You work with Brick Tamland?
That’s not the name he goes by here, but if Brick Tamland is an annoying putz who thinks this exchange is high-larious, then yes! I do!
Grr.
I pit the bloody retard I had the ‘pleasure’ of working with last week.
We’d been given three days to clean up a lot near the centre of town. Sweep the leaves away, trim the bushes, clear the trash and jet-wash everything. It was a shit hole but three days should have been plenty. IF he wasn’t such a lazy fucking bastard!
Next to the lot was a pub… He was in there at least three times a day, during working hours, for a pint. When he was working it was at a pace that would’ve made a snail blush. By the end of the second day (I had expected us to be completely finished by now) all he had done was trim the bushes, and poorly, a total of about 4-5 hours work. I had done all the sweeping, raking and clean up (two skips worth).
We had the whole of the last day to jet-wash the patio/car park area. I was looking forward to an easy day, as every muscle in my feet, legs, arms, hands and back were killing me. It would have been easy, except the fucker had the intelligence of a New Earth Creationist.
It became painfully obvious, quite quickly, that sweeping away the muddy water wasn’t a good idea, yet he persisted. How he didn’t notice, after he’d come back from his morning pint, that I’d done more work in the last 20 minutes than he had in the last hour, I don’t know. We did finish, but only because the boss came by to check on us earlier than planned and agreed that sweeping was a bad idea.
Add to this his mind-numbing ability to repeat the same phrase over and over and over again, along with his lechering towards every single half-attractive women that walked past, and I hope I never see the fucker again.
Worst of all, he supported Chelsea.
I pit having fucking PINKEYE.
**AGAIN. **
I had this shit last year and that time, I had to throw away 2 pairs of perfectly good extended wear contact lenses. I was lucky that this time I only had to pitch one. However, this was balanced out by the eyedrops I was given being out of date by 3 frelling years. No wonder they weren’t doing me any good.
Yes, it’s SO much fun trying to read the computer screen when only one eye works at full capacity and the other is stuttering along!!
I pit an eBay seller.
Look, you slimy wanker, “NEW WITH TAGS” DOES NOT MEAN GENTLY USED WITH THE TAGS STUCK BACK INSIDE THE ITEM.
There are marks on the front and back of this leather wallet. Most aggravating is a 1/2 long scrape to the leather right on the front of it – a scrape that can’t be buffed out and is very obvious just by looking at it. There are no tags except a manufacturer’s advertising card (stiff paper, about the size of a credit card) which has been placed back in the wallet. It’s obvious the wallet is not “new” though it probably only was used once or twice – or else it was purchased at a discount due to the condition.
Unfortunately, the condition was not honestly disclosed by the seller. The scrape is not visible from the single picture on the auction. Unfortunately for you, Seller, I would not pay such a substantial amount for a wallet with scrape on the front of it if I saw it in a store, and I sure as hell won’t pay that for this wallet from you. Why not? Because you marketed it as BRAND NEW and it is NOT.
If I wanted a defective or used wallet, I would have bid on one – and paid accordingly.
Now, instead of enjoying the new wallet I’ve been looking forward to like a little kid waiting for a magic decoder ring, I have to arrange to mail this damaged one back to the UK. Dammit! :mad:
I pit lightning for striking another damned tree in my back yard Friday night. It’s only been three months since the last tree was struck, not 20 feet away from this one. What the hell happened to lightning not striking in the same place twice?
Not that I’ll miss the tree (a big, scraggly pine) but I will miss the ridiculous wad of money it costs to have it taken down.
I’ll pit Ice Road Truckers. I haven’t seen enough of the show to know if it’s any good or not, but its’ ALWAYS on and what the fuck does it have to do with history (which is kinda what the HISTORY channel is supposed to be about). They’re not even trying to find a “Did the Bible Code predict Aliens Who Wrote the Secret?” filament thin link to history anymore.
I pit sweat. God, I’m all sweaty! Arrgghh get it off get it off get it off >_<
I pit my district manager, for telling me I can work circles around “Bob”, telling me that it’s good for Bob to be around me so that he can watch me and “see how things are supposed to be done”, and then turning around a month later and PROMOTING BOB. If we ever work in the same store again, he will be my boss.
Infuriated does not begin to describe it…
I pit Mia Farrow for offering to trade her own freedom for that of Darfur rebel Suleiman Jamous. It’s not the “selflessness” but the fakeness of the act: I just have a mental image of the U.S. State Department saying “Sure, you can have her… not like her career’s been worth a damn since Woody got custody of his wife” and Sudan saying “That’ll work, come on over!” and Mia doing an imitation of a terrified cockatiel by simultaneously shitting and pissing all over the $90,000 rug in her entry hall as she runs to hide in the panic room behind her wine rack. This thing has publicity stunt written all over it.
And on the Hollywood Front as well, Sean Penn for seeming to think that his actions mean a goddamned thing. His little Chavez stunt- bitch, you’d have your picture taken juggling aborted fetuses with Squeaky Fromme outside of Muhammad Omar’s clitcutter’s salon if you thought it’d get you some controversy and a “you know, he’s not just an actor- he’s an actor who cares and is really clued in”. Penn, baby- you’re one of millions and millions of Americans against the war and the Bush Administration, but the difference in the asshole you are and the assholes Bush & Cheney are is that their assholery really does affect people’s lives and yours just makes you look like a dickweed wanting press between humorless awards show appearances (cause humorlessness equals depth, you know).
