Stop it.

I went to the Animal shelter with my dogs’ rabies tags to get them their licenses. I asked the employee (who was wearing an animal control uniform) What I could do about a cat (I didn’t know which cat it was at the time) crapping on my front porch. She went into the storage room, came out with a trap. The kind of trap sold in pet product catalogs as “stray cat rescue kits”. I asked her “is this legal?”. She replies “As long as it’s on your property”. So I have it from an animal control officer. Not a judge, attorney or even a real cop, But at least someone who specializes in the field and has represented my county as such for several years. As for killing the animal, If my cat (OK, my wife’s cat) came up missing, you better believe that I would get my ass down to the pound within 3 days. And here’s the beauty part: the first time an animal is brought to the shelter, it costs the owner of said animal $30.00 to obtain it’s release. The second time in a one-year period it’s $60.00, the third time $90.00. The fourth time the same animal gets brought to the pound, forget about it, Fluffy’s not going home with you. If the neighbors keep catching your pet on their property, you’re habitually breaking the laws designed to protect it and their pets & property.

As for my username, I chose it when the whole pit bull discussion was going on because I have one. And a Rottweiler. And they never leave the yard unleashed.

Just in case I didn’t make it clear enough, I did not “kidnap and kill” the offending animal. I caught it tresspassing, made a citizens’arrest and turned it over to the authorities.
And Zette, I relate to the whole “when are you two gonna start squirting out a litter” thing.

Can we get back to pissing & moaning & ranting & bitching??

This one’s to people I know IRL: stop asking me for legal advice. Yes, I’m a law student, but I’m not licensed. That means that, if I give you advice and your situation turns out badly, I wind up in a world of shit. I also don’t know all the answers off the top of my head, so don’t get pissy that I don’t know the minute details of Texas landlord-tenant law. And finally, when I DO get licensed to practice, my advice ain’t gonna be free. I paid through the nose for the education, and damned if I’m gonna hand it out to every yahoo I know. So just stop it.

TURN DOWN YOUR FUCKING COMPUTER!!! I know it may come as a surprise to you that I don’t enjoy listening to the 2 minute long, ding-dongy melody it plays every single rat-fucking time it goes on or off. Also, if it is 11:30pm and I am in my bed, with my eyes closed, it means I am trying to fucking SLEEP!! It does NOT mean you should have a loud hour-long conversation with one of your idjit friends!!!
and STOP GROANING LIKE SOMEONE’S TRYING TO KILL YOU EVERY DAMN TIME YOUR ALARM GOES OFF IN THE MORNING!!! I don’t give a fuck if you go to class. In fact, nobody does. If you don’t want to get up, DON’T GET UP! Just don’t wake me up 20 minutes before I have to be up with your 10 decibel mooing. Fucking stupid bitch.

jack@ss, thanks for explaining… it seems that I DID misinterpret what you said a bit, so as I promised earlier, here’s my public apology: Sorry for jumping all over you last night!

Astroboy vows to go forth and sin no more…

No problem, Astroboy. After rereading my first post on this thread, I understand how anyone could come to the same conclusion. I love my dogs as family, too.

You know, I don’t much like kids, but since you’ve got one upstairs in a one-bedroom, I’ll be damned if I’m gonna tell him to sit still. So he can run around at all hours as much as he wants. And if he’s out playing and he’s too young to have a key to get into the horseshit locked front door, fine, block it open. Maybe I’ll even get lucky and have that Fedex package delivered for once.

But the Spanish-speaking televangelist that comes on at seven the fuck a.m. on Sunday mornings and must be broadcast at a volume such that I can hear it in my booze-addled sleep? That’s taking it a little too far, don’t you think? You failed to get my message last weekend when I cranked the Butthole Surfers up in response. That’s unfortunate, because the next time I wake up to the money-grubbing fulminations of Roberto Tiltone, I’m gonna pay you a visit. And I won’t be asking to borrow a cup of esugar.

You dumb ass stupid shit pile of Steve Job’s metal defecations, STOP FUCKING CRASHING EVERY FIVE MINUTES!!! I don’t understand why the fuck assholes the world over rave about your pussyassed G4 processor. YOU SUCK!!!. If this software ran on a PC, you’d be out the door in less than two cycles of your vaunted CPU. FUCK YOU MACINTOSH!!!

You’re just trying to turn this into another 6-page thread, aren’t you? :smiley:


You’re being a tad conservative, aren’t you, Jay?

