Oooh yes, I hate it when people don’t realize what an ugly, insulting word “skinny” is. Ugh.
The rudest stranger I’ve ever encountered was the homeless lady who asked me for money, and when I told her I didn’t have any, yelled, “How’s your sex life?” (It should be noted that I was a particularly gawky and unattractive teenager at the time.) Ouch.
Couple of rude things…
I was out at the movies with my friend Matt who had just gotten back from deployment on the U.S.S. John C Stenace. He was dressed in his whites and we were standing in line for popcorn and such. Out of no where this 16 year old punk chick wearing a U.S. Army issue field jacket comes up to him and asks him how he “likes being a baby killer”. He and I just stared at each other. Guess the militarys good enough to make cloths but not good enough to respect.
I was standing in line at a convention with a friend of mines wife and kid. Kat looks pretty young even though she 24 and been married for 5 years. This gal walks up to her and says “Even the babies are having babies now.” I thought that was pretty rude.
Hillbilly Queen said:
>Skinny people get rude comments too. When I was about 19 I weighed a whopping 93 lbs. at 5’6". This was way before skinny was popular. I wasn’t trying to be skinny, I just couldn’t gain weight. Some of the comments I received:
Thank you!
I’m 22, 5’0" and about 94lbs. I can’t eat lunch at my office because every time I have, some of my female coworkers gather round me and announce, “Look! She’s eating!”
Also, I have a large tattoo on my upper arm. It is quite visible whether I wear a sleeveless shirt or just a short-sleeve shirt. While in the grocery store, the clerk saw the bottom half of my tattoo sticking out from under my sleeve. He asked to see the rest of it, and I obliged (this happens a lot, not a big deal to me). After I showed him, he said, “And you did that on purpose?”
Argh!
My cousin in Chicago asked me to be an usher in his wedding, so I flew in from L.A. to take part. At the rehearsal dinner, I was sitting across the table from some distant relations-- I think they were my cousins’ cousins on the other side. These people had flown in from Seattle. When I mentioned I was from L.A., this woman says to me, “Los Angeles really just has nothing good about it, does it?”.
I think I said something like, “Well I would really hesitate to make such a sweeping generalization”, but wish I’d thought of something more stinging.
It was a week before Christmas and I was dropping off a truckload of stuff at the local Salvation Army. They have a large, oversized door in the alley at the rear of the building that opens up directly into the back of the facility where they store everything. There are a number of stores on the same block and many of them have small parking lots for employees/owners that open up onto the alley as well.
Anyways, I pull up to the back door and am effectively blocking off one end of the alley. Mind you, this is a really small town and the alley is only about 300 feet long and open at both ends. As soon as I get out and start to unload the truck, I see an older woman pull out of one of the small parking lots. Rather than drive out of the other end of the alley, she turns in my direction and pulls up directly in front of my truck. She then starts honking! I walk over to her car where she opens the window and starts to berate me for blocking the alley and insisting that I move NOW. I couldn’t believe it, and in a moment of weakness, I looked at her and smiled and said “Merry f*cking Christmas to you too.” She rolled up her window and began honking again until I backed out of the alley and she could drive past.
What a bitch.
this happened while my partner and i were in cairo, generally doing the whole tourist thing, but making a point of trying to get off the beaten track sometimes too.
during one of these detours we were both talking to a local, when out of the blue he turned to my male partner and said " your girlfriend is very pretty how often do you f**k her? does she allow the anal sex?"
apart from that mostly the only rude comments ive had to put up with have come from a crazy old bat who frequents my work place, her latest gem was to come up to me and tell me she hoped my parents died painfully. nutter.
It’s possible she thought she was being funny. This is something I might say, not realizing it could be construed as an insult. Of course, if she wasn’t smiling and otherwise looked upset that you were staring at her baby, that’s another story.
I can’t recall any instance of a stranger being too memorably rude to me, but my grandmother-in-law will comment on my husband’s weight within the first five minutes of seeing him, even though we only visit twice a year.
I once passed by some weird woman while on my way to visit Angie. Weird woman made some rude remark concerning my size and that I’m “funny looking.” I simply told her, “I know.”
Shouldv’e added, “I talk funny, too.”
Recently a coworker (who has since been fired) said a multitude of rude things on her first or second day on the job.
She maligned gay people and called another coworker (who was not there at the time) a “holy roller”.
It was also amusing that this hick (that’s what I call her) was eagerly telling me all about California (“I had a relative who went there, and she saw this, and she saw that…”) but when the hick found out that I was a native of California (and therefore had more “bragging rights”, I suppose) she said, “I’ve never been to California, and to be honest, I never want to go.”
Yeah, right, whatever. She only said that in hopes that it would offend me, but she was too transparent. I just smiled knowingly.
I would have said, “Well, L.A. didn’t produce you, so I guess that’s one damn good thing it has going for it.”
Then there was the jerk who yelled “Fred Flintstone with tits!” as he drove past Angie & me. God help me, I wanted to yell “Yabba dabba doo!” back at him but Angie probably would have killed me.
I tend to twirl my hair -unconsciously, usually, I don’t realize I’m doing it.
One customer once said, “Why do you do that?” And I laughed and said, “Oh, I didn’t realize-”
“Well, stop it! I think it’s weird! I’ll bet your manager would fire you!”
Yeah, well at least I HAVE hair, lardass. :mad:
Whoa, whoa. As any Giants fan knows, this is absolutely true. 
As for the rest of these responses, is it any wonder why folks who work in retail are so cranky?
I use a manual wheelchair, and on more than one occasion, complete strangers have made small talk with me for a grand total of…oh…7.3 seconds, then asked, “So what’s wrong with you?”. I once came back with, “You mean physically, right…? Or is it something else of which I’m unaware…?”. My biting sarcasm was lost on the hearer.
