Driver to the at-fault driver after a minor fender bender.
“Are you OK?”
(meaning),* “You fucking moron. Why don’t you watch were you are going! I am making four hundred dollars a month payment on this thing and no body shop is going to get it back to the way it was originally. Besides that, I think my fucking neck is beginning to hurt”*
At-fault driver. “Yeah I’m ok.”
(meaning) *Yeah, yeah, it might be my fault but your going to play hell proving it since there were no witnesses to this accident. Besides, you think I am going to sit by let my insurance premiums climb straight up my ass? *
Another example.
Clerk in clothing store. “Hello how are you? May I help you find something?”
(meaning) * Oh shit! You were just in here wednesday you fucking moron. Get the fuck out of here so I can focus on that hot bitch customer in lingere. *
Customer, " No thanks I am just browsing."
(Meaning) Why don’t you go back to folding clothes asshole and leave me alone. I’ve been shopping for 20 years all by myself and I don’t need your help. Would you have even spoken to me if you weren’t getting paid to??.
meaning: tell me what I want to hear as well as any concerns which you have that will not disgrace the family nor cause any undue stress and strain in my life.
Daughter: Fine.
meaning: well, I’m contemplating the fact that I lost my virginity last week… oh, yeah, I failed my last physics test, and for some reason half of my friends aren’t speaking to me.
Customer Service Representative: Hello, may I help you? My name is Bambi and your business is important to us. How can I help you?
Translation: I hate the inane bullshit they make me say, and I just hope it isn’t some trogoldyte with a problem this weasel company caused. I haven’t had my coffee and why can’t they rip the face offa some overpaid VP who could do something about the mess?
Customer: Thank you. The gizmo you sold me broke down the first time I used it, the electrical short singed the room and the credit card payment shows twice the amount owed.
Translation: I hate this run-around, Bambi can’t help, I haven’t had my coffee and I just wanna rip the face offa the suits who caused this mess.
Meaning: No it won’t - it will be horrid, even more horrid than you can imagine. It will be a long excruciating experience, but I will maintain my cheerful optimism in the face of disaster to the point of being annoyingly perky.
Me: I don’t know…
Meaning: Oh shit!! The Death Words! “it’ll be fun”! Ah-hahahahaha!! In a pig’s eye…how can I get out of this? How much do I love this person?
Other person: Oh, we’ll have a great time! Really.
*Meaning: Yes, we both know this is a ridiculous idea, but I’ve decided I want to try break dancing/bungee jumping/heroin - and I’m goiing to drag you along with me!
really means: “I’m at the party late because I had a big group come in for a late dinner at my table. I want to quit waitering but I haven’t had a part in 9 months and I don’t want to go back to Wisconsin. Help.”
“Proofread carefully!” You keep misspelling “sit” as “shit,” rendering your paper unintentionally obscene. I made copies and passed them around to everybody in the department at Happy Hour.
“When you’re writing an opposing-viewpoint essay, pay attention to your choice of words. Would a person in favor of third-world factories really use this terminology?” Only a complete freaking idiot would title his essay “Sweatshops are Good.”
“You need to do more research on evolution. Please ask someone in the biology department to help you rewrite this essay.” I’m an English teacher, for Christ’s sake, and I can tell your understanding of evolution is pathetic. This paper is a tissue of lies, illogic, and scientific “facts” that you apparently made up when you were drunk.
Crud, another grumpy person. Maybe if I make eye contact and smile, they will be civil.*
Them: “Fine, how are you?”
Me: “Oh, I can’t complain.”
No really, I can’t complain. But if I could, I’d tell you that my feet hurt, my voice is going, I am one snippy comment away from ripping a certain server’s (waitress for you non-PC types) head off, and the guy who is supposed to be helping me is so useless our manager sent him to roll silverware. *
Me: Is this table all right?
I know its too close to smoking, but if I sit you anywhere else you’re going to get crappy service because all the other servers are busy, and no one wants to sit here because of the smoke and the server for this section is a single mom who needs the money, so you’d better leave a good tip. *
Them: Is this non-smoking?
Why is it that hostesses are always so brainless? *
Me: Yes, it is.
Dammit!*
Me: Would you like a different table?
*Crap, now which server am I going to screw over. Think, quick, before they pick their own table and really screw things up. *
Them: How about that one over there by the window?
Witless bimbo. How hard is it to walk people over to a table? *
Me: That’ll be fine.
Argh! Not her section. If that @#$%& server even looks at me funny, I’m gonna quadruple-seat her all night long. *
Me: Y’all enjoy!
Maybe they won’t notice the table hasn’t been wiped off. *
Fretful, reminds me of a high school journalism competition: we were reading each others’ papers to compare our different angles on the story. One girl consistantly misspelled dam “damn”.