You morons with the screaming, running, hairpulling nest of yard-apes. Yes, you. Walking ads for birth control. We at this restaurant are trying to eat. Yes, eat. We did not sign up for babysitting duty, and as far as I know I’m not being paid for it. I’m spending my hard-earned money on going out with my friends to enjoy their company and eat something that I did not cook, for once. So why the fuck can you not keep your damned fucking litter in their chairs and quiet? Why the hell is your child standing by my table? Is he begging for food? Why are the others crawling all over your table and screaming? When I was a child, I fucking well sat in my chair and ate, and if I didn’t want to eat I sat in my chair and shut the fuck up, because I knew better. And, and this is the part that really gets my panties in a wad, when your fucking brats run amok all over the restaurant, it is not cute! It is not something to laugh indulgently over! It is unsafe, for one thing, and they’ll never fucking learn to behave if you don’t start teaching them to NOW. Not to mention, did you not catch the glare I tossed you? How about the really loud comments about other people’s misbehaving children? Not to mention, why the hell are there ten kids and two of you? Are these all yours? Surely not, since they seem to be universally five or eight, four of each, except for the one baby who’s always CRAWLING ON THE FLOOR. Do you rent them? If they are yours, how the hell do you stand being in a house with all these misbehaving ill-mannered children? And do you just not give a shit about me and my friends, for whom the meal is ruined because you never learned common courtesy? I pity your damned kids, because how the hell are they ever going to get a decent start in life like this? One day they’re going to be old enough to be taken down a notch, and damn it I can’t wait for them run screaming over a restaurant at age 18 and get thrown out. Hopefully also beaten and tossed into a dumpster.

Well, it was my WAG for the maximum pages per thread. I’m probably wrong…it’s happened before. :slight_smile:


Fuck you. Stop humiliating me in front of everyone we know. You know you wore me down years ago and now I exist in this fugue state of loathing and contempt. I may let it simmer inside until the bile makes me insane,and I may scream at the kids a bit more than I used to. But, I at least have a real and honest relationship with the kids. They’re not just more students to me, they are my KIDS. ( and, Zette, they’re adopted so triple FUCK OFF to those people who asked you when you’re going to spawn. Fucking noseybody assholes). I kiss them. I talk to them. I tell them mildly dirty jokes since they’re only 11 and 9. I let them stomp around in the rain until they’re soaked and filthy. I let them live. YOU, you stifling controlling meanspirited mother-figure, stop re-living and reforming your childhood by making them be everything you could not be at their age. You’re destroying the best parts of my kids.

Stop scoring points off of me with everything you do. Stop needing to win. You demean me with every word and gesture. My lack of respect for you is only one of the reasons I went outside of our cold tattered sham of a marriage to find love and companionship. You fucking useless dysfunctional slab of angry sullen twisted flesh. Fuck you.

Fuck you bitch who left your car blocking one of the THREE handicap spots in the whole fucking parking lot by the science building this morning when I was going to class. You know, some of us actually NEED those spaces. They are not there just to make liberal do-gooders happy. Some of us can’t haul our asses across the entire fucking campus. But I know for a fact that YOU can because YOU do not have such a pass. Start walking, bitch.

This time, I left a note on your car. Next time, I’m going to get you towed. I can do that.

Fuck you, assholes that come to the pharmacy to ask me if potato chips are on sale. Do you see my title sitting on the wall? Does it “pharmacy technician?” If you want a prescrition, you ask me. If you want chips you ask someone else. And fuck you, fartknocker daytime techs that leave all the work for me at night. No, I don’t go to school all day, no, I’m not tired, no, I don’t mind doing your job. A big hearty fuck you to the company for which I work. Minimum wage? Fine by me. 'S not like I have to eat or anything… Fuck you, guidance counselor that gave me all the shitty classes for senior year. Thanks. Word processing will really come in handy when I’m studying chemistry and computer science. STOP telling me that you can get higher than I did on the SA-fucking-Ts. If you could have, you would have, ignorant little supercilious pantywaist! Fuck you, computer people who think that you know everything in the whole world and anyone who doesn’t know what a/an [insert obscure term here] is doesn’t deserve to breathe the same air. And YOU, stop ignoring me sometimes. I listen to your stupid shit all the time. Because I care. And I never even hear a bloody “How was class?” from you.

Oh, yeah, and a big-hearty FUCK YOU to macintosh. Man, do iMacs suck!

stop fucking lying to me. i know youre not telling the truth. its so fucking pointless, i dont understand you. youre just digging yourself deeper, you know? you cant face the anger that is welling up inside of me, rightfully so, so you avoid me. you fucking pussy, you cant stand confrontation. youre upset, asshole? im the one whos been lied to. im the one you wont talk to. im tired of trying to figure you out. im sorry you ran out of your fucking meds, but thats just a copout, and you know it. what are they, anti-asshole drugs? i doubt it. you have never been like this before, and im not into your crazy-ass mood swings and inconsistent stories that i know are not true. you think you can make it all better by pretending its not there. but you cant, and i dont want you if thats the way its going to be. you cant fucking run away from things. especially things as small s this.

