They fired Kenny!
We can put a fucking man on the moon, but I’ve yet to find a state-licenced cosmetologist who can make my hair a real shade of blonde. :mad:
Goddamn, motherfucking, cocksucking ground squirills are killing my trees by chewing up the drip line that waters them and causing an overall pressure drop and leakage, preventing the trees at the end of the run from getting any water, not to mention the extra expense and time spent constantly repairing the damaged sections of the line! :mad: :mad: :mad:
I pit the rain that ruined yesterday and the stormfront winds that are blowing everything around today.
I pit drivers who insist on sharing their lousy taste in music with the rest of us.
I can’t check my e-mail because for some reason, yahoo mail isn’t working. Stupid piece of fucking shit. I’m really compulsive about checking my e-mail. Now I want to scream and smash something.
I’d like to pit the receptionist here at work who does not have the common sense to understand that she should not be receiving 50 (yes, that’s an ACTUAL number) personal incoming calls a day - how many FUCKING emergencies can your 17 year old daughter or unemployed dirt-bag husband have during one day!!! and can you please teach them how to speak to other folks on the phone im fucking sick and tired of answering your personal calls when your on the other line actually conducting buiness only to get stunned silence for a few moments - I say Hello? three times and they finally wake up out of their stoner daze to ask for you LATHER RINSE REPEAT - 50 TIMES DAILY, FIVE FUCKING DAYS A WEEK!! AD INFINITUM!!! GAAAAAAAAAH!!! :mad:
I pit CrazyCatLady for never revealing what her “psycho-social theory” about mailing addresses was.
I pit myself for having my very first post in the pit rather than MPSIMS where it belongs.
If you have one each of the fifty State Quarters, once they all become available in a few years, you’d have $12.50—that’s barely enough to buy two value meals at Carls’ Jr. That’s fifty coins to buy a couple of cheap lunches, and they’re the highest value coin we have.
Apparently I’m the only one in the U.S. who sees how bizarre this is.
Do you ever shut up? 45 minutes each way five days a week for over a year non-stop about your horses on and on and on and on and on… and annoyingly loud even when you are three rows back. Your voice is so irritating I have started wearing ear plugs and today I could still hear you through the ear plugs. Shut. Up.
Students (or people in general) who, despite being told multiple times by the Powers That Be and chatting with their more clued-in fellows, suddenly remember critical paperwork is due at the last possible moment and expect everyone else to drop what they are doing and help them get the paperwork completed.
<< Lack of planning on your part does not constitute an emergency on mine. >>
I pit my apparent past life, in which - according to Karma - I apparently boiled puppies
- Or -
I pit my social life, which is so bad that, as I was going about my morning ritual, when I thought I detected blood in my urine, I later realized was just rust.
No matter how careful you eat the chocolate you always find it on random parts of your clothing afterwards.
I pit the manufacturer of this fan for I have it’s evil twin.
I pit the mom of LilMiss’s friend for asking why I was asking her so many invasive questions- it’s SOP to get your phone number and ask whether friend has allergies/fears/etc when friend is sleeping over.
I pit same mom for thinking throwing a half a sandwich into the street qualifies as “feeding the birds”.
Singing “I Feel Pretty” whilst bedecked in copious amounts of costume jewelry, funky sunglasses, and outlandish purses is not being “a nuisance”, damn Target security guard.
Wait - are you saying you were giving the old monkey a spit and a shine when oblivious cow-orkers ruined the moment by trying to get into the can? Because that is hilarious.
And now my rant - listen you goddamn computer cd player, that disc does not have a single scratch on it, not one, so quit skipping around and play my fucking music!
I pit job applications that ask what grammar school I attended (I’m 45 years old, for Pete’s sake–who the frick cares?)
Neuroman, that really would be hilarious, but I don’t have one of these “old monkeys” of which you speak. 
Sadly, I was in the middle of something much less romantic. Much, much less romantic.
Today’s one-sentence rant: Dammit, would someone please acknowledge one of the resumes that my SO has sent out??!
I believe it’s “indices.”
I pit all those people who say “I could care less” when what they actually mean is “I could not care less.” :mad: