hey im new to this so sorry if i fuk it up :D jus found this community while looking for one where i can be rele rele pissed off :@ how many people here have people that just dont know when to give up? ARGHH some kid keeps givin it sayin i take pics with my top off cos i wanna impress other girls when ive got 1 :/ er not really i jus take them cos ive got a 6 pack and whats the point of havin it if no1 sees it? His such a bellend he gives it on msn but he'd never be lary to my face, his a pussy hole. Anyone else know someone like this? I wanna hit him but my gf is mates with him and don't want me to and thats jus what he wants :@ to break me and her up cos he fancies her :@ if anyone else knows someon like this write back =] ty
THANK YOU, o wanky forum poster, for behaving like such a whiny twit this morning and thereby causing a moderating mix-up behind the scenes. I was going to write today, but thanks to you my focus is shot to hell.
And for Pete's sake, get thee to a shrink and work out your MPD issues.
Two e-mails in one day is a bit excessive, don't you think? That makes 4 total, since Thursday. I guess they think that since Maggie's over a week old, it's fine for them to be bugging me. The only "good" thing is that they haven't resorted to calling me on the phone...yet.
Plot-What-Plot does not, under any circumstances, mean Characterisation-What-Characterisation. Nor does it mean Dialogue-What-Dialogue. Please stop sacrificing characters for the sake of a sex scene, it's tiring and sad.
Oh, and the word smut is a bit gross.
I don't think we're on the right track, but since my political views are strong and might cause offence, that's all I have to say.
Love (mostly), Katie
Dear Sports Stores,
Turkey did not make the World Cup. I know it's shocking and hard to understand, but guess what? Australia did. Please stop stocking Turkey national memorobelia and start stocking the Green and Gold.
No love, the whinging bitch over in the sports department
I could really, really do with a full night's sleep.
No love, Katie
The Da Vinci Code is a work of fiction and in the end, in the Grand Scheme of Things, no one but the Catholic Church and Dan Brown really cares. Please stop flooding me with Tom Hanks news, and how the critics hate it. People are going to see the movie, anyway.
Dear Paul McCartney
The media had nothing to do with the break up of your marriage. I love you, but did you really, truly think that would ever work? Seriously?
You see that sign over the toll booth, the one that says "EZ-PASS ONLY"? Where on it does it say, "Except on Tuesdays"? Please do not be backing your big-ass pickup into my wee Volkswagen just because you're too stupid to make sure you're in the right lane *before* you enter the booth. In case you haven't noticed, there are cars comng up behind me at 60 mph and I don't care to be turned into a human accordion. Just sit your ass in that booth and let all the other drivers and the booth attendants point at you and laugh until an attendant takes pity on you and raises the gate.
Please stop barfing when I'm at the bookstore. Feel free to barf all you want when Andrew's working.
* * *
Dear fruit of my loins,
Please do your Reading homework. I'm tired of getting notes from your teacher informing me that you haven't been prepared for class. Just because the assignment doesn't involve dragons doesn't give you a free pass.
* * *
Dear Old Man Winter,
I'd like a refund, please. I specifically ordered a winter with cold weather and occasional frozen precipitation, not 60 degrees and bright sunshine.
One would think that, since I demonstrated my faith and loyalty to you last night by re-upping my paid account and extra userpics for 6 months, you would return the favor by sending me comment notifications.
Until then, I had been getting them intermittently and sporadically, but at least I had been getting them. Ever since I dug into my pockets and between the sofa cushions to fork over $21 to you, I haven't been getting ANY comment notifications. NONE AT ALL.
I no longer care what it is you think you're going through, there is no justification for treating people the way you did on Saturday evening. To then write me and my husband an email laying the blame entirely at our door and sending it to our work addresses, when clearly this is a private matter, is honestly the last straw.
Screw you, buddy. Hang out with your friends, then... seeing as your social life is so happening that you obviously always have somewhere to be, I guess you don't need us to take you out.
I don't care if you're my brother in law or not, if you act like a complete and utter baboon, of course we're going to prefer hanging out with our friends.
Please go away. We don't open until 10, as the sign right in front of you clearly says, and it is only 9:35. The mere fact that you've been coming by here every 5 minutes since I got here at 9:15 to rattle at the door some more only makes me want to open late.
To my brain/body:
Why do you insist on getting a second wind at a quarter to midnight, when you know full well I have to be up 6 hours later? It's very difficult to work on my NaNo project when I have to staple my eyelids open. Please let me go to sleep at a decent hour, just once.
(Except Thursday night, when I need to be able to stay awake to see "Goblet of Fire" at midnight. You can get all the second winds you want then.)
I'm so cross that I had to go and buy chocolate. Honestly!
Royal mail left a slip saying they had tried to deliver a parcel that was too big to go through the letter box when we were out. It had a number to call to get the parcel redelivered and an address where you could collect the parcel. You had to claim it within three weeks, else it'd be sent back.
Fair enough. However, the phoneline was always engaged. I tried loads of times. Finally I got through to an answering machine, gave my details, and requested the parcel be redelivered.
Nothing. I kept trying to get in contact - no luck.
So today, faced with losing the parcel altogether, I set off to collect it. The Royal Mail depot isn't all that far away from where we are, but I'm horrid at directions, so it was with some trepidation I set off.
I found the industrial estate easily enough. However, when they give you the address as the Industrial Estate, they DO NOT mention where the hell on the mammoth, labyrinthine industrial estate it is to be found. I walked up and down this long stretch of road, going into all the parks off it - past warehouse after warehouse. I got to the bottom, then back up to the top again. So I asked at the Snack van in a lay by. Followed directions and came upon some some workers in a very noisy garage. Followed their directions and got back to the far end of the estate. Someone asked me for directions. Finally got to the depot, walked in the wrong bit so had to go round, and collected the long-awaited parcel. It was from one of the Amazon marketplace people.
It was quite big, but very light (only one small book in it). As I began to walk back, the wind was in my face and the parcel was quite unwieldy because of the wind resistance. Knowing it was only a book I opened it, getting a cardboard cut as I did. (Like a paper cut but with more blood.) Unfortunately I had to take my gloves off to open it. Once the book was extracted (small enough to fit in my coat pocket, despite being in a parcel too big to fit through an envelope), I realised that I had dropped one of my gloves. And it was very windy. I retraced my steps, but couldn't find it.
I was seething, and went to the little shop down the road on my way home and spent the last of my change on chocolate. I got halfway through the Mars bar and now feel very sick.
I know, I know, a silly and inconsequential thing to rant about in this much detail, but it made me so cross and wasted two hours of my morning. GRRRRR.