“Tacky” comes to mind.
To my alma mater and current employer,
I understand the value of alumni contributions. I really do. Of course the fact that you have a billion dollar endowment and corporate sponsorships coming out of every orifice make me somewhat less inclined to sympathize with your need for money, but I still get that every bit helps.
However, two things are not going to impress me. One, I don’t care if U.S. News and World Report looks at alumni contributions when they rank schools. Because U.S. News and World Report’s rankings don’t mean shit; a higher ranking because of alumni contributions is not going to increase the quality of education, which is sort of the point of the whole thing. That you worry so much about such things is troublesome enough; that you think that alumni are going to fall for such superficial things speaks volumes about how intelligent you perceive your alumni to be.
More troubling however, is this: you can not even get yourselves organized enough to realize that I currently teach at the frickin’ university. Yes, I have been on campus recently, and yes, I am aware that there is a new law school building being built (because the one they built ten years ago is apparently not new enough. Yes, I suppose that I should be grateful that after years of complaining about lack of space, the university finally bought the music department a hundred-year-old building a half mile off campus. Obviously there’s no room for a performance hall what with all the law buildings being built. Not that I’m bitter). I am not going to contribute money to an organization that is so inefficiently run that they cannot even keep track of who works for them. And which gets the e-mail that I’ve had since 1995 wrong. Not that I have any money to give you, since I’m adjunct, which means I get paid crap and denied such benefits as health insurance and a metro card that will allow me to ride the university shuttle from campus to our lovely new (old) applied music building.
I really have no strong feelings about this.
Extremely so indeed. Still, isn’t there a different term for that specific sort of ubercompetitive behavior? Like – someone who’s out to marry for money is a gold-digger, for example. Someone who’s out to grab all the glory is a gloryhound. Other than being a general dick.
Dear Bookstores and Libraries:
Zadie Smith is not an African American. And guess what? Her books are not “African American literature” either. Furthermore, it is not necessary to label all books by black authors with an AFRICAN AMERICAN LITERATURE sticker. Not only do you tend to classify books wrongly, but there is no “African American literature” genre. Anyone who thinks How Stella Got Her Groove Back and Native Son should be put on the same shelf need to be seriously bitch slapped.
While I’m on the subject, I’m sick of publishers going out of their way to let prospective readers know they’re about to read a “black” book. How do they do this, you ask? Well, they put black people on the covers, either as artwork or photography. I have nothing against black people. I love looking at them. But when I pick up a book by a white author, rarely do I see white people on the cover. The characters’ racial background is considered irrevelant enough that it doesn’t need to be mentioned before you open the damn book. Are publishers afraid that people need some type of warning when it comes to black authors, so buyer beware? Or is it solely a marketing thing, so that black readers will know which books to snatch up? I hope it’s the latter, but even that’s kind of condescending.
Regardless, I wish they would stop. Zadie Smith is a fabulous writer–one of the best of my generation IMHO–and it makes me sad that people will not read her book “White Teeth” simply because she’s been pigeonholed.
The smash comedy…opens Friday.
If it hasn’t opened yet…IT IS NOT A SMASH!!! It may have potential, but it could die a quiet death without ever being seen.
I’ve bitten my tongue a lot about this in my time here. It’s rather petty and so I haven’t said anything but it seems like posters are doing it more and more.
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You can swear in the other forums. It is not limited to the Pit. You can say whatever you like about a topic as long as you’re not insulting a poster. Please, can we stop with the, “I wish this were in the pit so I can say what I really feel.” and “Now that we’re in the pit, I can say what I really feel.” That only matters if you want to insult a poster and 90% of the time the person who is saying that isn’t! So stop saying that!
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Saying things like, “That’s the fucking stupi-checks forum That’s an. . .intriguing viewpoint. Elucidate, please.” This is also fucking stupid and you should get a warning for trying to cutesily evade the rules on insulting another poster. Which is meta-stupid because the original statement was most likely going to end with something like, “. . .idea I’ve ever heard.” Which is, wait for it, ALLOWED! Regardless of what forum you are in, you are allowed to call another poster’s argument stupid! This is not new information here, folks. What’s the deal? I see many posters posting informative and sage discussions and then they do one of these errors and leave me scratching my head, wondering, “Did so-and-so just suffer severe head trauma since their last post?”
