Saturday, April 08, 2006
PART 1
Let me preface this blog by explaining that this list is a sampling of shit that bothers me. I have already made a 70 plus itemized list (check former blogs) of shit, and I will do more as stuff approaches me. If I come across as selfish, insensitive, and not caring, then congratulations, you finally understand me!
A.) I hate ANYONE who puts music on their MySpace page. Let me repeat, I HATE ANYONE & EVERYONE who puts music on their MySpace page. I love rap, and I do not even care if it is some Biggie or Dre, I do not want to hear it. First off, there is nothing more annoying than checking people's pages while bored at work, and having shitty music blaring suddenly like a concert. Sure, I could turn my speakers off, but why should I, you fucks? I need the speakers so the computer can beep at me when I put the amount of the checks in the wrong column. I am not jerking myself off muting and un-muting my computer depending on what web pages I view at work. Secondly, most people do not like the crappy music on your page! Nobody cares if you have the newest single from "Airplane Ride from Sally" or some garbage underground band that nobody ever heard of. Underground is just another term for sucks. If you had even remotely a little talent, a record label would have picked you up by now. Stop forcing the rest of us to seek the pause button with record speed on the page. And to the certain few who don't use that standard MySpace music player where I have the pause button location memorized, I hope you get full-blown AIDS. Somehow, the die-hard MySpace geeks know a way to play music so nobody can silence it, and I hope you shitheads are silenced permanently.
A1.) The other thing that burns my ass is fancy profiles. I like to read people's pages and comments; I really want to hear "About You" & "Who you would like to meet." The remote chance that under a hot broad's who she would like to meet is a 26 year old bank teller who lives at home, I need to read that! If you have stupid pictures in the background with white text, you can't read shit. Shit falling down or flashing makes me feel like I am having a seizure. All I want to do is read, I do not need a damn laser light show. I promise to all who read my page, I will NEVER have music and anything other than the default MySpace background.
B.) I hate strangers. Last night I was content losing money at my video poker machine. I got a couple four-of-a-kinds, but I was hoping for the five-of-a-kind, which would have paid me 5000 quarters! That would have been enough scratch to hire a clean, white hooker, and eat the breakfast buffet! Unfortunately, I would have had to pay for the entire hour, even though I only would use 3 minutes. By 3 minutes, I mean clothes off and clean-up are included. I guess for the 57 other minutes, I could have her do my laundry or clean the place up a little, but it was a hotel room, so who gives a shit. Anyway, I digress. So, I was concentrating on the machine when some dead lady sits next to me. She asks me what my strategy is. Then before I can reply, she lights up a Marlboro Red. I hate the smell of cigarettes, even though I had a cigar. Yes, they are two different smells, and I cannot take the smell of cigarettes. Now I get this lady bothering me, and blowing full flavored cancer at me. She gave me a warm welcome to Marlboro Country, and I was not impressed. I am not the total asshole that many of you think I am, so I humor her for a little. I explain to her I always keep a pair, and ditch any payout that requires more than 2 cards to complete. She was content, but now she is going to analyze each hand, and ask why I didn't keep certain cards. She was nice, so I couldn't be a total dick to her, and I was winning a lot of hands, so I didn't want to leave the machine. Now she begins to explain how she is waiting for the Bee Gee's tribute show to start. So, we pass around another few lines of small talk, and then she decided it was time to go find her friend. While this little old lady was harmless, it made me remember how much I hate strangers in public.
B1.) These people are called "Small-Talkers" in my book. You know this type of scumbag; they feel association is enough in common to talk. Example one, you are waiting in line at a fast food dump on your lunch break, and this guy is behind you. He begins with a simple one-liner like, "Boy, could this line move any slower?" He then waits for someone to join in his rant. Even a simple turning around will seal your entry into his world. Being on the "other side" in the working world, I understand the last thing a cashier at McDonald's needs is some guy making these comments. When I hear them at the bank, I automatically cut my speed in half. The line is probably moving slow because the person at the front is a problem. Typically, they have coupons, want the clerk to find a certain toy for their shitty, spoiled, fucking child, or are complaining about the quality of their food. If people just approached the counter, ordered their meal by number, paid, and moved over, the line would move really fast. One day, I am going to turn around and explain this theory to a small talker, but he probably won't listen to reason any point that does not validify his own.
