I doesn’t matter if the document is perfect - sign it now or lose your expensive hospital computer system. You SAY patient care is the most important thing. Well it’s WAY FUCKING MORE IMPORTANT THAN HOW MANY SPACES END A SENTENCE!! Og, I wish I was joking.
I am NOT your assistant, or yours or yours or yours either. The fact that my office is on the first floor and you all are up on two naturally means that stuff often gets to me first, but when I call and tell you that you have a visitor or a package or a flood or whatever please don’t tell me how to handle it-come down here and handle it yourself. I have my own job and my own bigass stack of work to do.
And another thing-if one more person says “sure, I could do that, send me an email to remind me” I am going postal because I am not your to-do list or your calendar or your alarm clock either.
“Stop talking to your son like he’s a baby, stop kissing him like that, stop cuddling in bed with him. He’s eighteen years old, it’s fucking CREEPY!”
In a library once, in a small town, I tried to read something-or-other while three senior ladies, including the librarian held an on-going chat-fest, and not in library-worthy whispers either.
After a while, I approached them, and said, in my best library-worthy whisper, Excuse me, ladies, but we keep our voices down in the library.
OOOOOHHHH! The dirty looks they gave me! (Made me so proud of myself!)
Anyway, they hushed up. Mission accomplished.
A long list of commands come to mind.
“Stop valuing inane and pointless fluff you picked up from the television”
“Stop your ardent moralising and recognise your way of doing things is inefficient and fundamentally flawed”
“Stop acting and dressing and thinking like your friends and get some fucking originality”
To the woman in the next cube “Wow, where can I get a job that will pay me to gossip for half the day?”
To my bosses on my project “Quit looking to pin blame on me for not getting things done when I am not allow to work overtime and your cohorts keep bringing down the system I am supposed to be working in.”
To an acquaintance who thinks he is being clever, “You always have such a keen grasp of the obvious.”
He’s not suddenly a wonderful person because he’s dead.
Gladiator sandals: They are totally unflattering on anyone - take them off now.
Shut up and get out of my way you ignorant fool, if you won’t discipline that brat, then I will.
You are without a doubt the worst thing that has happened to this company in 201 years, you warthog-faced buffoon!
Google it, you lazy idiot! You have literally a whole world of information literally at your fingertips and you literally WON’T LIFT ONE FINGER TO LOOK FOR IT!
Learn proper English and spelling! Or don’t you mind being functionally illiterate?
Get your nose out of your “smart” phone and pay attention to the people right in front of you, you self-absorbed jerk!
DON’T LEAVE YOUR SHOPPING CART RIGHT NEXT TO THE COLUMN, THE NARROWEST PART OF THE AISLE!
Stop quoting from TVTropes.
Hey, I may actually say that the next time.
To my papa, my SO, to 3 friends and several acquaintances:
Please stop being depressed. Just stop it. Be happy. Be productive. You are wrong, life is pretty nice.
Disclaimer: I will never ever say this. All the other stuf about how annoying people are I’ll probably say at some point. I also want to say “PUT IT IN THE FUCKING DISHWASHER YOU FUCKING WORTHLESS MORONS!” and I probably will soon.
You’re not as good a performer as you think you are, and if you keep asking only for compliments, instead of criticism, you won’t get any better. You also already have a reputation as difficult to work with; didn’t you wonder why everyone dropped out of helping run the event in January, once you took over? This is not everyone else being horrible, it’s simply the natural reaction to the way you’ve been treating people, and the way you make it all about you. If you don’t sort out at least one of these problems soon, I really can’t see your performance career working out. You are also likely to lose more friends, though you seem to have stopped caring about that.
I wish I could say this to you, but the chances of it being in any way listened to are roughly that of me being concussed by an eagle-dropped tortoise on the way to the post office.
“Le renard brun rapide a sauté par-dessus le chien paresseux.”
I’ve been dying to say that … but I don’t speak French.
Think, dammit! I am not your external brain. You are fully capable of thinking through things, if you would just try.
I want to talk with you, not listen to your advice. Is it impossible for you to talk without starting every damn sentence with “well, what I would do…”?
“How can you decide to put money for your printing into a vending machine that is (a) behind you, (b) five feet away, and © labeled COPIES in 6-inch high letters* instead of the one that is (a) beside you and (b) 6 inches away?”
*Not an exaggeration.
Hey, don’t you talk about the goddess Athena that way.
“Your baby terrifies me, and the idea of having one terrifies me further still.”
You, Angry Drunk; chill out or fuck off, I don’t care which.
Same for you, loud, sweary and clumsy drunks. Most of us can manage to drink without losing all social skills, we are really not impressed with how much you have drunk or how fucked up you are now.
Dear Friend,
I am so sorry to tell you this, but your mother is dying. She’s been dying for the past several days. Your doctors have told you that she is dying, that her bodily functions are shutting down one by one, that she is not a candidate for a transplant, and that it’s time to make end of life decisions. Your desperation to have her transferred to another hospital even though the best one in the state just denied your request because THERE’S NOTHING THAT CAN BE DONE is just prolonging the inevitable. I know you are young, and you love your Mom. But it’s time to make your peace and end her suffering.
For those following the horrific trial going on in Southern Ontario right now:
Did nobody ever teach little Tori Stafford to NOT TALK TO STRANGERS? Or NEVER GO ANYWHERE WITH A STRANGER? Or better still, NEVER GO TO A VEHICLE WITH A STRANGER? Or how to even open a car door and RUN LIKE HELL?
Ever since I could walk my parents taught me to never, ever, ever go anywhere with a stranger. There is no puppy. There is no candy. THEY WANT TO HURT YOU. Do they not teach basic safety rules in schools anymore? Why the fuck did she go with that psychobitch? Why didn’t she, at one of the many stops they made, at least attempt to open the car door and get the hell away or attract attention? That kid was 8 years old and nobody taught her basic personal safety?
(Before anybody flames me for “blaming the victim”, I don’t mean for it to sound that way. I’m just incredulous that from the testimony of that - there isn’t an evil enough word to describe her - “woman” it seems like little Tori just obliviously toddled off with a complete stranger straight to her own torture and death. Did nobody ever “streetproof” her? What the hell?!!)
Now, as for that…“woman” and her …again, no word evil enough…“boyfriend”, may their story be seen by as many inmates as possible in their respective facilities and may true justice prevail, if you catch my drift.