Top Ten Things (or People) That (Who) Pissed Me Off This Week (in no particular order):
- The jackass in front of me at the grocery store with $60 worth of groceries who stared, bovine-like, at my groceries (a bottle of coffee creamer, two cans of cat food and a small package of cheddar cheese) who didn’t have the decency to let me in line ahead of him. On top of that, the motha-fucker paid with fucking food stamps. A bureaucratic nightmare for him and the checkout clerk both. Ugh.
- People (no one in particular, but if the foo shits…) who read my blog and assume that they now know everything there is to know about me, and who even go so far as to presume they know me better than I do. Fuck off and die. And not necessarily in THAT order.
- People at work, at home and elsewhere who think I’m their unpaid HELP DESK for all eternity. (No one in particular here, but if you are guilty, you ought to damned sure know who you are.) There’s a PayPal link on the sidebar for this reason. Use it.
- The fucktard in our Purchasing Department who, when I place an order for supplies (usually because my Bossette wants something for a project), tells me how expensive something is. Uh, I didn’t call you for a price-check, I called you because I need for you to send the damned shit up to me ASAPtually. Without sidebar comments.
- The shithead in the stall next to me at the car wash with his fucking subwoofer. That pounding throbbing ear-sore makes me want to CASTRATE everything in sight. I had to move my car, or I was going to get carried away in a squad car. Yes, I moved my car so that this young turd could live. Could live to infect the world (or at least the airspace around him) with his non-music.
- Fucking Anna Nicole Smith. If I want to watch someone on a heroine nod, I’d just go cruising the Fifth Ward. Shit, this bitch almost makes me want to lose weight just so I won’t be a Fat Chick (like HER) any longer. It’s almost more than I can stand. Lee Ermey said it better. The best part of [Anna Nicole] ran down the crack of her momma’s ass when she was conceived.
- People who get a dog or cat for a pet, then decide it’s tearing up the furniture and decide to either get it declawed (if it’s a cat) or dump it on the side of the road (cat or dog, but mostly cats, because people always, stupidly and erroneously, think it can “fend for itself”). No, it can’t, you dumb shit. It’s a fucking pet. It doesn’t know about hunting and prey (or being prey). Anyone so fucking self-involved that they go into a hissy fit over an inanimate piece of furniture doesn’t deserve to have a single living fucking THING in their house. Get a goddam fish. Then you can flush the fucker down the toilet when you’re tired of it.
- People at laundromats (and elsewhere for that matter) who let their crotch droppings (otherwise known as children) run wild, dirty and free among MY fucking clean clothing. At least I have enough sense to know I never wanted kids, can’t deal with them and don’t care for them all that much (unless they are sweet-smelling and VERY WELL BEHAVED).
- The shitstain at Radio Shack who LIED TO ME and told me I could bring back the package of 25 Phillips CD-RWs for a refund of what I paid. Turns out the best they could do was issue a store credit. No, I don’t want any more inferior shit from Shadio Rack. I brought this inferior piece of shit product back because it wasn’t functional. I want to stock up on more nonfunctional, nonworking, poorly manufactured crap? I may be fat, but I’m not stupid.
- The blithering, grinning asshole female anchor (Taslyn Alfonso, if you must know) who butchers the English language and when she’s not busy doing that sits behind the anchor desk looking like nothing so much as a crazed cow. She was gone for two days this week and replaced by the eloquent, educated Patti Shieh. I was so hoping the bitch had been shit-canned. But she was back, fucking up my Friday from the word go. Ugh.
Oh, and I’ve disabled comments because I really don’t give a shit what you think this time.