Post your one sentance rant here.

The BBQ Pit
141

It’s too fucking hot.

Neighbor kids, I’m not your fucking playmate; stop knocking on my door asking to come in.

Neighbor lady, I’m not your fucking babysitter; stop sending your kids over to my house.

Cats, do your dirty sinful business, cover it up with cat litter, and get the hell out of the box; 50 or 60 scratching motions are surely enough.

Adobe PhotoDeluxe, you suck ass.

Adobe PhotoShop Elements, you’re too expensive.

Someone ought to come in here and clean up my house, dammit.

Dearest parents, just because brown people attacked the World Trade Center doesn’t mean all brown people everywhere are deserving of torture and death.

Mr. President: it’s “NU - CLEE - AR.”

Books with over-large type are obviously written for people with a 3rd-grade eductation, if not specifically marked “LARGE TYPE EDITION.”

I hate it when my shirts get inexplicable, indelible grease stains on the front. I swear these come from the washing machine, not from my eating habits.

Sorry, how many sentences was that?

142

Hey, teenaged grocery store employee–when someone hands you a package of hot dogs and asks, “How much are these?” it should be considered a felony if you look them over carefully and then answer, “I don’t know–it doesn’t say.” and you should consider yourself lucky that I didn’t shoot you.