Stupid grackles! Get the hell away from my bird feeder! I don’t want you there. I put that out there for the cute birds, the finches and cardinals and that nice little indigo bunting that’s been hanging around lately. Not only are you ugly-ass birds eating all my bird seed, you’re scaring away the birds that I *want *to feed. Go find some roadkill somewhere that you can peck at. Thank you.
Yep. I threw in any extra “n” for good luck. I hope you do or don’t get rain, whichever is best.
Yes, you have to pay for parking. Yes, you’re a member. Too bad. The employees have to pay too.
No, you can’t have your three dollars back. No, we never said in your membership packet that parking was free. And hell no you don’t get free parking down at the main museum in Oakland. Do you really think we’re that fucking stupid?
It’s three bucks. Suck it up. That’s fucking cheap around here-the Andy Warhol charges $12 for parking.
Go ahead and cancel your membership* over three bucks. And while you’re at it, go fuck yourself with a rusty meathook.
*A membership which gets you free admission to four museums, free laser shows on Friday and Saturday nights, discounts on Omnimax films, museum cafes, gift shops, etc. Go ahead and ask them to cancel it over three friggin’ bucks. At least, go ahead and try.
Gee, it couldn’t have anything to do with your foul attitude.
125 bucks a year for unlimited parking, downtown, in major metropolises all over America?
The dude’s got to be smoking some pretty good weed to believe that!
Dudley, stop. She’s just not that into you.
Just because she’s letting off steam about it here doesn’t mean she talks the same way to the stupid member, you know.
Speciesist.
Ooo, I hate that commercial.
Listen up, little brother’s girlfriend: We all know that you have big tits. We know this because everytime we see you, they’re busting out of your fucking shirt. I don’t begrudge you showing them off, I wish I had that much up top. However, I have to wonder if family functions are the best place to flaunt your jigglies. Surely you have a kegger to go to where they would be better appreciated?
I’ve come to terms with the fact that you’re a loud, bossy bitch. Apparently, you weren’t raised right and don’t know any better. I can live with your fake nails and thick layers of makeup, even if I question the wisdom of green eyeshadow. I’m not quite okay with the racism, but for the sake of peace at the dinner table, I’m biting my tounge. I’m even learning to be okay with you living with my brother and taking control of his life. After all, he’s a big boy. But if you don’t start keeping those cans under wraps, I’m going to say something rude and things are going to be awkward.
Garage sale rants:
- If something is marked .20C, just buy it. You zeroed in on it right away and carried it around whispering “my preciousssss” (at least that’s what I thought I heard). Don’t come up to me and try to offhandedly say “So, howsabout .15C?” No, two dimes are smaller than a dime and a nickel.
- You saw something Thursday, hemmed and hawed, decided against it. Don’t come back today and pitch a bitch that it’s gone. It’s a S A L E, not a SAVE for some pinhead who dithers.
- Thank you for buying the monstrous desk for $10 (haggled down from a whole $20). Yes, it is in two parts. You only want the bottom part, not the storage bins part? Uh, okay. For $5? No. We just agreed to $10. No, your daughter cannot raid the boxes of toys for $5 worth of stuff - well, she can, if you or she pays for it.
- People have different tastes. Understood. You spent at least 15 minutes going through every damn piece of clothes on the tables sniggering about how tacky some of it was. Then DON’T buy it anything. Leave. And a hearty blow me for having to pick up all that you tossed on the ground during your “What Not To Wear” routing. Much appreciated.
- When you ask my mom if we have any ‘toys for boys’, don’t give her a dirty look when she point at the… toys. If you want tools, ask if we have tools. Tool.
- Drive bys. Okay, whatever. Just don’t slam your frigging brakes at the end of the driveway, then squeal away like your ass is on fire… only to slam on your breaks in front of the garage sale next door.
- Great! Wow! It’s nice to see you too! Haven’t seen you in years! No, I really can’t sit and catch up - I’m kinda busy. Sure, sure, I understand that NOW is the only time you have to chat, what with your super special, super busy life. No problem. You don’t want my phone number to call and talk because, again, you’re super busy? Go away.
- I am not a daycare provider.
- No, you cannot use my bathroom
- No, you cannot have some of my lunch.
- Nor can your kid.
- When you drive past and see that there is not much left, and what there is left is all boxed up on a couple of tables, AND I shake my head NO… do not pull into my driveway (hunh?!) and get out. When I tell you we’re closed, do not open up a box and start digging through it. Oh great, you want to buy a hat. No, you want it free? Why would I give it to you for free? “It was in the free box” No, heifer, it was in a closed box. It had been the free box, when we were, you know, open. Now it’s a box if stuff to be put away.
- When my mom tells you the hat is a friggin quarter, don’t try to argue with her. No one has EVER won. Seriously. She’s tired and cranky. My dead dad made more money than she did today. My grandniece peed on her. She got her first sunburn in over 30 years yesterday. Yeah, threaten to call the cops. You’re unwanted on my property. Go away. “I would’ve paid for the hat if you weren’t soooo horrible”. Whatever. The hat was hideous on you anyways.