and i wouldnt be half as upset if you had simply come to me and told me what was going on. i would have been so fucking sympathetic to your situation. but youre a pussy, you couldnt handle it if i were mad. well, i am mad, and more than i would have been if you werent so fucking retarded about the whole thing.

so stop calling me to talk, but not about that. stop giving me idiotic excuses like ‘its not within my mental capacity right now’. my ass. you know what? i dont think considering other peoples feelings is within your mental capacity. and neither is thinking about the effects of your stupid lies, because you obviously never thought that you could lose your best friend over it.

let me give you a small piece of advice, dearie. dont make stupid shit up. and dont think that those who are close to you wont figure it out. you insult me by assuming that i am that stupid.

and one more thing. dont fucking call me until youre ready to be a real friend. because right now, you are nothing to me but a boy who has done more to hurt me than anthing else.

I can handle my own fucking studies and run my own fucking life. You don’t need to tell me everyday to work harder and to get back to work and to fucking stop slacking off. I work fucking harder than you did when you were my age, and I’m fucking smarter than you were. I don’t ask you about your fucking school work because it’s fucking your business, not mine.

Stop telling me to be nicer to people and to fucking smile. I smile when I’m genuinely happy and for no other fucking reason. I’m not going to fake it.

Stop your fucking arrogant talking. You’re not the best. In fact, you’re a fucking moron. Fuck you.

I love talking to you, but not when you’re fucking distracted. I work for hours every night on math and science and whatever other homework there is, and then I call you to relax and to just generally speak to you. I don’t want to have to repeat myself every minute because you’re too engrossed in your game. I take the time to stop doing whatever I’m doing whenever you call, and I’d like to see that courtesy from you. It’s even worse when you call me and you don’t pay any attention.

Stop chewing with your fucking mouths open. You look like fucking animals. What makes you think I want to see your mashed up food dripping with your saliva while I’m eating across the table?

Don’t have conversations in fucking doorways.


Stop making that hideous shucking snorting sound after your bursts of forced aren’t-I-funny laughter.

Stop putting on that prissy voice. It isn’t funny to anyone in the whole wide world but you.

Stop using the phrase ‘a tad’. It does not make you the Wit-King of Great Britain and Northern Ireland.

Stop overreacting when someone says “Thanks, Captain Obvious” after your lastest mass email of the blistering obvious. Stop to consider that since you are almost always the last to catch on, you might like to curb your desire to broadcast your belated leap from ignorance to knowledge. Listen to Cousin Tansu: YOU ARE NOT MAKING YOURSELF LOOK VERY CLEVER.

Stop getting a hair across your ass over the SMALL shit in life. Oh no, I need to put the dishes away? Oh, I understand, a nuclear winter will occur if they aren’t put away right now. No, you fucking lazy asshole, it can WAIT! What if I started drinking, smoking, and doing some hard drugs every single day and I started failing out of school, got into a hideous car accident, and died? Would the dishes matter then? No, I don’t think so, you fuckwad.

Stop the interested conversations and looks and physical flirting if you’re just going to fuck me over and ignore me. I asked you to the prom and you said maybe, and when I finally asked you for a final answer three days before tickets went on sale, you told me you were going with someone else? Stop with the fucking standoffish attitude, bitch.

Stop acting like that. No, you’re not a “goth” - you’re a fucking normal teenager. The only reason you act this way and listen to the music you do is because of the school you go to, filled with assholes and their brothers. You always have a smart answer for everything, yet you fail in school. The fuck is up with that?

Stop fucking asking me who I’m taking to the prom. Did you not hear me say “That’s none of your business” the first 37 times? If I wanted to tell you, I would. No, she’s not an ogre. Yes, she’s attractive. No, I will NOT tell you, dick.

Stop teasing me over the clothes I wear. Yes, I know I only wear hawaiian shirts. Yes, I know they’re bright. Yes, I am aware that it’s stereotypical that the only people who wear such shirts are either party animals, or gay. I am neither. Go fuck yourself.

Stop making comments. Yes, I know I’m a big kid. No, I’m not fat. Yes, I know I have the largest and most muscular legs you’ve ever seen. Yes, I know I wear large clothes. Yes, I know I’m strong. So stop fucking pointing these out every single fucking time you see me. And that goes to ALL of you!

Stop egging me on to cause physical violence whenever someone’s giving me shit. No, I don’t like to hit people. Why? Because then it makes it look like I’m the one being the bully. Does this make me an easy target because people know I won’t fight back? Maybe. But I know I can hurt people just as easily with my wit, and that’s the weapon I choose to use, not my fists. Fuck you very much.

Not exactly how I imagined Dark Lord Davidson dressed. :smiley: