Prudes.
Prudes.
I don't think so, therefore I'm probably not.
*eyetwitch* Do you have any idea how stupid what you just said was? Every gram of fat has 9 calories and every gram of carbs or protein has 4 calories and insoluble fiber isn't digested. By adding those things up you are--wait for it--COUNTING CALORIES.Originally posted by Some person, somewhere else
So now they are just dirt-covered English people in fur pelts with credit cards.
You know, drug store that has a Post Office contract, I understand that you are a hopelessly fucked up store. That's why we stopped getting our prescriptions filled there. But I can't go to another Post Office to pick up my parcel. Neither can the other people who have parcels there. So, really, even for fuck-ups like you, don't you think it's wrong to close the Post Office for an hour lunch break in the middle of a Saturday afternoon in December? Hmm?
Oh God, Rube. That reminds me of the PO in the small town I lived in before this. They were open from 9-4:45 and closed an hour for lunch Monday through Friday. On Saturday, they were open 9-11. Because it was rural service, they only delivered to a few of the houses in town. Everyone else had to go in and get their packages from the office. Meaning that if you had a normal job, it was next to impossible to get your mail.
So now they are just dirt-covered English people in fur pelts with credit cards.
Find something to kick, Orual. Kick it hard!
So now they are just dirt-covered English people in fur pelts with credit cards.
Hey Hawk that ran into my window and broke it: Fuck you. Fuck you very much. I hope it gave you a whopper of a damn headache. Stupid suburban hawk.
Hey work: do you think that maybe, just once, we can work on doing some preventative maintenance on exterior doors and lights in the spring, summer or fall? I'm fairly sure crawling around on hands and knees on top of a solid sheet of ice with a fucking propane torch to make the dock locks work isn't an electrical issue, nor is it any kind of right.
Hey, menfolk of my household: when it is agreed that y'all will take care of the snow and ice, do that. Not a half-assed midway through the snowfall and never get back out there bullshit effort, but actually do it until the job is FINISHED. As in, steps, porch, sidewalk and driveway all thoroughly cleared of y'know, snow and motherfucking ice. Scattered salt or ice melt is acceptable.
Oh, and when you say you'll take care of our friend with cancer and dig out her 3 foot porch and path to her vehicle? Maybe 3 in the afternoon the next day isn't an appropriate time to wander over to see if it's magically melted away!
And furnace? Yeah, you know you're guilty. You can just stop with the cutesy acting up and do your damn job, too!
Grr!
Last edited by Queen Tonya; 13 Dec 2010 at 04:06 PM.
Science flies you to the moon; religion flies you into buildings.
Let it out, QT!!!! You sound like you need it.
Dear Fucking Pedophile Who Tried To Film My Good Friend's Rape,
That was a year of my life I'll never get back, you fucking cock. Everything that happened goes back to you. I lost a job, I lost friends, and I nearly lost my mind because your pretend reality where you weren't doing illegal things behind closed doors brought down a fuck ton of bullshit on the rest of us. So, no. I do not want to be your friend on Facebook. I do not want to speak to you at conventions. I do not want your little minion trying to talk me into forgiving you for dismantling my life so thoroughly. Stay the fuck away from me.
No Love,
Marsilia
So, I'll whisper in the dark, hoping you'll hear me.
P.S.
You are a bad, bad person, and everything in me wants to go all stabby on your face.
So, I'll whisper in the dark, hoping you'll hear me.
P.S.
You are a bad, bad person, and everything in me wants to go all stabby on your face.
So, I'll whisper in the dark, hoping you'll hear me.
I think the double post gremlin agreed with you Marsilia
In the land of the blind, the one-arm man is king.
As well he should...geez, Mars, I'm really sorry.
WTF is it with people thinking Facebook makes bygones be bygones? Fuck that.
I really really want to stab him in the face. Exactly. And, he does this every time he comes across my name for any reason. I friend someone who happened to friend him, he has to try to friend me. One of his friends sees me out in public, he has to try to friend me. As he really is a registered sex offender, I've tried to get him kicked off Facebook, but he keeps popping back up. I'm not sure if he's just lying to them about the charges, or has convinced them that he's being harassed, or what.
So, I'll whisper in the dark, hoping you'll hear me.
Could you maybe report him for harassing you to the actual police? Assuming you have told him to not contact or friend you.
It seems like being a registered sex offender is plenty of reason to not be allowed on Facebook or any other location like it that teens use regularly. What is Facebook's policy on this?
From what I've been able to find, Facebook is pretty lax about getting rid of sex offenders. They've claimed that they're taking an offensive position against them, but while MySpace went through last year and found 90,000 of them and deleted their accounts, Facebook says they've only found around 5,500.
So is it that all the pervs like MySpace better? Doubtful. More likely, Facebook just isn't doing a very good job about it.
So now they are just dirt-covered English people in fur pelts with credit cards.
