Or if all else fails, go up to a pretty girl in the street - squint at her carefully - and then say, “wow - they’re right - your eyes are lopsided” and walk off.
She’ll whip out a mirror in zero to ten, and wonder for the rest of the day.
Screw you, Eggbert. It’s bad enough you screwed up my paycheck - but at least be brave enough to admit it. Good thing I have enough money and food to hold me over.
The worst thing? Knowing that they chose you over me for your job - and then to have you screw it up with MY timesheet . . . .
Fuck you, summer cold. I don’t need my throat to feel like someone’s been getting enthusiastic with the sandpaper. I don’t need to be coughing up little shreds of phlegm. I don’t need this threat of a headache hovering just over the horizon. You’re lucky I still had some of the Rx cough syrup left from last time, or I probably wouldn’t have gotten any sleep, and I’d be in an even worse mood.
I can’t take any more political advertisements! If you go to factcheck or politifact you will find that all the candidates are outright lying or telling half-truths. I don’t want any of these turkeys in office.
As my late great Latin teacher used to say, the best form of government is a benevolent dictator.
Funny, I never taught Latin.
You are, presumably, also not dead.
I wouldn’t necessarily make that assumption, given recent policy changes with regard to Zombies. 
Oh, FFS, I do not want to go out to dinner at five o’clock in the afternoon. It’s MY birthday; suck it up and stay out after dark.
Toward zombie threads. Zombie posters, I would assume, we still desire to rehume as swiftly as possible.
The SDMB is a fertile place for us. Approach a poster while moaning “Braaaaaains” and all they do is say, “Well this board is about fighting ignorance after aaaaAAW GOD MY FACE”
This should be its own thread but I’m almost TOO angry to start a thread.
A dear friend of ours and her husband recently adopted three kids from a broken family. The mom left the kids with a friend, then skipped town to do drugs, leaving the friend with no idea where she was. The friend panicked, called social services, and that’s where my friend stepped in as a foster parent.
Kids took to the couple like a fish to water. They loved being in a stable home, after they had no idea when druggie mom would come home, and daddy ended up either dead or in jail. The only person in the kids’ former family who wasn’t messed up was their mom’s elderly, very sick father, who is almost unable to even leave his home without help.
Guess who the judge just decided to award custody to. Yep, the sick grandfather, who almost doesn’t even want to have the kids because he knows he can’t take care of them. But mom decided she wanted the kids back, and because she knew damn well after abandoning them there wasn’t a hope in hell she’d be awarded custody, she lied to the judge and told him the grandfather was capable of taking care of them.
FUCK! YOU BROKE MY FRIEND’S HEART AND YOU RUINED THREE LOVELY CHILDREN’S LIVES! Fuck you sideways, “mom”! :mad:
How about fuck grandpa, too, for taking on the kids when he knows he can’t care for them. And why the hell would the judge take anything the mother says at face value?
God only knows. My wife is going to try to talk to her at some point today, but our friend is devastated. It looks like apparently the grandfather was goaded into signing his name on the petition, so the “mom” is officially out of the loop, but of course she is going to be there once the kids come back. Apparently so she can abandon them again while she goes on another drug run. :mad:
So my brother had a craniotomy last month, tumor out not cancerous, all is well. Still can’t drive, still on disability, so he’s home and getting very bored. So for the last month, I’ve been taking my lunch hour to go visit him. Give him some adult contact (otherwise would be surrounded by 3 teenage girls all day).
Running out of stuff to say. Can’t talk about his work, as he hasn’t been there in over a month, so has nothing to say. We already talked about my work - nothing else to say. So, I pulled out politics. We had a good chuckle about Branstad (aka Braindead) and Culver (aka fatass). We both called Sarah Palin a numb-nuts. You know, good ol bonding, joshing, joking.
I said something about - well at least you aren’t blaming the downfall of civilization on the feminists. And that gets him started. I see the twinkle in his eye - so I know its a joke. It fucking sucks to hear someone say those things and know that they think they are so funny, but he crossed the line when he called me a feminist c. You know the c I mean. The one that makes me and every other woman I know see red.
So yeah, I flipped out. Man, do I hate that fucking word. As you can see, I have no probs with profanity in and of itself. Profanity can be your friend. But that word is toxic.
So, am I the oversensitive screamer that can’t take a joke, or is he a fucking moron for not realizing that nothing about that word is ever funny, and its not a joke to call anyone that word?
You’re the oversensitive screamer who can’t a joke. I rather like the word, msyelf.
Now, if he’d used the word around you before and you’d expressed how much you hated it and he used it *anyway *just to push your buttons, *then *you get to scream at him.
I knew you’d set me straight SFG.
My SO forgot my birthday.
I’m not really pissed, but a little sad. I know he’s scatterbrained and not good with dates, but the important stuff he writes down on a calendar. I realized that I usually mention something casually in passing, usually relating to where we would go to dinner. This year I didn’t want to go to dinner so I didn’t happen to say anything. The day came and went.
It’s going to be tough when he realizes, because he’ll be embarrassed and then he’ll try to make it my fault (because I didn’t say anything). He does that when he’s embarrassed.
Then he’ll apologize and buy extra presents, which mostly I don’t want anyway (clothes I either can’t or don’t want to wear).
I don’t really care about the presents or the card or the dinner out. I just want to be important enough for him to remember one date a year about me. After 19 years together, that doesn’t seem too much to ask.
Oh well. Now I have to do all the soul searching about putting this in perspective and remembering all the nice things he has done for me in the past.
Roddy
Oh go fuck yourself bus driver.
Do you know why I gave you the goddamned finger?
Because you saw me at the bus stop from 500 yards away. I was wearing a bright blue top for god sakes. Did you stop at the stop? No. You stopped nearly three blocks away after I yelled and screamed and waved and ran after the bus. I gave you the finger initially because you sped past the damned stop. I wasn’t sure if you were going to stop at all. That’s called a normal human reaction. Get over it.
You were also ten minutes late, you asshole.
The proper response when you see someone at a bus stop is to STOP. As in do your fucking job, you lazy bitch. The wrong response is to stop three full blocks from the damned bus stop, make run from the covered bus stop in a drizzle, then start yelling at me when I get on the damned bus about giving you the finger. You had no right to publically berate me let alone throw my requested transfer on the floor. You certainly had no right to yell at me for five minutes and include insults about my work history or my parenting skills.
You want respect? Do your job. You didn’t. You have no right to whine when people respond in kind to your incompetence. Respect is a two way street not a dead end, you birdbrained hypocrite.
Have fun on the unemployment line because that’s where I sincerely hope you end up ASAP.
Bwuh??? I cannot even fathom these things being acceptable in a relationship. Seriously? He’d better be three steps below the second coming of Christ to get a pass on something like a birthday after two decades.