B2.) Example Two: You are in line at Target, Wal-Mart, Caldor, or Path Mark and you get a similar small talker, usually a woman. She begins with usually a huff or puff, and sometimes both combined. The problem here is a long check out line. She might make a general comment like, "Why can't they open any more registers?" She then pauses and waits for an audience. I also ignore cunts like this, because you do not need to be in Target at 3PM buying a gallon of milk, jeans, and a coffee table. Go get your milk at Wawa, and stop spending money on the other useless shit. Here is the deal, you bitch. If they could open more registers, they probably would! People who work in these stores don't want you in the store longer than you have to be. Believe us; if we could let you walk out the door without paying, we would just to get rid of you and your better-than-us attitude. If you were in that much of a hurry, you should budget your time better. Each additional cashier is a cost for the company, and they want to make as much profit as possible. Knowing that you are not going to abandon an entire cart of groceries because there are long lines, the companies got us by the balls. Be fucking happy we have stores with food in them, and you have money to feed your shitty family. You have nothing else to do all day except waste your husband's money with other cackling hens in your neighborhood, so shut up!
C.) I hate kids, well most of them. Every so often you see kids that are well-behaved, which means good parents. You know the kids that sit at a restaurant quietly and smile and laugh all throughout the meal. Those kids are fine; they might even be considered cute. The rest of the monsters deserve to get their voice boxes torn out with rusty ice picks. NOTHING ruins a good meal like hearing a fucking 3 year old scream at full decibel. The useless parents just sit there and try to sssh them. Guess what, that doesn't work anymore than asking it what's wrong. If the shitty kid is that disruptive, you might re-consider bringing it out in public, or at least taking it outdoors to calm it down. Yeah, I know people will give me the "wait until you have kids" shit. Guess what, I do NOT want kids! I do not want to pay for their freeloading asses, I do not want to pay for more college, and I surely do not want to support them until they are 26 and still live at home. Even if I had kids for whatever reason, I would have the common decency to take my child outside, to the car, or to the rest room to calm it down. It is more obnoxious than anything to let a child scream in public. I propose restaurants offer baby or non-baby sections instead of smoking. I would sooner have a 90 year old woman blow Pall Malls in my face during supper than listen to a fucking baby scream. This can be applied anywhere, not just restaurants. From working at Target for 4.5 years, I have heard many shitty kids scream their way through the building. The parents continue to shop as if they are deaf. Perhaps I should scream at my loudest in their ears to see if they like it. Please, leave your shitty kids at home, nobody likes them except you. Nothing about them is cute. It is not cute when a kid throws his drink on the floor, it is not cute when a kid puts crayons in their nose, and it is far from cute when your little kid stands up on the booth and turns around. I do not want your ugly fucking kid looking at me when I am trying to enjoy my $20 steak. A double fuck you goes out to anyone who humors such behavior by talking to the kid when it stands up and turns around at a restaurant.
D.) I hate birthday celebrations in restaurants. Anyone who goes to supper with me knows this well. No matter what restaurant, what time, what day, it is always someone's fucking birthday when I go to eat. Ask Vinny, Tim, or Reinhold, every Wednesday we go to eat there is a birthday. They will sing and clap for a birthday, even if that restaurant doesn't offer the promotion. They will do it because they know I am there. The fucking wait staff needs to stop serving their tables and sing birthday songs like a cancer patient needs a cigarette. When I am parched and dying for a Diet Coke, my waitress is off singing to some 16 year old girl as their friends laugh like it is the first time this was ever done. To make shit worse, every restaurant has their own birthday song complete with clapping and other irritating shit. Apparently the asshole who wrote "Happy Birthday" has it copyrighted, and nobody wants to pay the royalties, so they make their own. Freeloading scumbags will pull off a fake birthday to get a free scoop of ice cream, a sliver of stale cake, and a shitty candle. I would ask for a license after they eat their "free" dessert, and if the birthday does not match, you get charged for the food. That would stop half the problems. Secondly, what kind of scumbag brings anyone to a chain restaurant to celebrate their birthday? How degrading to have the whole restaurant stare at you and some stray assholes clap and cheer for you. Birthdays are depressing enough without having 5 underpaid waitresses at Friday's bring you a scoop of free vanilla ice cream. Next time bring me out a noose, and clap as I put it around my neck and lace it up to the rafters. Right after the first note, someone please pull the chair from my feet.
