I recently started a new job as a, lets not beat about the bush, car park attendant (yeah it sucks, but it’s better than nothing). No matter how big the sign, people still keep parking in the loading bay. Some even park right in front of the loading bay doors. Even if there are three cars already there, all with tickets, some bastard will still park in the last remaining spot.
There are plenty of other car parks around. Yes, you will have to pay to stay in them but surely £1 an hour is better than a £65 ticket?
I just want to read the paper and listen to the radio. Stop making me work! Fuckers.
Yeah, but you get to ticket the entitled wankers who are being entitled wankers - that’s the dream, man! You’re dishing out consequences to people who desperately need them!
Fuck my mother! My daughter drove a day and a half to spend a few days with her and be with her on her 87th birthday. Mom had been invited out to a regular monthly dinner thrown by a group of young gay men she’s adopted and grandmothers, which is lovely (although apparently I need to have my sister tell me about the time Mom met my sister’s Mormon bishop and went on and on about “her boys”); but she then decided this was such an “exclusive” invitation that she wouldn’t:
a) Tell the guys her granddaughter was coming to visit her from 900 miles away, and ask could she possibly join them? or even
b) Allow her granddaughter to be at her house when they came to pick her up!
As it turns out, my daughter spent the evening with my sister, and they had a lovely time bitching sympathetically about Mom. I was furious, needless to say, over this whole thing, but I’ve learned my lesson well, alas – there was and is no point in taking Mom to task over it because any time you say anything critical to her these days? She fucking cries. Even when it’s something she needs to hear, like she’s just been so fucking rude to her granddaughter I cannot fucking believe it!
But the kicker? When I had my regular weekly phone call with my mother, she told me what they had to eat at this “exclusive,” invites only, heaven forbid her granddaughter should be there, monthly dinner?
Fucking PIZZA!
Holy fuck, Mom, you’ve already driven me crazy enough that I live on the other side of the country from you, and now, when you finally end up with one of my kids living close enough to come visit you occasionally, THIS is how you fucking treat her? Do you want her to never come see you again? Because you’re fucking going about it the right way!
Hey, Boss? Are you and the twunt trying to drive me crazy? Cuz I can and will retaliate in meaningful ways.
You must have forgot the cardinal rule about fucking with your support staff. I bet the wife was thrilled that you forgot your anniversary and her birthday this year without my reminders. I thoughtfully wished her happiness on both occasions, though, so she knows I still like her.
I hope whatever the twunt has on you has been worth losing the respect of your staff and peers.
I know we’re mercifully spared until next April, but fuck Jon Miller and Joe Morgan. Joe, you have two types of analysis: blindingly obvious and blindingly wrong. When you say something like “the catcher wanted the ball outside, but it drifted over the plate, and that’s why he hit it so hard” and the replay clearly shows the ball three inches outside, don’t say “yeah, see, that got more of the plate than he wanted.” Just say “well, I guess that wasn’t as bad as I thought.” Or better yet, just shut the fuck up. And Jon, you’re just there to make Joe look smart. Find a job you’re good at already.
Does it cost you anything to be polite to the’help’? While staying at a motel that offers a hot breakfast, when the coffee pot is empty don’t stand there wailing at the one and only guy working that there is no coffee, while he is dealing with another wailer.
( I decided to help the guy out by making coffee
You know what being nice got me? A free night in the motel! )
I didn’t want to rant about Grandma on the boards, but seeing as I’ve been beaten to it by Mama Tiger, DAMMIT GRANDMA! (Though it was 650 miles, not 900…still, with all the mountainous stretches, that’s a two-day drive!) Luckily for me, I can’t do that drive again until the snow all melts, and the snow will be falling pretty much anytime here. So I wouldn’t have to put up with her bullshit until next spring or early summer, except that – oh darn! – that’s getting into a busy time at work so I couldn’t get away unless she was DEAD or DYING! So no, you don’t get to see me and screw around with my feelings again for a long, long time, Grandma. Now I totally see why my cousins avoid you – I’ve had plenty of hints before, but nothing like this has ever happened. Avoiding you will pretty much be my plan from here on out.
