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Fuck you, school bus! Every morning you lead me down Webster Street, stopping at every corner to pick up the middle-school surlies who slink onto the bus, down the aisle and into the seat at the pace of tranquilized snails. I leave early? You are ahead of me. I putter around the house for 5 extra minutes? I still end up behind your fat, yellow ass. Do you train you satellites on my car to determine the best possible timing to make me drive 1 mile in 15 minutes? Bless the children, and all that shit, but I’d love to drive down Webster without stopping every 30 fucking seconds.
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Fuck you, Dan Patrick! I like to listen to sports/talk radio on my commute and lurve Mike & Mike in the morning (Usually. However, if it’s Monday and Dick Vitale is the guest, I’m out of there Dick Vitale is another whole mini-rant in itself!). My afternoon commute offers either Tony Bruno (um, no thanks) or your putrid, smarmy, inept-interviewing, Reggie-Miller-ass-kissing, too-cool-for-the-room intolerable self. Thankfully, I have taken to downloading Colin Cowherd’s podcast so I can avoid your dreary shitstain of a show in favor of yesterday’s “In the Herd” on my drive home.
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Fuck you food cravings! I’ve been sooo good for sooo long–I’ve dropped 25 pounds and feel great. But I have this overwhelming desire for a rich, chocolatey, gooey, yummy diet-killer. Hmmm . . . maybe an Applebee’s “Triple Chocolate Meltdown” Registered & Protected by MarkMonitor will do the trick. Wait, 726 calories–31 grams of fat?!? I’m going to undo all the good I’ve done for that? Guess I’ll have a 60 calorie, 0 fat fudge bar insead. Yeah, like that’s going to satisfy me.
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Fuck you, Lost. For your season finale. Yeah, you know what I’m talking about and it ain’t Charlie’s adventures in the Looking Glass. I admit, I never saw that ending coming and I shiver to think how long I’ll need to wait for some fucking answers.
Fuck you, Old Age for making me wear reading glasses. No seriously, FUCK YOU!
Don’t fight the inevitable either, dude. 
In light of the alternative.
You, too, huh? Yeah, dude, I still can’t walk upright after the royal accrued-interest-even-eons-before-we-sent-you-the-goddamn-tax-bill fucking that New Jersey gave me. WTHolyF?!
Woo-hoo, I’m the Garden State’s newest bitch! Cuntilicious, toe-jam sucking bastards!
You live near me. That makes it hard for me not to punch you. Luckily, there’s a lot of people around here that look like you, so unless you talk to me I won’t know who you are.
This is probably thread-worthy but since I want to get it out but don’t want to go there, I’ll post it in minirants. I’m also not being specific, since it’s the internet and all, and I’ve got respect for people (unlike some other people, being ranted about).
May you suffer 10,000 hells. May you be sentenced to swallow your own balls for eternity.
May you think, every day, about what you have done.
<Wu-Tang>I’m gonna fuckin’ sew your asshole closed, and keep feedin’ ya, and feedin’ ya…</wtc>
You are such a fucking little shit. You may try to talk to me at some point. For what you’ve done to me and mine, you are shunned. You won’t care.
I hope to hell you are scared of running into me. I would never hurt you, because I want you to live with your chicken-ass pathetic self.
Fucking fuckitty fuck you to yeast infections! Dear jeebus on a bicycle, get off me!! I will go to the drugstore as soon as they open, please do not bubble and sqeak in there! The itch from hell, the burning of a thousand suns! I can’t stand, I can’t sit and I am giving the chair the lap dance of it’s life trying to relieve myself.
I know, I know, you gave a few warning shots across the bow to let me know of your arrival but dear Og, why blow up full throttle NOW? Drugstore was on the list for today, I’ll show you the ‘To Do’ list! It’s right here!
Oh yeah, a big round of Fuck You to the people who made the drugstore put the Monistat behind locked door forcing me to dislodge an employee to get it out! Fuck you all very much and the yeasty horse you rode in on.
And while I’m at it, fuck my employers for ‘forgetting’ to cut my check every other week for 2 months! You don’t know who you’re fucking with - I have your files and a magnet and I am not afraid to use it! Bite me and take the yeast from hell with you.
There.
Another mini-rant: Bruschetta
It is pronounced Broo-sket-ta. Stop fucking (incorrectly) correcting me, you moronic waitstaff. It is NOT Broo-shetta.