Originally Posted: 08 March 2006
A.) I hate ANYONE who puts music on their MySpace page. Let me repeat, I HATE ANYONE & EVERYONE who puts music on their MySpace page. I love rap, and I do not even care if it is some Biggie or Dre, I do not want to hear it. First off, there is nothing more annoying than checking people's pages while bored at work, and having shitty music blaring suddenly like a concert. Sure, I could turn my speakers off, but why should I, you fucks? I need the speakers so the computer can beep at me when I put the amount of the checks in the wrong column. I am not jerking myself off muting and un-muting my computer depending on what web pages I view at work. Secondly, most people do not like the crappy music on your page! Nobody cares if you have the newest single from "Airplane Ride from Sally" or some garbage underground band that nobody ever heard of. Underground is just another term for sucks. If you had even remotely a little talent, a record label would have picked you up by now. Stop forcing the rest of us to seek the pause button with record speed on the page. And to the certain few who don't use that standard MySpace music player where I have the pause button location memorized, I hope you get full-blown AIDS. Somehow, the die-hard MySpace geeks know a way to play music so nobody can silence it, and I hope you shitheads are silenced permanently.
A1.) The other thing that burns my ass is fancy profiles. I like to read people's pages and comments; I really want to hear "About You" & "Who you would like to meet." The remote chance that under a hot broad's who she would like to meet is a 26 year old bank teller who lives at home, I need to read that! If you have stupid pictures in the background with white text, you can't read shit. Shit falling down or flashing makes me feel like I am having a seizure. All I want to do is read, I do not need a damn laser light show. I promise to all who read my page, I will NEVER have music and anything other than the default MySpace background.
B.) I hate strangers. Last night I was content losing money at my video poker machine. I got a couple four-of-a-kinds, but I was hoping for the five-of-a-kind, which would have paid me 5000 quarters! That would have been enough scratch to hire a clean, white hooker, and eat the breakfast buffet! Unfortunately, I would have had to pay for the entire hour, even though I only would use 3 minutes. By 3 minutes, I mean clothes off and clean-up are included. I guess for the 57 other minutes, I could have her do my laundry or clean the place up a little, but it was a hotel room, so who gives a shit. Anyway, I digress. So, I was concentrating on the machine when some dead lady sits next to me. She asks me what my strategy is. Then before I can reply, she lights up a Marlboro Red. I hate the smell of cigarettes, even though I had a cigar. Yes, they are two different smells, and I cannot take the smell of cigarettes. Now I get this lady bothering me, and blowing full flavored cancer at me. She gave me a warm welcome to Marlboro Country, and I was not impressed. I am not the total asshole that many of you think I am, so I humor her for a little. I explain to her I always keep a pair, and ditch any payout that requires more than 2 cards to complete. She was content, but now she is going to analyze each hand, and ask why I didn't keep certain cards. She was nice, so I couldn't be a total dick to her, and I was winning a lot of hands, so I didn't want to leave the machine. Now she begins to explain how she is waiting for the Bee Gee's tribute show to start. So, we pass around another few lines of small talk, and then she decided it was time to go find her friend. While this little old lady was harmless, it made me remember how much I hate strangers in public.
B1.) These people are called "Small-Talkers" in my book. You know this type of scumbag; they feel association is enough in common to talk. Example one, you are waiting in line at a fast food dump on your lunch break, and this guy is behind you. He begins with a simple one-liner like, "Boy, could this line move any slower?" He then waits for someone to join in his rant. Even a simple turning around will seal your entry into his world. Being on the "other side" in the working world, I understand the last thing a cashier at McDonald's needs is some guy making these comments. When I hear them at the bank, I automatically cut my speed in half. The line is probably moving slow because the person at the front is a problem. Typically, they have coupons, want the clerk to find a certain toy for their shitty, spoiled, fucking child, or are complaining about the quality of their food. If people just approached the counter, ordered their meal by number, paid, and moved over, the line would move really fast. One day, I am going to turn around and explain this theory to a small talker, but he probably won't listen to reason any point that does not validify his own.
