It could be even worse, if it was an uproariously funny way of dying and the abbeviated headline was “FAMOUS PERSON PASSES, GAS”
I think I speak for some of us when I say we need to hear the rest of this story. 
Stoopid cat - you have three litter boxes to choose from - why do you have to hang your butt over the edge of them and pee on the floor all the time? If they’re not big enough for you, how about using THE WHOLE FRIGGIN’ OUTDOORS? You have a cat-proofed back yard that I let you out in daily.
I was selling sex toys for about a year, one of those home party businesses. It was a lot of fun, really and truly. But I live in a small town & it got awkward when I’d run into people and couldn’t place them, “Is your kid in my kid’s class? Did I draw your portrait? Or were we recently talking about fellatio?” So I sold my demos and loaned the last remaining props to a younger gal just starting out in the biz. Only I need this one back for a bachelorette party I’m attending.
The two-headed dildo is hilarious, I used it at every party to play hot potato. Only instead of just handing it around the circle, they’d pinch it between their knees and pass it off that way. The visual sent everyone into gales of laughter. As Elaine said, “I don’t know how you men put up with these things.” 
So I get a text message today from someone I lent a CD to back in November. He said to let him know when I was free to meet up so he can return the CD to me. I told him that since I hadn’t heard from him since January, I told him I wrote it off as lost and that he could toss the CD in the trash. He asked what happened. I told him that since he didn’t respond to any of my messages since January, I had no reason to believe he would be reliable to deliver the CD (this after I stated in the past I’d just go ahead and pick it up rather than meeting half-way).
He then said it must’ve been a misunderstanding on both our parts.
Nah, it’s all you, foo.
I need for my period to start too, because it’s making me feel crappy.
And my eyelid is still twitchy and bothersome
It worked! Kid got flipped. It wasn’t much like the video I linked, though – it took two big beefy male doctors pushing with all their might, really getting their backs into it, and three tries; and the third try only worked because (apparently) the baby got fed up with being shoved around and flipped most of the way on his own. (The first two tries they were pushing clockwise, which is SOP, but the baby barely budged; they tried counterclockwise the third time more or less out of desperation. My kid is obviously ALREADY backwards.) I am pretty bruised up, both on the skin of my abdomen and (it feels like) on the internal organs that were so inconveniently around and underneath the baby during all the shoving, but happy.
Now… he better stay there.
I got up extra early to make a sign to use on our fan table at ConCarolinas. I was already tired and stressed out between work and classes, but then to get so close to finishing and have to leave it all on the floor was just damn upsetting.
Damn you, you glue stick, for not sticking!
STOP SCHEDULING CLIENT MEETINGS IN MY OFFICE WITHOUT ASKING ME FIRST. You’d been getting away with it since our conference room is usually open, but *this *time, the joke’s on you, idiot: it’s already booked all morning for a meeting and a call with a vendor.
Of course, this means that ***I ***now have to jump through a billion fucking hoops to find somewhere else for you to go, 'cause apparently you can’t just go talk to this woman over lunch. And despite the fact that it would take you *almost exactly *the same amount of time to drive back down to your next meeting in Illinois from the client’s office in New Berlin as from our office in downtown Milwaukee (GMaps gives a 5 minute difference on a two-hour drive), somehow you think that “wouldn’t work” with your “tight schedule.” :rolleyes:
ETA: This is, by the way, for a meeting on Monday morning. Yes, *this *Monday, June 7. Yes, this jerk’s AA just reached out to me less than two hours ago.
Hoorah!
I just started sobbing uncontrollably over images of wildlife covered in oil. I have worked with animals in some capacity all my life. I know how hopeless this situation is for them and there isn’t much we can do. For every animal we see covered in oil there are lots more who have died that we won’t see. Even most of those that are rescued will not survive or will suffer lasting damage that will shorten their lives. The oil is there, the damage has been done.
If you’re dumb enough to repost your friend’s ad for crappy backyard bred puppies on Facebook, be prepared to get shit for it. And when your friend gets all pissy about being called out on their asshattery, don’t say “it’s uncalled for” when you could just delete it.
FWIW, the parents are unregistered, unproven, untested, “special color” beagles … and of course they’re charging more for the fancier colored puppies.
That irritates the shit out of me, too. You make all kind of effort, he makes virtually none, and you both misunderstood? You misunderstood that he wasn’t a jerk when you lent him the cd, is how I see it. I’d be so, soooo tempted to send him an email back saying just what you said. Then the more mature side of my nature would say, don’t even bother.
Little girl, you’ve made it pretty clear for the last couple of years that you want nothing to do with us. And now you have a big bad problem. I’m feeling really, really uncharitable right now.
Dear dimwit: Today was almost the worst day of both our lives. If I hadn’t caught a glimpse of you just as you disappeared behind that construction dumpster, you would have been dead, and I would probably have been in jail. Luckily, I did see you and was able to stop before you emerged from behind it, still yapping on your cell phone and oblivious to the car sitting three feet from you. I know that Oregon law says cars MUST yield to pedestrians, particularly at street corners, but that doesn’t relieve you of the responsibility to FUCKING LOOK BEFORE WALKING OUT INTO THE FUCKING ROAD. If I had been distracted, or been looking the other way, or for any other number of reasons not seen you, it would have been a very sad day for both of us. Christ on a cracker.
Would you believe some prick almost ran over me while I was talking on my cell phone?
I hate pedes like that. Every winter I see people (usually kids) who just march right out on the street without looking when the streets are slippery with ice - yeah, cars are supposed to stop for pedestrians, but you have an obligation to make sure we actually CAN stop. I’m a pedestrian half the time and a driver the other half; I’m always snapping my head around to make sure cars see me and are stopping and able to stop; it’s my life and my health on the line.
What the fuck is it with people walking in the street and not ON the sidewalk?
They’ve probably been chased off the sidewalk by all the bicycles.
Or maybe following Google directions.
Our neighborhood is somewhat of a conduit for business traffic. When the main arterials become congested, people cut through the residential areas and most of them are in a big fuckin’ hurry. It’s suicidal to step out into a street without looking to see what is coming. I always drive very slowly in the 'hood, but it only takes a moment’s distraction to have a death on your hands. This is the closest I’ve come to stopping and having a heated conversation with someone. Driving is difficult enough without morons like this making it worse.
Damn Papa Johns. See i generally like your pizza. For a national chain it is miles above the rest. Little Ceasars, dominos and the other scraped off the floor crap. And Much better value than Pizza hut.So I end up defending your honor.
But god you are making it hard with this stupid crap commercials. “Create your own pizza” OHH so you mean I can tell you what toppings I want on my pizza, what size and what crust? what a fucking innovative idea. I mean no other pizza place have ever thought of that before. :rolleyes:
Dude, if you are going to claim to invent something, don’t claim to invent something that 99.999% were already doing hundreds of times a year before either of us were born.