She has partial vision in that eye, I believe. Actually, my father ended up the one arrested. We couldn’t call the cops because he had an outstanding warrant. He chased the perps with a bat, and while he didn’t catch them (bikes), somebody called the police. So he was arrested and the teenage rock-throwers went free. We knew who it was, though, because my sister had accused one of them of trying to rape her. But we couldn’t do anything anyway, they were a gang. They would have brought hell down on us, and there was a little preemie baby in the house to worry about. Plus we had no proof who it was, and the cops sure as hell weren’t going to investigate that shit. I’m surprised they even showed up that night.
Elmwood sahib would like to ask the Indian spammers who have gifted their advertisements upon my message board to do the needful and oblige by kindly fucking off very very much please. Regards.
Word. And fuck you for making me doubt myself and look it up, after that happened a couple of times.
“Oh my goodness gracious, yes, you are having what is most definitely a hardware problem! We will be thanking you very much for calling your vendor with this problem. My name is “Chuck”, and be very much having a good day!..”
To the people in the theater where I saw Pirates 3 last night.
SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!
Honestly, I have never been in a theater with so many assholes. during the whole move, there was a low level drone of people talking. Looking around, at least two people had their cell phones out, texting away.
I finally snapped at the young lady behind me who insisted on narrating "look, they've got things on their heads, look, his fell off..." and so on. Yes dear, we all can see that, unlike you, most people's eyes connect to their brains without having to make a stop at their mouth.
This shut "Chatty Cathy" down, the noise around the theater continued. Most of that I couldn't actually hear what they were saying, just that they were talking, so I could tune them out, but damn it, why should I have to?This is why I do not go to movies anymore. The SO and I decided to see something stupid a couples months ago on a Saturday afternoon, so we went to see Wild Hogs. It was exactly as you described… a low hum with people talking, and during the funny parts a couple people laughed consistently LOUD and LONG. I don’t remember what I saw last, but I remember a similar (but not as bad) experience. Fuck that. I’ll keep my $20. The SO and I can go for a walk instead.
YOU are a native American, dammit! Just like me 'cause we were both, you know, BORN IN AMERICA. Those people your ancestors massacred and enslaved weren’t native Americans. They were born in more than 500 different nations, none of which was fucking America. Got it?
Yesterday afternoon, I went to get my marriage license in Fairfax County, Virginia. There was a block on the form captioned “Race.”
I wrote “Celtic.” The man behind the counter said that was not an acceptable answer and that it was not on “the list.” I asked to see the list. The first thing I noticed was “Chinese.” “American” was also a choice.
Unbelievable. I mean, I wasn’t even about to argue with the bureaucratic simpleton, so I just shook my head and wrote “American.”
Fuck you Rosie O’Donnell. Fuck you Rachel Ray. Fuck you Regis, Kelly and all of you assholes my fucking wife listens to every fucking day. Everyone on The View can go eat a steamy bowl of fuck.
cough
hack
Just quit it with the second hand smoke already! My allergies are starting to go nuts, all because I had the audacity to wander about outside to look at the holiday weekend sales.
So those wildfires in GA and FL: keep yer damn smoke to yourselves!
Great, now my eyes are starting to itch as well. Knowing my luck, those wildfires are burning stuff I’m allergic to. 
<< rw-rw-rw: The file protection of the beast >>
You advertised this role-playing campaign in January, you flake. We’ve had one, count 'em, one session since then. I’ve seen e-mail Diplomacy games go faster than this! Whoops, nearly had a second session today, can’t have that, better cancel it. Gaah!
Stupid dog. Let me do yoga. That mat is not for you. I know the lotus position makes a cozy-looking lap but it is not for you to sit on. And I know that you can do Downward Dog way better than I can, but I don’t find your close-up assitance particularly helpful. It is hard to balance when your nose is in my ear.
Hoodies. Why do all the zip-front tops have hoods attached? I like to layer and you can’t wear more than one thing with a hood on it at once or else you end up with a stupid hunchback. And the hoods are always limp and stupid-looking, how often do you see people with those tops wearing the hoods? Never! That’s how often! If I need a hood, I’ll wear a proper one, like on a thick fuzzy sweatshirt. I don’t need one on my thin jersey knit top.