I’m so sorry. I’ll have my mother stop sending you email. :smack:
And that’s my rant. Yeah, Mom, I’m looking at you. Stop with the stupid joke emails and the Angel Wish emails. I don’t even open them anymore, and when you call me and ask if I got it, don’t get all bent out of shape when I tell you I deleted it. I’ve asked you nicely, and now I’m pissed off. Stop sending the stupid shit!
I’ve Snopesed my brother-in-law multiple times (he sends out the glurgiest of the glurge that we’ve all known was false for years - I had his email blocked for years), and last week he sent me a bunch of very cool pictures of our Storm. I sent an email back to him, saying the pictures were very cool, and did he have a link for them online? He sent an email back asking me snottily if I wanted to Snopes them, too. Asshole. That guy is seriously getting on my nerves. Some people just shouldn’t be allowed online.
I want to rant at all the advertising assholes who insist on using Beethoven’s Ode To Joy to sell all sorts of crap. Now is it being used to sell Bruce Willis’s latest movie “Die Hard: Just Die Already!”.
*All men will become brothers
Under thy gentle wing.
*
Oh yeah, that sounds like the Die Hard sentiment. I can surely see the connection. :rolleyes:
Enough already, leave the classics alone!
Why the fuck is half of YouTube down? You are YouTube! You don’t go down! And even if you do, how does half of your site go down?! I can watch some videos, but not others. There better be a damn good excuse for this, as you are keeping me from watching such great videos like the damnnation of Pachelbel
What’s that you say fellow Dopers, that link doesn’t work? THAT’S MY POINT!
Look, lady. Sending a company-wide email does not mean that you have to put a fucking smiley after EVERY. FUCKING. OTHER. WORD. Not any ordinary pair of characters or even one of the tiny little pictures like on the boards here. No, these are the gigantic obnoxious animated shiny fucking smilies that you get from clicking on those stupid web banners.
Here’s a sample:
“We’re having a meeting at 10 to discuss moving to the new office. Please be sure to attend. Thank you.”
Now, ordinarily that’s just fine, unless you suffer from Smiley Syndrome. Let’s look at this through the filter of a smiley addict:
“We’re having a meeting (animated gif of three smilies talking at a table) at 10 (smiley holding up a sign reading “TEN!”) to discuss (one giant smiley making the “yadda yadda” motion with a disembodied yellow hand) moving to the new office. (animated gif of a smiley driving a moving truck, with stuff falling out the back) Please be sure to attend. (giant smiley clasping disembodied hands together, pleading silently, gritting its teeth together as tears spill from its gigantic shiney eyes) Thank you. (giant smiley throwing its arms wide and mouthing “Thank you!” while the words “Thank you!” flash underneath it in time to its motions)”
I mean, for fuck’s sake.
And could you turn the other way, if it’s not too much trouble? That would make dealing with phone interviews with companies and recruiters in Pittsburgh easier for this definitely-not-a-morning-person. And it would mean they wouldn’t call me at 5:30 @#%! AM. I’m already not getting enough sleep because I’m stressed about job hunting- I do not need to be woken up at 5:30 AM.
I pit the Mars-sized object that hit the proto-Earth to form the moon, and whatever event set off the original rotation of the Earth, for not making the Earth spin the other way. Or continental drift, for orienting North America the way it did…
This is very clearly an example of a “Princess” type of user. At least they’re not asking you to commit a felony, this time at least…
Any reply to this so badly needs a vomiting smiley…
Okay, whoever-you-were in the South County Y lockerroom last night, you need to offer thanks unto God for narrowly escaping death.
You see, when I came to my locker – and you had to take the one right next to mine instead of the 8 empty ones down the row, didn’t you – wheezing from exercise-induced asthma, that was the exact moment that you HAD to whip out your aerosol deodorant. And fog out the whole row of lockers.
You clearly didn’t notice me doubling over from coughing, or the other guy gasping and waving his towel around to clear the air. Because before the fog bank could clear, you had to give it a second blast under both armpits. Asshole.
But, oh no, you weren’t done. You cleverly waited just long enough for us to regain our breath and for our eyes to stop watering – before pulling out the foot aerosol. Asswipe. And that one you had to fog us out again while spraying your feet – and again to spray your flip-flops.
I swear, had I been capable of physical action or seeing through the aerosol cloud at that point, I would have taken both of those damn spray cans and shoved them so far up your huge and no doubt feculent bunghole that you would have been tasting them every time you swallowed.
As it was, I had to go back and shower again just to get the stink off me. Fuck.
I’m surprised he didn’t have another spray for his feculent bunghole. But maybe the aerosol cans would have helped the feculent bunghole problem once you shoved them up there, you’d have been doing him a service in helping him with his feculent bunghole problem.
Feculent Bunghole.
Band Name!
Fuck tuk tuk drivers in Bangkok, I KNOW it’s $3 to get where I want to go in an air conditioned taxi, why they hell won’t you even bargain past $6? What the hell is your angle here!
Fuck you Myanmar AND your no bank having ass!
Fuck you, La Quinta Inn advertising sellout fuckfaces. That shit was brilliant, so what’s with the voiceovers now? Having to catch the commercials several times to figure out what the message was, that had me actually paying attention to the commercial breaks. But since you’re going to read them to me I’ll go back to ignoring them.
Dumb shits.
(La Quinta.)
Yes ! A band in the extremely intellectually rigorous mold of The Talking Heads or Steely Dan. After all, the band is assuming that their following knows what “feculent” means and can use it intelligently in a sentence. 
You’re kidding, right? Surely no one is that unprofessional?
cue BWAHAHAHAHA from the audience
Honestly, I don’t think I’d be able to find you guilty if you decided to go over to her and beat her about the head and shoulders with her mouse. Which, she has probably cutely named Dietrich.