B2.) Example Two: You are in line at Target, Wal-Mart, Caldor, or Path Mark and you get a similar small talker, usually a woman. She begins with usually a huff or puff, and sometimes both combined. The problem here is a long check out line. She might make a general comment like, "Why can't they open any more registers?" She then pauses and waits for an audience. I also ignore cunts like this, because you do not need to be in Target at 3PM buying a gallon of milk, jeans, and a coffee table. Go get your milk at Wawa, and stop spending money on the other useless shit. Here is the deal, you bitch. If they could open more registers, they probably would! People who work in these stores don't want you in the store longer than you have to be. Believe us; if we could let you walk out the door without paying, we would just to get rid of you and your better-than-us attitude. If you were in that much of a hurry, you should budget your time better. Each additional cashier is a cost for the company, and they want to make as much profit as possible. Knowing that you are not going to abandon an entire cart of groceries because there are long lines, the companies got us by the balls. Be fucking happy we have stores with food in them, and you have money to feed your shitty family. You have nothing else to do all day except waste your husband's money with other cackling hens in your neighborhood, so shut up!
C.) I hate kids, well most of them. Every so often you see kids that are well-behaved, which means good parents. You know the kids that sit at a restaurant quietly and smile and laugh all throughout the meal. Those kids are fine; they might even be considered cute. The rest of the monsters deserve to get their voice boxes torn out with rusty ice picks. NOTHING ruins a good meal like hearing a fucking 3 year old scream at full decibel. The useless parents just sit there and try to sssh them. Guess what, that doesn't work anymore than asking it what's wrong. If the shitty kid is that disruptive, you might re-consider bringing it out in public, or at least taking it outdoors to calm it down. Yeah, I know people will give me the "wait until you have kids" shit. Guess what, I do NOT want kids! I do not want to pay for their freeloading asses, I do not want to pay for more college, and I surely do not want to support them until they are 26 and still live at home. Even if I had kids for whatever reason, I would have the common decency to take my child outside, to the car, or to the rest room to calm it down. It is more obnoxious than anything to let a child scream in public. I propose restaurants offer baby or non-baby sections instead of smoking. I would sooner have a 90 year old woman blow Pall Malls in my face during supper than listen to a fucking baby scream. This can be applied anywhere, not just restaurants. From working at Target for 4.5 years, I have heard many shitty kids scream their way through the building. The parents continue to shop as if they are deaf. Perhaps I should scream at my loudest in their ears to see if they like it. Please, leave your shitty kids at home, nobody likes them except you. Nothing about them is cute. It is not cute when a kid throws his drink on the floor, it is not cute when a kid puts crayons in their nose, and it is far from cute when your little kid stands up on the booth and turns around. I do not want your ugly fucking kid looking at me when I am trying to enjoy my $20 steak. A double fuck you goes out to anyone who humors such behavior by talking to the kid when it stands up and turns around at a restaurant.
D.) I hate birthday celebrations in restaurants. Anyone who goes to supper with me knows this well. No matter what restaurant, what time, what day, it is always someone's fucking birthday when I go to eat. Ask Vinny, Tim, or Reinhold, every Wednesday we go to eat there is a birthday. They will sing and clap for a birthday, even if that restaurant doesn't offer the promotion. They will do it because they know I am there. The fucking wait staff needs to stop serving their tables and sing birthday songs like a cancer patient needs a cigarette. When I am parched and dying for a Diet Coke, my waitress is off singing to some 16 year old girl as their friends laugh like it is the first time this was ever done. To make shit worse, every restaurant has their own birthday song complete with clapping and other irritating shit. Apparently the asshole who wrote "Happy Birthday" has it copyrighted, and nobody wants to pay the royalties, so they make their own. Freeloading scumbags will pull off a fake birthday to get a free scoop of ice cream, a sliver of stale cake, and a shitty candle. I would ask for a license after they eat their "free" dessert, and if the birthday does not match, you get charged for the food. That would stop half the problems. Secondly, what kind of scumbag brings anyone to a chain restaurant to celebrate their birthday? How degrading to have the whole restaurant stare at you and some stray assholes clap and cheer for you. Birthdays are depressing enough without having 5 underpaid waitresses at Friday's bring you a scoop of free vanilla ice cream. Next time bring me out a noose, and clap as I put it around my neck and lace it up to the rafters. Right after the first note, someone please pull the chair from my feet.
Originally Posted: 08 March 2006
# posted by Dave Lansing @ 5:54 PM 
