I don’t recall exactly, but it was spoken to my computer and included the words “fuck,” “piece of shit,” and “Jesus Christ!”.
I probably appear to cuss my computer at work almost daily, but it’s not really the computer on my desk that pisses me off, it’s the servers handling the networked databases we all use.
And the software. I cuss the software a lot. “Shut the fuck up, fucking Windows” when it interrupts my work to ask if I want to AutoArchive my old items now; that sort of thing.
“Now what, damn it?!”
Spoken with some small amount of heat to a Vitros ECi analyzer a little while ago.
(The instruments all plot against me, I just know it.)
I apologized to a proof I was working on when I made an error. It’a not even an inanimate object so much as a concept.
“FUCK!”
At my monitor after my third insta-death in a row during a round of Battlefield 2 earlier this evening.
Damn you, freeway exit! I should have taken you!
I called the pot of boiling water a sonuvabitch when I burned my finger on it about half an hour ago.
Yeah, my fault. So what? Not like I’m going to hurt its feelings, and it beats blaming myself for my own stupidity.
I call my work computer a slow-ass piece of fucking shit on a nightly basis.
On a more positive note, yesterday morning I mumbled to my bed. “Oh, good bed. Nice bed. I love you, my bed. You’re so good to me…” and so on and so forth until I fell asleep. I do that a lot.
I just called my alarm system “You fucking thing, you!” when it did it’s twice daily announcement that it’s still fucking there.
I called a mug of hot chocolate a son of a whore (after it had fallen off the counter and smashed).
“Here you are, politically incorrect toy…”
(Explanation: my dog has a chewtoy–a present from her doting but rather foolish grandmother–that is shaped exactly like a squat, round Eskimo squaw holding a fish. We’ve dubbed it the ‘politically incorrect toy’ because it’s too hilariously stereotypical for words.)
Hmm…
I think the last thing I’d said to an inanimate object today was cursing my copy of Magician’s Ward for hiding from in me in the pile of books in my bedroom.
Before that I was likely muttering at my stupid, moronic, piece of crap, free, make-do, computer. Because it’s a bloody dinosaur.
C’mon baby, you can do it. C’mon, C’mon…just a little more.
That’s it…good. Keep going…
Followed by a few choice expletives.
-My truck running out of gas at the top of the Hwy off ramp. Not 3 blocks from a gas station.
“THAT’S the stuff!”
Exclaimed while my showerhead sprayed a hot stream at the back of my neck this morning.
Does growling count? Because not five minutes ago I growled at a copy of the Bible, as I sit here on Saturday night writing a paper about Job.
Previously, I referred to my cell phone as a “miserable little plastic fucker” when it decided it no longer had a signal in the middle of a phone call.
Does watching Brett Favre throw 5 interceptions on a **television **count??
if so, something along the lines of “what the fuck are you doing?”, followed 5 minutes later by “where the hell are you throwing that?” followed 5 minutes later by “who the hell was that for?”…and so on.
He’ll make up for it today. 
“Stay!” To a 6" piece of trim with a 45 degree under cut I was using as a measuring device after I dropped it 12’ off my scissor lift. This is unfortunitely all too common an experience.
To the phone before I picked it up at work last night…
“This fucking guy again.”
And a few calls later…
“What the fuck with this guy?”
“I just told you that I don’t want one of your 'cookie cutter” combos!"
( … to the now “inanimate object” standing behind the counter at the local Wendy’s when he asked me if I wanted the large fries & drink … ) :rolleyes:
**Rewind: **
IO: Can I help You?
LiD: Double Cheese, everything, no pickle, no lettuce, and no, I don’t want a combo, just the sandwich, please.
IO: What size fries and drink would you like with that?
LiD: 
Last night I said “Make me!” in response to a TV ad exhorting me to “call now.”