eight eight i forget was eight was for
Here's my rant, which I guess can be part of Fuck Off and Die Thursdays.
1. To the guy in the hallway today: Dude, I know you're not thin. I'm not thin myself. But when you walk with two other not-thin people such as yourself, don't fucking walk abreast down the hallway, as slow and molasses in January in upstate New York (keeping in mind that some people are in the midst of summer in January), thereby preventing people who walk at a normal pace, albeit with a broken foot, to pass you or, I don't know, get to their fucking meetings on time.
2. To the two bitches behind me on Sunday's flight: I don't care how wasted you got last night, or who you fucked, or how you *really* want those Manolo Blahniks but can't afford them, or how you are watching "Sex and the City" in DVD, or how Charlotte at work said she wanted to move to Texas and you didn't know that about Charlotte. Just please, for the love of FSM, KEEP YOUR FUCKING VOICE DOWN. When I'm not yet at 10,000 feet and therefore can't turn my iPod on, I want peace and quiet.
3. To my ex-roommate: Stop fucking calling me.
4. To Delta: The fact that a seat in COACH will cost me an extra $650, on TOP of the $50 change ticket fee and the $250 I already spent on a ticket, makes me wonder why you aren't already bankrupt. The seat is empty. I would've paid $100 to get on it. Instead, you're out $100.
5. To my brain: Please try to get organized. And stop fucking up on Orangina. And the socks you were making. And everything else.
1. To the guy in the hallway today: Dude, I know you're not thin. I'm not thin myself. But when you walk with two other not-thin people such as yourself, don't fucking walk abreast down the hallway, as slow and molasses in January in upstate New York (keeping in mind that some people are in the midst of summer in January), thereby preventing people who walk at a normal pace, albeit with a broken foot, to pass you or, I don't know, get to their fucking meetings on time.
2. To the two bitches behind me on Sunday's flight: I don't care how wasted you got last night, or who you fucked, or how you *really* want those Manolo Blahniks but can't afford them, or how you are watching "Sex and the City" in DVD, or how Charlotte at work said she wanted to move to Texas and you didn't know that about Charlotte. Just please, for the love of FSM, KEEP YOUR FUCKING VOICE DOWN. When I'm not yet at 10,000 feet and therefore can't turn my iPod on, I want peace and quiet.
3. To my ex-roommate: Stop fucking calling me.
4. To Delta: The fact that a seat in COACH will cost me an extra $650, on TOP of the $50 change ticket fee and the $250 I already spent on a ticket, makes me wonder why you aren't already bankrupt. The seat is empty. I would've paid $100 to get on it. Instead, you're out $100.
5. To my brain: Please try to get organized. And stop fucking up on Orangina. And the socks you were making. And everything else.
posted by itgirl at 4:20 PM
1 Comments:
Speaking of Fuck off and Die, guess whose ex-boyfriend from 4 years ago decides to post on present boyfriend's forum alot of nasty and mean things about me, 4 years out of date? It rhymes with Ahhhhahhahhhahhhdrew.
Completely unprovoked, out of nowhere.
Wtf?
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