ONE. To the fucker that threw a rock through the window on Halloween and took out my sister’s left eye. Yeah, it was over a decade ago, I’m still pissed. Why the fuck would you do that? We gave your sorry asses candy.
TWO. I slipped and hurt my foot. My pain tolerance is crazy high, but I think I started to go into shock it hurt so fucking bad. It still hurts. There’s a giant blood blister or something. Fuck you, puddle.
THREE. How can I whine about my fucking foot when there’s a war on? Talk about being part of the problem. Fuck you, me. Fuck you, war.
FOUR. “I could sell a mill’ sayin’ nothin on the track”. This is the worst boast ever. It pisses me off more every time I hear it. It is the epitome of everything wrong with commercial hiphop at this moment in time. I hate you for thinking it, let alone writing it down and spitting it on tape.
FIVE. Read the fucking magazine before you submit to it. I know you didn’t. You didn’t even read the submission guidelines, let alone the magazine. I know this because it’s 2000 words over the limit and contains several specifically forbidden elements. I know this because your story indicates strongly to me that if you had read the magazine, you would be horrified at the thought of ever having your name associated with such filth. If your idea of horror is “and then screams pierced the night”, STOP FUCKING WRITING.
Put your Damn recycling bins in your house, garage or shed!
Not out beside your house, on your porch etc. Those thing you throw in still smell of food to animals. There are skunks up beside my open windows (pardon me for not having central air) because of your bins.
I find boxes from frozen entrees on my lawn, chewed up by animals all the freaking time.
And, yes I know it’s pointless as I’m in the minority but it still irks me.
Cyclists: if you are truly incapable of riding on the correct side of the street, get on the goddamn sidewalk so I don’t have to swerve into traffic or into the curb to dodge your sorry asses. Or better yet, just ride down the center line and get it the fuck over with.
And in connection with the IMHO thread about bike helmets, none of the people I encounter doing this are wearing helmets. Zero. Many of them also don’t have lights. Several I’ve seen, however, have their toddlers in front-mounted child seats. Protein-based airbags, perhaps?
My ass is killing me, has for two days now. I feel asleep at my desk at home and slept oddly slumped, and when I woke up my whole backside was numb. Now it’s not numb just sore.
John Humphrys: you are the most irritating anchor in the British media. I’m all for hard-hitting interviewing a la Paxman, but Paxman actually deals with the issues. You, however, play facile semantic games worthy only of a lower-sixth debating society, misquoting and niggling people pointlessly. And you sound smug.
Interviewee: “We’re satisfied with much of the performance of our department, however, we admit-”
JH: “Satisfied. ‘SATISFIED’?! Tell us how ‘SATISFIED’ you are.”
Interviewee: “As I said, the department has performed well, but there are some issues-”
JH: “OOOOOOOh. I thought you were talking about how ‘PLEASED’ you were with a department that has made several huge, very public mistakes!”
Interviewee: “I said that I was satisfied with-”
JH: “PLEASED with a department that has a shortfall of seven million pounds?”
Interviewee: “That’s not what I said-”
JH: “Thank you very much. Now the news.”
It doesn’t tell us anything. All it has shown us is that you’re juvenile and agressive, trying to score points rather than getting to the nub of the issues.
I swear, you could interview Fred Phelps and I’d end up on Phelps’s side.
This morning my wife asked me if I could drive her to the BBC studios in Shepherd’s Bush so she could slap him.
Fuck you, companies that hire people from a country to another and provide help only for the easy stuff. I know how to find a hotel: finding a doctor when you don’t know the language or how the medical system works is a total bitch, though.
Fuck you, companies that reward presence over performance.
Fuck you, boss who’s refused any requests for help but who has the balones to tell me I should ask for help.
Fuck you, kiosk “lady” who was speaking in French with your friend and then forgot your French when I asked you for several tram tickets (while your friend, completely beffudled, kept asking “but why don’t you just give her the tickets? You know perfectly well she’s asking for three tram tickets! What is your problem?”). I realize my tram tickets don’t make or break your back, but they’re going to be bought elsewhere.
Fuck you, people who use your strollers as shields.
There, now I can go and look busy some more until lunchtime.
Woah, stop here. Permanently? Did you catch the little fucks? Did you beat them to within an inch of their pathetic little lives? Are they in prison all these years later?
And now my own: Fuck off, stupid genetics. Please explain to me how male pattern baldness fits in with the whole Darwinist thing. 'Cause it sure ain’t helping me perpetuate the species. And if evolution is wrong and the creationists are right, then fuck you, God. You’re an asshole.
Fuck you, sinus infection. You make me miserable, rob me of sleep and fill my respiratory system with phlegm. Of course, that wouldn’t be so bad if I didn’t have to sing tomorrow, a good Saturday night gig where we’re giving out cds and everything. I don’t want to sound like a squeaky voiced pubescent or have big gobs of plegm coming out at inopportune moments. Goddamnit. :mad:
At the risk of ruining a perfectly good rant, male pattern baldness is a side effect of high testosterone, which is directly responsible for perpetuating the species. In essence, you’re too sexy for your hair.
My fifteen year old stepdaughter just recieved a car from her mother. It’s much nicer than mine. I personally don’t care about that at all, but it hurts me that this kid has so very much in the way of material possessions and my daughter (the same age) has so little.
Just by virtue of these girls being the same age, quasi-related, and going to the same school, they will always be compared to each other, and my daughter comes off worst every time. The stepsister sometimes tells my kid that she feels sorry for her.
I know this is petty and shallow, but it’s really darkened my outlook on life recently. To my daughter’s credit, it doesn’t seem to bother her nearly as much.
However, be aware that having hair =! low testosterone. I have a lot of hair on my head, but my testosterone’s high, too. Maybe they’re staging a death match and my hair’s bravely holding out.
pats tdn’s head
I would like to second and third the rant about turn signals! God almighty, I am getting so tired of trying to read these idiots’ minds.
Also, construction. Hurry up and finish whatever the fuck you’re doing! It takes me forever to get home because you’ve torn up every road on my path.
And since I can say it here - Damn you, SO’s brother & SIL for making every topic of conversation that new baby, for already spoiling it rotten - I thought you weren’t going to? When she’s 15 you’ll wonder what went wrong.
Right baby toe: what the hell are you good for, anyway? All you ever do is get stubbed on things and hurt. I whacked you into the couch leg this morning and now you’re turning black.
Of course that’s completely your fault and not mine. Curse you, right baby toe!
Cool! Now if you could just convince all the women in my state of that fact, and convince them that I’m not in fact a repulsive troll, then we’ll be all set.
Cute women have been flirtatious with me all morning today. I’m convinced it’s the hat.
Well if you want to get all Darwin-y on the idea, if your genetics are stopping you breeding, they’re telling you something.
And FFS people put a dam shirt on. The sun is a reason to cover up, not strip off. I bet when you get cancer you’ll want my taxes to pay your mortgage! Dam you!
I am glad this is here; I am pissed off at the idiot with his whole family in the car that slowed down to 60 in the “Fast Lane” to answer his stupid effing cell phone. BTW: This was on a 4 lane highway.
Don’t worry about the fact that the lane was moving 75 mph and is marked for 65 mph. Just go ahead an answer the phone and slow down to below the speed limit and yak away and put your family at greater risk.
Then you actually had the nerve to look pissed that I was honking at you. I feel sorry for your kids, being raised by such an idiot. Next time either don’t answer the phone, get into the slow lane first or pull over. BTW: It is illegal to use your cell phone in a moving vehicle in NJ without a hands free device.