I witnessed a cliche last night. The bus home was about a quarter full and having a bit of trouble. There was some question about whether about it would make it up one of our local hills. That didn’t bother me. These things happen, and they don’t exactly use the best busses on my route. What interupted my blissful semi-oblivion was that 21st century cliche, a mindless-sounding young woman on a cell phone who had to detail every minute of the busses journey. I keep telling myself she wasn’t aware of how loud and rude she was, but I’m not sure I believe it. In all seriousness, she was in the back seat of the bus, and I could here while I was at the front door of the bus waiting to get off. If she’d gotten off at my stop, I would have been tempted to say to her something like, “Excuse me, dear. The rest of us on the bus really don’t need to hear every word of your conversation. Would you mind being a bit quieter next time?” Of course, to do that, I would have had to interupt her conversation, which included nuggets like, “Oh, my fucking Jesus, the bus is going to stop!” She really sounded worried, and I did want to reassure her that, even if the bus did breakdown, we wouldn’t be stranded in the cold and dark for all time.
The bus driver, though, took it all in stride. He said he thought the bus was in better shape than it was, but it did have good brakes. Good enough for me.
If I had a nickel for every time I’ve heard a movie (either in its theatrical or DVD release) described as “THE comedy/drama/action/family hit of the year” I could probably afford to buy all the DVDs of those same movies that I’ve decided not to bother seeing.
I pit those of my neighbors who, 48 hours after we got 6 inches of snow, haven’t yet bothered to clear off the sidewalks in front of their house. This despite a city ordinance requiring that all sidewalks be cleared within 24 hours of a snowfall.
I can’t help noticing that most of them did manage to find the time in their busy schedule to clear their driveway, but somehow couldn’t muster the energy to finish the job by spending 10 more minutes clearing the sidewalks.
And a special “Fuck you” to the one neighbor who dumped a lot of the snow from their driveway in a huge pile across the unshoveled sidewalk. Thanks pal. I hope your SUV slides off the road and into a ditch.
♫ Hey, stupid holiday elves!
Get over your damned selves!
Your song really sucks,
And I hate your guts!
You stupid holiday elves! ♪
I’ll second this one. The good part of it here, though, is that I can call the City of Calgary and rat them out, and someone will come out and clear the sidewalk for them and send them the bill. 
(A secondary pitting to the people who clear the snow into the street instead of onto their trees and lawns. The grass and shrubs need the moisture - the street does not.)
I’m going in for the city of Omaha on this one. I assume you own that stretch of sidewalk next to the empty lot. You know the one, it leads to a pretty busy intersection of a pretty busy street? Now, you may think that no one in this town actually walks anywhere, but the many many four inch deep shoe impressions on this uncleared stretch of sidewalk should indicate to you, that yes, people use this sidewalk. Doesn’t look like any business is responsible for it, so that leaves it up to YOU. Especially since bus stops dot the sidewalk all along this busy street. Just sayin.
There’s a big empty field near my house. It’s all enclosed with very high chain link fence and there are “private property” signs all over it. During the summer on evenings and weekends they use it for soccer games; all of the rest of the time it is locked up tight. So of course people cut holes in the fence so they can sneak in and walk their dogs or smoke joints or make out or do whatever they do in one of the only green spaces in the (downtown) neighbourhood. It is a constant battle: the holes get cut in the fence, then the property owners come and patch them up again, then the next day they reappear, etc.
I try not to take sides in the issue, I am spiritually on the side of the hole-cutters but I do (grudgingly) respect private property and the rights of the property owner to not have to clean up the neighbours’ dog shit and spliff roaches and assorted litter.
I just have one thing to ask, nay, demand, of the greedy property owners: if you are going to bar your neighbours from this vast expanse of green space, that takes up about a block of valuable downtown real estate, that means it is private property and therefore your responsibility to keep the fucking sidewalk plowed. If it is an ENTIRE BLOCK of private fucking property, on a reasonably busy downtown street, property you spare no expense to keep the hoi-polloi off of, then for the love of god don’t oblige little old ladies to stagger into snowbanks and onto the road because you can’t be bothered hiring a snowblower. Jay-sus.
If you want to ask me a question over IM, then just ASK THE FUCKING QUESTION. Do NOT write me saying “Hey” and then wait for 20 minutes for a response. I’m sitting here, wondering what the hell your problem is when you can SEE I’m Online.
OTOH, if my Communicator shows me as Away or Offline, do NOT write me saying “Hey, are you there?” Because, you know, I’m not.
Oh yeah- this means you, Mr. Developer who always starts IMs with my name. I know my name, dammit! I WANT to know what you’re IMing me about!