- The shutters didn’t sell. No big deal. Who the hell would want big bird yellow shutters? I sure didn’t, which is why they were in the sale. No ma, I don’t want to keep them. I’m just going to put a free sign and move them to the end of the drive. A waste of money? I didn’t buy them! I don’t like them! No, I will not think of something to use them for. They’re BIG BIRD YELLOW PLASTIC SHUTTERS!
- Ex in the basement? You’re behind on rent. When the whole garage sale thing came up I told you MULTIPLE times that if it’s in the garage it’s gone and the money is mine. The note about the garage sale was on the fridge for weeks. I verbally reminded you Tuesday - “You got to get what you want to keep out of the garage, else it’s mine to sell”. Don’t piss and moan because I made a few bucks off your precious belongings. Dude, there were games and beanie babies. Not gold ingots. You’re now behind on rent less $7.00. Whoop de friggin do.
Well, that’s fucking pathetic. And I am not exaggerating.
Yet another person confirming my suspicion that “panic attack” is code for “sudden realization that nobody is paying attention to me.”
Stop invading my personal space.
I do the retail thing. A lot of it involves looking up customer requests in our database.
In theory, this is how the process goes. Customer stands in front of our customer service desk and says they want “X.” I type this information in, find out what area “X” is in and then go off and get “X” for the customer.
Most customers, however, feel some compelling urge to move from the front of the desk, stand right next to me, breathe down my neck and read the computer screen over my shoulder.
It’s rude and obnoxious. How does looking at the computer screen help you, exactly? Do you think I’m going to lie and tell you we don’t have “X” when we do? Do you feel the need to share your bad breath with me?
Fuck you and get some better manners.
How about the assholes who proselytize me at work? It takes some spectacular kind of insecurity to only approach people who are in no position to loudly rebuff you. It makes me almost admire the ones with the balls to walk right up to my door. I mean, for all they know, I’m a reclusive axe-murderer who switches immediately into bloodthirsty frenzy at the mere mention of redemption–whereas at work, people can safely assume that I’m going to be professional and enabling to the extent that I have to.
Tonight was the third fucking time I’ve been invited to a church at work. And it’s always near closing, for what that’s worth–I don’t even fucking know. Oh, and a FOAF who I barely know, overheard me talking to my coworker about my recent health problems and pulled me aside to ask if he could pray for me. Said he knew a specific prayer for heart problems, and that it really helped, and God really did come down to Earth and lay his fucking noodly appendage on people’s fucking ventricles or something. What the fuck could I say? I was rather offended at someone I barely know offering to invoke a vicious, bloodthirsty deity on my heart. I mean, that shit is fucking scary. But what can I say? I was at work, and in this society–and in backwards-ass East County specifically–you’re expected to lap it up and thank the asshole profusely who brings your fucking long-term health into the spirit world. I felt like Alex in A Clockwork Orange. “Thank you sir, that was very generous! May I please have another?” I tried to tell him I was uncomfortable with the notion of him praying for me, but the motherfucker was pushy. And I just didn’t have the heart (heh) to tell him how much he was offending me, especially since he thought he was being so sweet.
But this is the shit that pisses me off about religion. I mean, if I showed up at someone else’s cafe and accosted the help about how God doesn’t exist and they really, really should call 1-800-DONT-PRAY and someone will help them get over their delusions about spirituality, I would be ejected at best, and arrested at worst. At the very least, the burning derision of the customers would all but force me to flee with my tail between my legs.
I hear that this joke is so funny in German, it’s deadly.
How many people actually drive earth-friendly vehicles without having a job? I do have a job, and buying a hybrid or electric car is so far beyond my ability it’s not even funny.
Because–as explained in the OP–the party-thrower pays based on how many people are attending, and if someone doesn’t RSVP they may or may not be planning to attend. Gee, maybe that’s the whole point of the RSVP.
Why does it matter whose fault it is? It’s expected of any modern bank that with some combination of a signature, government-issued identification and memorized personal information you can access your account. Any teller who refuses to do this–or puts up a fight about it–either:
A. Has too much time on his hands.
B. Is a lazy motherfucker who doesn’t want to do her job.
C. Works for a shitty-ass bank.
or
D. Some combination of the above.
Sounds like Northern Virginia. The illegals aren’t necessarily from Mexico, but various place in Central America.
The day laborers used to congregate in front of a 7-11 along a major road in Herndon every day waiting to get picked up for the next job. I guess all the good God-fearing white folk got themselves together and had a town meeting over it. The illegals were no longer allowed to wait in front of the 7-11, so they wait a block down the street a some Hispanic supermarket.
In any case, I can see both sides of this issue. I think open borders would be fine, but they’d have to make minimum wage at the very least. And I don’t think costs should go up if the employers had to pay them such… but let’s not turn this into an anti-capitalism rant. I have a couple issues with illegal immigrants from the side of being American:
-
Learn to speak English please. Being several different places around the world, English isn’t automatically accommodated. After having to learn basic Greek and Italian because I was a long-term visitor in each country, I so no plausible reason why the illegals (or otherwise recent immigrants) cannot learn basic phrases.
