for, I show up to get dressed and to hook up and set out the stereo/mic/workout equipment.
3.) I’m NAKED here!!! Can we this for class when I’m clothed?
I’m sorry George W. Bush.
I didn’t mean it.
Please, John Ashcroft, don’t have me killed.
Please! I will become a Christian and oppose abortions and buy a gun.
Please, John, don’t kill me or my family.
To my shoulders: Stop fucking hurting and stop cracking and popping so much that I sound like a bowl of Rice Krispies. Quit the nerve damage thing as well guys, because it’s getting fucking old fucking fast.
To my knees: See what I said to my shoulders? Same goes for you, ya couple of fuck-wits. Only more so.
I should be able to count on you to let me run for a fucking bus - a distance of what, about twenty yards? - without fucking up so badly that I’m unable to walk for two fucking shitty days.
Oh, and right knee? You fucking give out on me one more time and I will perform DIY surgery on you - I own sharp pointy things, a fucking power drill and you can bet your life that I’m fucking stupid enough to try it.
To my back: Oh, sweet back of mine; we’ve had many happy years together, ain’t we? I love you so much.
Wait a minute, that’s not true. You’ve screwed around with me for nearly 25 fucking years and I pissing hate you. Y’know that scene in Predator, where the alien pulls a guy’s spine out? That’s what I want to do to you, ya fuckin’ bag o’shite. Stop hurting and, for your own safety, allow me to walk upright in the fucking mornings.
To my headache: You’ve been hanging around for a couple of days now. While I’ve really enjoyed having you around, I think it’s time you left. If you don’t go by the time I wake up in the morning, then I’ll be forced to smack you around with a very sharp axe. And we don’t want that to happen now, do we?
To my blood pressure: Get lower before I stab you repeatedly in your fucking face.
Nice rant,Kal.
I feel like I need to add my own here for that.
To my left wrist:Yes I realize you got broken when I was 14 and the candyass dr I went to didn’t set it right.That gives you no right to suddenly seize up on me where I can’t move my hand for hours.Do it again and you will be replaced with something less likely to seize on me.
To my hips and left knee:I realize you think I put too much pressure on you due to my weight.I am losing weight so I don’t put so much pressure on you.Please…do me a favor and stop aching so much…especially when I first wake up,am feeling the slightest bit ill or when the temp drops below 75 outside.I really hate having to pop Advil and Aleve like they are Pez,ok?
To my left ankle:Yeah I realize I’ve broken you,spindled,sprained,twisted and mutilated you.I apologize.That doesn’t give you the right to just decide to give up and fold under me whenever I decide to take a step.Do you realize how stupid the rest of us look when YOU decide to fold inwards and we all fall flat on our faces? Ok then. Stop doing it or you’ll also get replaced with a piece of cheap plastic,same as your buddy the left wrist.
Thanks.
IDBB
This is a sort of continuation of my previous minute rant.
Mk, if Pl’s right, then you’re a bigger fuckwit than I ever thought possible.
P**l, if you’re bullshitting based on gossip and things you’ve inferred, cause that’s what it sounds like, you’re an idiot, and deserve to be castrated.
Oh, and to my dim-witted student, SHOW UP ON TIME damnit!!
There, all said. I feel better now, to an extent. Honestly, sometimes its all enough to make a woman give it all up and resort to becoming a hermit.
To the owners/managers of my apartment complex, FU. What would it take to get someone with a plow on the front of their truck to hit the parking lot real quick? $30? $50? Pay him already. The idiots living around me don’t have the sense to clear snow properly and just dump it right back into the 6 inch half-hearted swath the first plow guy did while it was still snowing.
Hmmmmmmm, Bong? Isn’t there a landlord/tenant type rule that they HAVE to keep the parking lots reasonably cleared?
You may want to check into the landlord/tenant laws in your area, you may be able to “make” them plow.
(ps before I bought my own place, I had this discussion with my landlords over heat and plowing, my first spring there I discovered that they thought it was okay to turn off the heat once it was “above freezing”. After several pointed questions and complaints by me, “In other words 33 DEGREES???” they were forced to turn it back on and in the subsequent 3 years I lived there, they never turned it off in the spring again)
Good luck!!!
To my English Teacher
You bitch. You’re being so fucking unfair, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. Let me see, how did you put it? “I’m the teacher and you’re the student.” And how did this conversation even come up? Oh, that’s right. It was when I asked why my paper had been graded differently (and on totally different, harder criteria) than everyone else’s. Your excuse: “I don’t remember how I graded everyone else’s. Yours was late.” Mine was late because I wasn’t there when the assignment was assigned! I can’t exactly get an assignment one class and turn it in two minutes later! And don’t give me that crap about how you don’t remember how you graded everyone else’s. You graded them the exact same way you always do!