In fairness, I must retract my pitting of the eBay seller, who suggested I keep the wallet and refunded half my purchase price. (She would have accepted a return for a full refund as well.) I still think she knew the wallet had minor damage – it’s right on the front, and it’s unlikely it got scraped flying through the mail boxed in bubblewrap – but she certainly was more than fair in how she addressed my concern. So consider that pitting rescinded.
I’m sitting here fuming mad on your behalf. Man, that sucks hard.
I pit my car. And I’m sorry to do it, because i just got it in January, and before that I had a literal klunker of a car which I was really tempted to drive into the Hudson River. But this car is making a Bad Engine Noise. It doesn’t have a timing belt, it just had its oil changed, it’s not the brakes or mufflers, both of which I would recognize. Which means no matter what I have to take it in. Which means it will probably cost a fucking fortune. I don’t have a fucking fortune.
While I’m at it I pit goddamn sleazy car repair people. $400 for a simple fucking part, or so it seems to me anyway. How can they get away with charging so fucking much every time your car makes a funny noise. You rat bastards, I’m on to you.
I’m getting only madder as I type this so I’ll stop, but - did I mention I only got this car in January? It’s got some mileage, yes, but it’s a FUCKING Corolla! My last two Corollas made it almost to 200,000 miles EACH. This one has LESS THAN HALF that.
GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR :mad:
You have my sympathies, Aanamika. My Civic has 140,000 miles on it and lately if I have the AC on, every time I stop at a light it shudders like a dog shitting a peach pit. I’m afraid its death is iminent at every red light. And I can’t really run it without the AC because it’s approximately 9000 degrees out, so I’ve adopted profane pleading as the method to keep it going: “Oh shit, don’t die; oh shit, don’t die . . . .”
I pit the Polish Army. Sure, you might not like the fact that I decided to invade poor defenseless Prussia and attack their castles. You might even get it into your head that you can disobey me, your king and battlefield overlord.
But don’t add to the already poor reputation for Polish behavior by running this way and that when I give you a simple move command, causing me to lose hundreds of more moronic troops than necessary when they decide to go the absolute opposite direction of where I send them.
Does this happen when I play Russia or England? No!
So start acting more like your World War II fighter pilots or Napoleon’s Lancers, not some tired Rust Belt stereotype.
I have two related rants:
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To cow-orker sitting four feet away, on the other side of a barrier: your “aromatherapy” scent of Calgon Grocery Store Tropical Breeze Ginger Gag-Me Gunk is gross. Not only do you wear this stuff, but you spray it on three times a day while sitting at your desk. This results in our entire floor being engulfed in your cloud of choking stink all day long. I get it worst of all, sitting so close. The fumes actually settle into my glass of water and I can taste it when I drink. HR is so going to hear about this.
-
To whoever in our neighborhood who uses a peculiar brand of either laundry detergent or scented dryer sheets: it stinks. When you use this stuff, the heat from your dryer sends forth the perfumey funk all over the block. It’s a real treat to ride my bike in the mornings through a bank of this stench - NOT. I don’t know what brand it is, but it must be “cheesey bargain basement over-scented caca” variety. I sometimes smell this exact brand on someone’s clothes as they walk past and can instantly pinpoint it. Gah!
Dear whoever buys the soap for the bathrooms on campus:
Please do not buy hospital scented soap anymore. It gives me a headache and saline flashbacks. Washing my hands is supposed to prevent me from getting sick, not be the cause of it!
Stupid temp agency crones - they call, leave a message that they have an assignment for me. Yay! In spite of Calgary having a -50% unemployment rate right now, I haven’t gotten an assignment from any of the four agencies I’m signed up with in seven months now. I call her back - oh, she’s just stepped out - she’ll be back in five minutes, can she call me back? Sure, here’s my home number, since I’m at home (and my cell phone battery just died). Four hours pass, no call. I call her back - the job’s been filled already. Bitch. Do you treat your clients like you treat your temps? You sure as hell don’t. You treat them with a little respect and actually return their calls. I don’t know why all temp agency women are so stupid - how can they not realize that temps are just as important to the equation of making money as the clients? Or maybe they get that, they just figure that temps are disposable employees and as such don’t deserve any respect. And I love that stupid game they always play; “What salary were you looking for?” and the dollar figure you name is what you get, regardless of how they’re billing out the job. What I would like is 75% of what YOU are getting for the job. I’ve worked AP for a long time now; I know exactly how your billing works. I’ve cut the cheques for you for temps. Oh, to be independently wealthy.
And you have mine, dear. After all, it was only January when I got rid of the old one.
It kept draining the battery, the bitch. And the timing belt was on its last legs. And someone had hit it long ago, so it looked like crap, too. The trunk leaked. The driver’s side window had lost the rubber lining so you were never warm enough in the winter. And the passenger’s side door handle was busted so you had to roll down the window to get out.
The worst thing was I gave up my previous car to switch to this one. This is how it worked: my previous car had 170,000 or so miles on it. The SO had this crappy car, but it had about 100K miles. He got a new car from his parents (thank Og). I loved my previous car, it was my first car, and I still miss it, but it was on its last legs. So I took his car until we could afford a used one for me and suffered in silence for a while - after all, he had suffered. But it *was OK *that my old car was falling apart because it was MY CAR and I loved that car. The new one - it didn’t like me and I didn’t like it. We learned to tolerate each other - eventually.
I am humbled by your offer, Incensed, and I am not easily humbled. 
Humiliated easily, sure, but not humbled.