And on a more minirant note, fuck you parade organizers. This is a small town. This was a small parade. There was no reason for there to be ten-minute streches of absolutely fucking nothing in between the few groups that you had in the parade. I can understand the delay before the sheep, because sheep have to be herded and are stupid, but why the rest of the delays? My back is really pissed off at me now. (The theme of the weekend was sheep. Sounds weird, but it makes sense. Used to be lots of money from sheep around here.)
And fuck you camera for seizing up while I was taking pictures of the sheep. I know I got a few, but I wanted a bunch so I could pick and choose what goes online.
My whiny rants are so wimpy in comparison to others, but I guess I’ll toss them in.
Oh, dear beloved administration: when you make a point of telling me the building will be open on Sunday because the math teachers have to be there for a day long workshop, could you take a moment to make sure the building is actually OPEN? I stood outside for twenty minutes, pounding on the windows, buzzing the office and calling the main number in the hope that someone would hear and let me in, so I could get some work done. Now, I have to wake up early tomorrow so that I can get grading and prep done, and I hate waking up early.
Also, fellow teachers with whom I share a classroom: I’m so glad you’ve realized that the baby wipes I bought clean the whiteboards a hundred bajillion times better than icky erasers they supplied us with. However, do you think you might limit yourself to oh, five or six wipes per board per day? I bought the damn package last week, and there’s less than half left. Also, please stop killing the markers. I realize that your favorite movie scene in the world must be the shower scene from Psycho, but re-enacting it with the markers as the knife and the whiteboard as whatserface only ruins the markers and puts me in a bad mood when I can’t find a single working marker among those that I have bought, borrowed, begged, or stolen.
If you’re going to kill the markers, fucking by your own.
I want every goddamn motherfucking website to stop fucking putting slow-loading doodads on ther fucking horseshit pages so I don’t have to sit there waiting for the goddamn motherfucking doodads to load so I can click on the actual goddamn motherfucking link that is already visible but it jumps right at the last second (because of the goddamn motherfucking doodads) so that my click goes to some bullshit I had no goddamn motherfucking intention to click on.
And news websites: Go fuck yourself up your weenie asses with rusty barbed wire for putting news stories in streaming-video-only format on your slow-loading, doodad-overloaded goddamn motherfucking horseshit websites.
25 hrs after a seizure now, I still feel like shit. A 100mg increase in my meds fucking blows. I feel like I have been kicked in the head. My hands are still twitchy. Gnnn.
Also, fuck you newfound lactose intolerance. I like milkshakes and now I can’t have them anymore thanks to you. If you take my cheese away we are going to have Words and they are going to be loud.
Fuck you, fantasy sports. You made all these “sports fans” come out of the woodwork. Especially ProTrade, which has nothing whatsoever to do with Sports.
What? You are happy Ben Roethlisberger is “doing well”?
You are glad Michigan is out of their slump?
Where the fuck are you from? Certainly not Cleveland. If you had any ounce of actual sports knowledge or any love for any game, you would know that those sorts of statements are grounds for a beating in many Ohio haunts.
But you ARE from Cleveland and you ARE a dumbass. I’d better not hear you talking like that around my friends and family, because I sure ain’t gonna stick up for you.
Get your fucking head out of the stats and start paying attention to Sports, which has a lot more to do with what is printed in the box score.
I just don’t get how people DO this, how people succeed in academia without being work-robots. Heck, I’m TRYING to be a work-robot and it still isn’t working! Keeping my head above the water? Sure. Making any sort of actual headway? Nuh-uh.
(For those regular minirants readers who care: I did finish my thesis, finally. I’ve moved onto bigger and better procrastinations now.)
Fuck the asshole on the bicycle who blasts through a stop sign while I’m making a left hand turn. Do you want to die? Fuck it, next time I’m accelerating through and telling the cop “I dunno. I saw the car stopping, didn’t see the cyclist keep coming. Why would he go through a stop sign anyway. Duh.”
Fuck the store installation guys who leave staples, nails and grease all over the floor of my garage, so that I fucking slip and drop my motorbike when parking. That’s what sucks the worst.
)