Look, I understand that you may not like the fact that you, the whole class, and I all know that I know more than you about most of what you teach. My god, my dog would know more than you. Your make glaring errors. And yeah, that whole “The teacher is always right” works just the opposite in your case. But really, do you really feel you have to be so petty? I mean, seriously. Yeah, I got a bad grade on that last paper. And I wouldn’t be complaining, except for the fact that you decided you had to grade it on different criteria than everyone else’s. If you had graded us all by the same criteria, I wouldn’t have a problem with it; I would just except the grade. But you didn’t. And is it really a coincidence that you went straight to your desk and started grading my paper (by this new criteria) immediately after I corrected your glaring error in front of the class? Maybe I shouldn’t have pointed this out to the class, but really, your dislike of me recognizing your mistakes should not affect my grades. Bitch.
Your class is what makes me hate B days (we have A and B days, with 4 different classes on each day). I start the day out cheerfully, have fun in Spanish class…and then, by the time I reach the class after yours (which is one of my favorites, btw), I’m in a terrible mood.
An added note to all of you who read this and think, "Oh, here's just another whiney teenager bitching about a bad grade," I would like to say that I normally would accept a bad grade and just deal with it. It just really bothers me that my paper was graded on different criteria simply because the teacher doesn't like me.
Alright, I guess that was more than just a minute rant, but whatever.This isn’t a rant, more of a whine.
Running up and down a great big fucking subdivision isn’t a ‘piece of piss.’ It’s hot and I’m tired. You’re sitting behing that fucking theodolite telling me to ‘go left a bit’ WTF!?. I still, still haven’t figured out how much a bit is, because it has so far varyied from 7 m to 200 mm. Fuck you.
And stop calling university kindy. It’s not fucking funny. I work hard there. The fact that I don’t run around for a living doesn’t magically make you more ‘real’ than me, or whatever the fuck you keep implying. And yes, you can bet your ass that I am quiting as soon as I can, and yes, I will be back to working in retail. Fuck you, you boring little man.
This isn’t a rant, more of a whine.
Running up and down a great big fucking subdivision isn’t a ‘piece of piss.’ It’s hot and I’m tired. You’re sitting behing that fucking theodolite telling me to ‘go left a bit’ WTF!?. I still, still haven’t figured out how much a bit is, because it has so far varyied from 7 m to 200 mm. Fuck you.
And stop calling university kindy. It’s not fucking funny. I work hard there. The fact that I don’t run around for a living doesn’t magically make you more ‘real’ than me, or whatever the fuck you keep implying. And yes, you can bet your ass that I am quiting as soon as I can, and yes, I will be back to working in retail. Fuck you, you boring little man.
actually what really pisses me off is when some idiot double-posts…
In his defense, have you heard Counting Crow’s live version?? I was watching Top of The Pops on BBC-America yesterday, which is probably his only exposure to the song(being that he’s young and from the UK), and the singer may have meant to say “paved” but it sounded like exactly like “paid.” And I know the words! If hearing that was my only exposure to the song I’d think the word was paid too. Enunciate!!
Anyway, my new rant:
Don’t touch my hair. I will politely tolerate embarrassing complements from complete strangers because I was taught to, but don’t touch me! I will finch, and it’s involuntary. Keep your hands to yourself and we’ll both avoid feeling bad, ok? I don’t understand why you would think it’s ok to touch someone you don’t know, but it’s not ok. I hope I never run into you if I ever get pregnant…:rolleyes:
Oh dear God, no! Please don’t finch! Think of the children, won’t you?
Gosh, if I had a dollar for every time a woman said that to me…
Dear Stupid HR Manager,
How in the hell did you possibly get that job? I’ve sent you my CV via email three times. Three. I used the link provided on your company website. I bothered to write an informative and polite cover letter. No response. After the second follow up email (with attached CV in Word and text format), I called and left a message with your secretary. You were out of the office for the week. Fair enough, family emergency or something.
Right, so you call me back and tell me you’ve never gotten my CV and to send it again. So, I send it again, the THIRD time and also forward you copies of the previous two attempts.
I get an automated response thanking me and telling me you’re out of the office for another week. I call you back again, and you say you’ve still never gotten the email. I confirm the email address, and yet, you’ve still not gotten it.
Oh, and guess what? Now the job search has been closed and you’re no longer taking CV’s.
If I didn’t already have a job, I’d write to your supervisor and forward him all your lame-ass responses.
You suck and I bet you make twice my salary for doing a shitty job.