The other day, I opened a thread…
…and I never went back to it!
I deserve such a spanking.
Sorry for the gratuituous Tubes reference, but ideally, it should be “a baby’s arm holding an apple.”
Carry on
If this little rant was fried in lard, wrapped in cheese and stuffed with goose and veal pate, powdered with sugar, dipped in chocolate and smothered in raspeberry sauce it might have something going for it, but as is umm… meh.
Nah - what pisses me off is the people who go on and on and on and on and on about how much they drank last nigth and their fucking hangovers, and endlessly list every single drink they had the previous night (though how the fuck they can remember beats me).
It is NOT interesting what you had to drink. Every single combination of alcoholic excess has been done before. It is ONLY interesting if the drink was a new alien vodka from Mars, containing fluorescent spaceworms, that glows in the dark and makes your piss turn to strawberry juice.
Twenty pints, thirty G&Ts, a bottle of Baileys, three hundred bacardi and cokes - all this has been done before. Please don’t tell me. Please don’t list it all. Please don’t even bother to tell me how drunk you got and how hungover you are, because (a) I can see it and (b) I can smell it.
I have a friend like this. He’s convinced he’s a tough scary guy. The problem is, he’s just overweight enough to look cuddly, and he dresses like a boy band member. And he has beautiful, beautiful woman hair. And he’s a computer geek. So overall, possibly the most nonthreatening guy I know. But he’s sure he’s a macho man, livin’ on the edge… Sometimes it’s funny, and sometimes it’s just really annoying.
Jeez, I’m in the exact opposite situation, Mearl Dox! I’m a sweet, unassuming lil femme boi. I’m a New Democrat for godsakes, nobody’s scared of us. But I’ve been mistaken for a frickn biker before, because [sub]get this[/sub] I was wearing a vest!
Okay, carry on.
. . . so this coworker comes up to me and says, “I like your fuck-me shoes.”
What!?
Black pumps with 2-inch heel. No slingback, no cutout, no open toe. Not even toe cleavage. No bells, whistles, buckles, or bows. They aren’t even patent leather.
Even if shoes could be evil, which I don’t believe, these aren’t.
My response (not given aloud): “Nice clodhoppers.” (Also black, some kind of Kenneth Cole clog, IMO much sexier than mine on account of open heel. But I feel some better putdown is required. I’ll have to think about this. Probably for days.)
color me laughing my ass off.
:rolleyes:
Sounds like you’re hangin out with Rick from The Young Ones.
Cicada2003: Next time that happens, say “Nice shitkickers” and say it loud.
Guaranteed to make the person ignore you the rest of the week. 
– Derleth, proud wearer of shitkickers.
Very amusing OP. Very observant, as well.
Beavis: These guys are living on the edge!
Butt-head: Yeah. The edge of Wuss Cliff.
Too
Can I use this as a sig line?
So this guy did this funny thing, and we were laughin’! And I was like “Damn!”
When I was in high school, the drill was to get on any one of the mighty fine variety of buses, which would then shuttle us the one block over to the middle school. There, we would then board the proper bus to take us home. I remember one day a couple of real loose cannon girls (Mormons, perhaps?) getting on the “wrong” bus at the HS, and telling the driver “Hey, we know it’s the wrong bus, be we decided What The Hell.” To this she added a devilish grin.
Woah, there, you Biker Mormons from Heck, throw caution to the wind much? The better schools might not want to touch you after such a stunt.
Funnily enough, I think they did it to impress me with their “danger” side. Flattered though I should have been, it failed to impress me much.
Also funny was that the next year, the school prohibited these wild bus-hopping shenanigans. I guess they figured some people could simply not handle the power trip.
Sure, you can have it. Take a couple for your friends as well. In fact, sigs all around, i’m good for it people.
Ugh, I hate hearing about someone’s “wild night filled with drinking and partying,” only to find out later that it was just a bunch of pussy-whipped boyfriends sitting around playing XBOX and drinking a couple beers while their girlfriends are elsewhere. Then I get to see these dumbasses stumble around campus all day, carrying a 32oz. bottle of Gatorade to help with that “massive throbbing pain” in their pea-brained, thick-skulled heads. Get a fucking life, losers!
Thanks. I needed that.
Somehow I picture somebody like Terry Pratchett designing extra hells (a la the Chinese) for those who commit thoroughly unremarkable and inconsequential sins, such as the hell for those who eat an extra slice of New York cheesecake with cherry topping and proclaim how evil they are for doing so.
The punishments would be bland and petty, such as having cable TV go out for 30 minutes. Kind of like going to heck and being darned.
And since someone else pulled the grammar nazi card first, while we’re at it. “There are” not They are.
dances the grammar nazi dance
As long as we’re playing… it’s “puppies”