I can't actually report him for harassment, since the last time I answered the phone when he called was nearly four years ago. I've told several mutual acquaintances that I can't forgive the dishonesty and can't wrap my head around the other stuff he's done. Within the past couple of years, I know of at least one girl (I think she might have been of age) who he got exceedingly drunk, watched her tell one of his friends to quit touching her, then told the would-be rapist to hold on while he got his camera. The man is sick, twisted, and in need of a good face stabbing.
I've found myself wondering if my uncle's lake ever dries out.
So, I'll whisper in the dark, hoping you'll hear me.
Yanno, you're in the fucking snow belt. If you can't drive more than 10 MPH on a road with no traffic, and less than a quarter inch of snow, and plenty of sand: GO SOUTH FOR THE WINTER!!!!!!!!!!!!
OK, I left my package of Christmas gift-cookies on the kitchen table because I was trying to be a nice roommate and share. THIS WAS NOT AN INVITATION FOR ONE OF YOU GREEDY SNATCHPASTRIES TO TAKE THE WHOLE GODS-BEDAMNED PACKAGE.
I only got 2 frigging cookies!
Dear Evening Standard, I don't mind if a puzzle has multiple solutions. I do mind if you have misprinted the problem so it has NO LOGICAL SOLUTION WHATSOEVER giving me a headache as I try to solve an impossibility.
In the land of the blind, the one-arm man is king.
Sleep.
Oh sleep.
Sleep, you fucking bastard.
Why won't you come to me?
Dear Seventy-Five Degrees Fahrenheit,
Why are you not warmer than this? My feet and hands are freezing, and I was having muscle spasms last night that I think were because my body forgot how to not shiver. Please, stop being so cold.
No love,
Me.
So, I'll whisper in the dark, hoping you'll hear me.
Seriously? Did y'all forget that it gets cold here? You're not allowed to complain about the cold if you're not going to wear a coat.
So, I'll whisper in the dark, hoping you'll hear me.
It's bad when your initial mental response to every new task your boss throws at you is "lick my balls", especially when you don't actually have balls, right?
The canteen has run out of bottles of Coca Cola.
This is an emergency, someone get me some Coca Cola now, and I don't mean Diet.
In the land of the blind, the one-arm man is king.
I have a headache, and Monday was not kind. Tuesday had better be better.
The bus heater partially melted my backpack. Not cool.
It rained all weekend. Again.
And it was cold and grey.
Can we have some sunshine please.
In the land of the blind, the one-arm man is king.
Dentist Office: When you give me a "courtesy call" about and upcoming appointment, shouting in the phone and blowing out my eardrum is not a "courtesy".
If I wanted to be yelled at over the phone, I'd call my mother.
Hey boss, this unflappibility that makes me a good person to toss extra projects at -- I guess you figure that means I'll remain unflappable when you never give me anything that I ask for from you?
Anxiety blows goats. That is all.
My two favourite puzzles in the Evening Standard have been replaced by scrabblegrams.
Bastards.
In the land of the blind, the one-arm man is king.
Seriously, dude. You can give me the title, the author, and a freaking page-by-page synopsis. I still need to know who the order is for, and that IS NOT PRINTED ON YOUR MEMBER CARD!!!!
So, I'll whisper in the dark, hoping you'll hear me.
OK, seriously, like: My mother, my kid, my clients, all of you: The phone carries sound. YOU DON'T HAVE TO SHOUT INTO IT!
IT IS NEVER GOING TO STOP FUCKING RAINING AND IF I AM PREVENTED FROM DOING LAUNDRY TONIGHT I WILL GO ON A TRI-STATE KILLING SPREE.
Also, if you say you need me to do a bunch of printing for you, because you're going to pick it up at 9:30, and you STILL HAVEN'T BOTHERED TO COME GET YOUR SHIT by 11:30, I should be allowed to stab you to death with paperclips. And throw your shit out the window.
Congratulations on trying to cause fear and concern by saying that radiation from Japan has now reached Scotland.
If only the amount itself was not really, really miniscule and have very little effect.
Idiot reporting at its finest.
In the land of the blind, the one-arm man is king.
OK, is everybody who knows me going on Mellophant, figuring out my IRL identity, realizing that yelling into the phone annoys me, AND DECIDING TO YELL AS MUCH AS THEY CAN?
I can't take my 4-year-old anywhere because he WON'T STAND STILL and he WON'T FOLLOW WHERE I'M GOING IF HE WANTS TO GO SOMEPLACE ELSE. It's making COMPLETELY INSANE.
ME =
Last edited by Sarahfeena; 29 Mar 2011 at 04:06 PM.
actually, as a conservative christian..I'm really OK with someone being queer...as long as they don't HAVE GAY SEX. The bible says nothing about your sexual tendencies, it only talks about your ACTIONS. So stop uphill farming, you welsh bastards, and you can still go to heaven.
Have you considered getting the kid a leash? Some of them are sort of cute.