I pit my coworker who spent 20 minutes at my desk bitching about another cowoker who sits yakking to her for lengths of time. Ummm. Yeah.
Even putting my headphones back on and making a quick comment as to how much I like the song she interrupted did not dissuade her.
And, in light of how horrible I have been typing this little post, I pit my long fingernails.
I pit the lack of rain that just cancelled my birthday outing of white-water rafting. No water.
ketchup
I pit my Director.
“I don’t want to hear it” should be carved into her headstone.
Hey, I don’t fucking care if you don’t want to hear it. Go home to your mommy and let her deal with the Adult things if you can’t do it.
The job isn’t about YOU, you stupid cunt. Allowing your ego to get in the way of solving problems doesn’t help you, our department, or our employer.
I pit the three jerks at Staples (two of them being part of what apparently is Staples’ version of Geek Squad, “Easy Tech”) today who tried to push an extended warranty on me for the new printer I was buying. GRRRRRR
I. Do. Not. Buy. Extended. Warranties.
I nearly walked out without buying the printer, but that was overridden by the stronger desire to not spend any more time futzing around with my old, seriously malfunctioning printer.
I pit being on dialup after three years of happy DSL goodness.
However it’s nice that my old PCI modem is still showing me some love, even though the tower it was previously in was stuffed under a table collecting dustbunnies, and I’ve just unceremoniously yanked it out of there and jammed it into my new tower.
Also, the dope is surprisingly quick on dialup.
Damn it mom! you don’t have to hide your fuck’n hotdogs in the fridge! I gave two of your fuck’n CHICKENPORKSHIT weiners to the stray cat outside, you said, you bought them by mistake, you hate em and intended to throw them out, so why resort to hiding them in the far corner of your fridge instead of where you usually keep them (in door)? When I asked you about it, mom, your expression gave you away–BUSTED. So, I’ll buy you a fuckload of weiners tomorrow! For 3 yrs now, I’ve been your full-time caregiver 24/7/3-hundred fuck’n-65 days a year! I cleared all your fraudulently acquired credit card debt for you, $84-fuck’n thousand dollars!!! it took me 5 years, the latest acct, just two-fuck’n-days ago!!!, I’ve showered you with luxury vacations, expensive gifts etc; your whacked out doctor told you you’d be dead by xmas 04, I found you better doctors and compared to your previous quality of life, your living a queens life today!.. you just fuck’n pissed me off with that little tiny thing you did… just crushed me. Why mom? … sigh.
I pit the ad I saw in the local alterna-rag today, which I’m fairly sure wasn’t intentionally ironic:
COLLEGE NIGHT at
Willy’s Mexicana Grill
$3.50 burrito’s all day long!
I don’t want to be an ass but I’m going to have to pit this pitting. This is just about the poorest excuse for a pitting I’ve ever seen. I’m not passing by this mother again without saying SOMETHING! It’s too freakin’ happy “Pit Whatever You’d Like” What in a great hairy Zeus?! I want a pitting with some foaming at the mouth! Broken down doors, I almost got ran over, that greasy scumbag nearly killed me! Something! Shit man, this is like a pitting brought to you courtesy of Polly Pockets or something! Where’s my magnifying glass. I’m going to go find an anthill and play satellite of DOOM! Crap it’s dark already and the cats move way to fast to kick, hell I haven’t seen a dog on my block in 3 years. Screw it. I guess I’ll just sit on the couch and watch T.V. .Shit.
Damn.
Cherries. And peaches.
I pit my fridge for not having more beer in it.
This isn’t a pitting… but Omegaman, you’re one fuckin’ funny guy.
I Pit Gnutella. (Not the Poster. The chocolate-type spread.) What the hell are you? You aren’t peanut butter, you aren’t chocolate, and you don’t even tell me how many calories you have. Fuck-knows if you even have to be refrigerated after you’ve been opened, oh Lucrezia Borgia of the sandwich spreads. You would have been such a good appetizer for sex-play too, if only you weren’t such a freakin’ tease…!
but it’s is a shortening of “it is” hence the apostrophe.
I pit myself. The other day after the same child had been screaming it’s head off for the better part of 10 minutes, I finally could take no more and muttered to myself quietly (caution: nasty, vile thing in box):
Where’s SIDS when you need it?
My co-worker turned to me with a simply ashen expression and all I could do was ask, “Did I actually say that out loud?”
I pit cheese, you delicious bastard food go fuck yourself with a am 18 inch dildo in the wrong hole for being so damn good.
Yes, when you used it correctly, it was correct.
But when you said
that wasn’t so correct.
Not yet, you haven’t, not so’s anybody would notice.
I pit contrarians.
I pit the muffler on my car, which fell to earth out on the highway, on the day I began to drive off to enjoy my vacation.
Tris