In other news…
When I asked my senior-year high school boyfriend whether I should get a dark blue or a dark green prom dress, he came back with, “Get something that accentuates your eyes - they’re your best non-boob feature”.
He was, of course, history from that day forth. Assmonkey. And no, I didn’t attend the prom after all - I don’t regret it, though.
In college, I was talking with this guy about a friend of mine who was having problems. The friend was being very difficult, but, as I told the guy, I was determined not to let it destroy our friendship, because I predicted a time when she would be glad I hadn’t let myself be alienated.
Guy says, “Well, I can see how it would be hard for you to make friends because of the way you look.”
WTF? His issue with me was that I wore “big thick glasses”. Now, this was 1989, and I thought my horn-rims were very cutting-edge. Maybe, maybe not, but I did wear dresses, makeup and the whole nine, and I can’t wear contacts anyway. But this guy wore aquarium glasses that were no thinner than mine, plus cultivating a big ol’ watermelon butt and thinking it made him sexy, and using Wildroot Creme Oil. In 1989.
Maybe not downright rude, but it definitely rubbed me the wrong way: I was talking with one of Mr. Rilch’s cow-orkers about a show I’d been on years earlier where I had to take a lot of guff from the production department. Another crew member (male, and I had specified that it was a guy) helped me out by making appointments for us with Dr. Green. Cow-orker interrupts me to ask, in a tone of profound bewilderment, “What is it about chicks and pot?” Hel-LO? Had I not said that I’d been smoking with a guy?! But I think cow-orker was just one of those guys who doesn’t understand women well enough to realize that not everything he doesn’t do is automatically a “chick thing”.
Crossing the street in Pittsburgh, 1992. Car slows down so passenger can call out “You f—in’ whore.” Not even in a hostile tone, but a conversational one, the same that he might have used to say “Hey babe,” or something vaguely complimentary.
Eighth grade, standing outside the school library, waiting for it to open up in the morning. Guy I barely knew said, “Hey, how you doon, Sardine? Ugly as ever?”
uh…
i’m drawing a blank here, i don’t really keep things like that in my brain, i have nicer things to think about…
but i have been kerb crawled once (that’ll teach me to wear my school uniform on leeson street at night…but it was hallowe’en!)
and been asked by one obviously drunk man if i was on the game… because “only hookers have tits that big”.
let’s just say i did my bit for fighting ignorance.
When I was a sweet young teenage girl I was waiting for a bus one time. Bus pulled up, doors open, I was standing at the bottom of the bus steps, and a scruffy-looking man getting off the bus spits in my face. No words, but pretty rude all the same.
My own sister saves her best rudeness for family. The very first words out of her mouth, I kid you not, when I visited her after Basic Training were: “I thought you’d lose more weight.” First words out of her mouth to Mom on one of Mom’s visit: “You got fat.”
irishgirl what’s kerb crawled, or do I want to know? 
During senior prom, I changed from my black floor-length number into a short blue dress that was more comfortable. When we went to Denny’s afterwards, I put on my date’s tuxedo jacket, which was about as long as my dress, since it was cold. These drunk middle age guys in the booth next to use started throwing dollar bills on our table and asking how much for a table dance. When I told them to go fuck themselves, they offered all the girls at our table Milk Bones.
That does remind me of something. I went down to Riverside to help my (male) friends get a futon for their apartment. So we went a town or two over (Oceanside?) and hit up the futon store in what seems to be the very Simpsonesque Futon District. We’re sitting around waiting for someone to show up. Someone does, saying, “Can I help you gentleman, and lady?” Me being the lady. Fortunately my long hair has had that effect on people before and so I assume it’s an honest mistake, especially since I was facing away from him. So no big deal at this point.
Next words out of his mouth, in this snooty tone- “Oh, sorry, but with that long hair, you look like a girl.” Gee thanks, assbulb.
He continues making snotty comments to me the rest of the time we’re there… most of which I can’t remember. He then, quite condescendingly hands me the pillows of the futon while I guess the short-haired menfolk do the heavy lifting. (God forbid his lazy a-- do some work.)
I would have told him a thing or two, but I try not to piss off people who’re about to make substantial monetary transcations with friends. And no, we didn’t want to go to another futon shop because us San Francisco boys can;t stand that desert heat for long, lest we melt.
Said to me once by a customer while I was filling in their paperwork, while pointing at my head and feet with an outstretched finger:
“Hehehehe… I bet you like to indulge in a bit of football hooliganism on your weekend off!”
:mad:
Thank you very much, arsehole. I shave my head because I’m too lazy to deal with hair in the mornings, and besides I just look better that way. And while Dr Martens boots aren’t traditionally worn with a shirt and tie, I wear them because they’re extremely comfortable when you’re on your feet all day long. Doesn’t necessarily mean I’m a granny-bashing fascist, you know?
Of course, at the time I could only stare at the guy incredulously.
I’m in my late 20s. I turn 29 in January. So I’m no longer in the teenage marketing demographic, but I’m not old enough to remember when paper was invented.
I usually avoid Victoria’s Secret, simply because, for whatever reason, their stuff rarely ever fits me properly. And when it does fit, it never, ever flatters. But one day, I walked by one of their stores when a sale was advertised. I thought I’d stop in and do a little browsing.
I found a rather nice and helpful salesgirl, who saw me go in and out of the dressing room several times with different articles of clothing. But after several rounds of try-it-on-and-take-it-off, I discovered that, once again, nothing fit.
As I was walking out of the store, the salesgirl said, “No luck?” I told her that nothing I liked had fit me. She looked me up and down and said, “Well…you might want to try a department store. They often have a wider selection of cuts of underthings, and they’re better for…<sneer and snide tone of voice> older women.”</sneer and snide tone of voice>