-
At least act like you’re interested in being here. Has festivals, share with us your culture, but not always under the guise of you trying to make a quick buck. Because that’s the way it seems. This pertains to:
- Asians
- Indians
- Arabs
- Hispanics (from all origins)
Immigrants with these ethnicities are the firsts to live 15 to a small apartment so they can work, earn money, but only to return home with their savings accounts to spend money THERE.
Sure there are restaurants of these ethnicities everywhere – but the cost-to-food ratio is staggering. For example, every time I eat Chinese food here in NoVA, I feel like I was just duped. Hmmm… I had some rice, frozen crab rangoons, fatty beef teriyaki, and tiny chunks of chicken in my King Pao. This cost me $18. I’ll bet it cost the restaurant under a buck for all the food. Damn. I don’t really go anymore because of this.
This, of course is purely anecdotal. YMMV.
Funny thing about Herndon, some of the uber-liberals (got I hate them) decided that they would push to have an old police barracks renovated (at the cost of the town) to house said illegals. This included furniture, AC, heating, and a low-cost cafeteria. That was shot the fuck down pretty quick.
You really have a weird obsession about restaurants, eating out and being conned while in such establishments. Since I doubt this is in the DSM-IV, maybe a psychiatrist can use the Joy of Cooking instead.
Oh, shut the fuck up. My post had really little to do with restaurants.
Where does this myth of “immigrants who never learn English” come from? When you hear people talking in Spanish, do you assume that that’s the only language they know?
After someone risks their freedom and goes through the terrible ordeal of sneaking into the US, just to make less than minimum wage to try to feed their family, you’ve got the nerve to tell them they’re not interested in being here? Fuck you. You should be god damned grateful that you don’t have to risk life, limb and your very freedom to be guaranteed $5.15 (or whatever it is now) an hour, vote, drive, and raise a family without looking over your shoulder and waiting for the axe to fall. And what the fuck is up with your blanket statement about how “Asians” (whatever that means), “Indians” (I’m sure someone with your level of ignorance is talking about two if not four or more different countries here without even knowing it), “Arabs” (I’m sure you don’t know what that means either), and “Hispanics” from all origins are only willing to “share” their culture if they “make a quick buck”? Where the fuck does this even come from? How is Jose Mexicano struggling to feed his family making $3 an hour “making a quick buck” off of bringing Mexican culture to the US? And what alternative method do you propose? Starting a fucking Wikipedia page?
You’re a racist and an asshole, and your ignorance of American history is stunning. I won’t even dignify this part with a response.
You can’t figure out how to eat Chinese food cheaply when there are a million good, cheap Chinese takeaway places in every city–and this is every Asian immigrant’s fault? You know what they say about fools and their money.
Edit: I found a place–in California, where the cost of everything is higher–where I can eat about twice that much for $4.15. And I wasn’t even looking.
I feel your pain. But they don’t have the excuse of “baffling card reader” at my store because all they have to do is swipe the card, and it brings up, like, prompts. In plain English. Read the prompt, push the appropriate button. Not rocket science.
One of them came back last night, and I had the SAME encounter. :rolleyes: … :mad:
This time I endeavored to instruct him as I was demonstrating, “See, now it says Yes so you push Yes because that means it’s okay…”
If he comes back again tonight I may have to hurt him.
Fetus, If it’s racist to say that many people who come here (many illegally) from other countries live 15 to a room and send all their money back to their country of origin, then to my surprise I have become a racist. Funny, I thought this was just a comment about the way things are here in LA. Maybe in San Diego things are different. And when I was working many people came in who needed the (free!) services we were providing but who did not speak enough English to convey their needs or understand our requirements. This was a problem, but not for them, as the law required us to help them anyway and provide a translator if needed. Odd. When I have gone to other countries no one has offered me a translator (or free food for that matter…) But, I am now a racist, so never mind.
That’s a pretty oversimplified analysis of my argument. I can see how you got it, but neither “Hispanics” nor “Indians” were the first to live 15 to a room here, which is what DudleyGarrett said. Immigrants from places such as Ireland, Eastern Europe (like my great-grandfather), Northern Europe etc. came here and they did the same thing: they lived 15 to a room, they worked for peanuts for the only people who could get over their racism enough to hire them, which not coincidentally were shitty jobs; they learned on the job; they learned English while they were here; they tried to build something for the future of their family and, despite their struggles, after a few generations their descendants had a real nice thing going here.
Edit: Ignored the other part, sorry. Of course they send money back to their families in Mexico (or wherever)–they need it badly over there. Even more than they need it over here. I’m sure if you had a kid going to college in New Jersey, you would send money to your family across state lines to keep them on their feet. Does that make you an asshole for spending California money in another state economy?
Of course, that just means they weren’t trying hard enough, right? They just didn’t care about speaking English, right? Or maybe they had never been exposed to it to any significant degree and now they were trying to learn it as adults, probably without any formal instruction? Have you done that with a second language? If you have, I’m sure you understand how difficult it is, especially if you add the struggles and distractions of trying to raise a family and keep a house of (as you say) 15 in order, all on below minimum wage in a state where even minimum wage is inadequate to cover your basic expenses.