Let’s count them.
Ten windows. Two tellers.
10 windows. 2 tellers.
TEN MOTHERFUCKING WINDOWS. TWO, I REPEAT, TWO COCKSUCKING TELLERS.
Bank of America, a word with you please. We have a problem. I’m busy and I sure the fuck ain’t getting paid by the hour. You see this expression of utter goddamned preoccupation on my face? That’s his “he just ran down to do some banking and is hoping to make it back upstairs before his world implodes” face. So two tellers, neither of whom is evidencing anything even remotely resembling interest in moving this fucking line along, is thoroughly unacceptable. It is even more unacceptable that you have two hirelings wandering around the floor, asking people if they need help. Yes, DUMB SHIT, I need help, I need a bank teller. You may have noticed my need for a bank teller given that I’m standing in line for a fucking teller here, at a fucking bank. One will be ready shortly? Fuck you, minimum wage. No I don’t want a Christmas cookie.
Excuse me, whore? Yes, you, the nicely-dressed matronly thing in the back there, yes. You. You look like you work here, is there a reason that you’re just standing around DOING NOTHING BEHIND THE TELLER WINDOWS? You’re helping? That’s great, thanks for helping. How about you cowboy the fuck up and grab a computer screen, you worthless bovine lump of flyblown beetleshit?
And fuck you, BoA, I am not overreacting, the dude behind me is flapping his arms like an enraged chicken. Let’s be clear: most people don’t like standing in line for twenty minutes TO HAND YOU THEIR MONEY. I wait, you pay me, not the other way around. What the fuck, who designed this fucked up situation in the first place?
You see this line behind me, Bank of America? A dozen people steadily going more bugfuck as they stare at empty teller windows and their watches? Yes, they want to know what I want to know, which is how you can justify offering credit card services to illegal fucking immigrants when you can’t even meet the needs of the customers you have right now.
HOW. THE. FUCKING. FUCK. CAN. YOU. JUSTIFY. THAT?
Ten windows, two tellers. Shitbag bank you better unfuck yourself PRONTO.
Good lord, OpenOffice sucks! Yes, you stupid program, I do need to have two databases and two word files open at the same time. No, I do not want you to resize the database windows every time I open them. No, I do NOT want you to crash all four files every time I try to close ONE. God, I hate you. I can’t wait until my new copy of MS Office arrives.
I never thought I’d say that. OpenOffice has shown me the error of my ways. I will KISS MS Office next time I see it.
Dear My Uterus’s Monthly Temper Tantrum:
I don’t know what else I can do to please you. I’ve taken an Aleve. I’ve used the heating pad. I’ve been on hormonal birth control for the last seven months in an effort to calm your pissy, passive-aggressive temper. And you, my dear, are still being an utter bitch, making it feel like I’m permanently stuck in a pair of size -46 pants with a matching leather belt. If you were a person, you’d be the whining, snivelling toddler that’s throwing a hissy-fit in the grocery cart down the aisle. If you don’t decide to shut your trap soon, I may very well just do it myself with a piece of duct tape, and shoot you with a tranquilizer dart for good measure.
Have a good evening, dearest!
I get it. Yup, I also heard God dies in the last book. They didn’t ask to read the series, but if they did, yeah I’d get it for them. No, no really, my boys didn’t see the movie hoping to see a bloodied God. Now that you mention it, does God bleed? Really, they just thought a pet polar bear, in armor no less, was freaking cool as shit. Plus I think the Boy#3 has a thing for the little girl, yeah the stupid harlot whose parents will roast in hell and who won’t ever work again, but I could be wrong - it could just be because she’s got a pet polar bear.
Here, let me adjust that pulpit for ya. Now fuck off.
I watched BSG Razor last night. Now, I am not the world’s pickiest film critic. I liked Showgirls, for crying out loud. If it’s sci-fi, I’ll watch it. But by the time that stinking steaming shitfest ended, I was seriously pissed off. PISSED OFF.
Spoiler alert - sort of.
BSG writers, was that seriously the best you could do? Really? The biggest fucking cliche in the book? The BIGGEST CLICHE ever!?!?! I couldn’t bring myself to believe it at first, but then it became obvious. The most interesting person in the show must atone for their sins by staying behind and detonating the bomb manually! What a sacrifice! I’ve never seen that before! Oh no, wait, I have, about a million times before. God that movie sucked ass so hard I now have hemorrhoids.