Let me begin this post by thanking a fellow blogger Tom Nardone for reminding me why I started this blog. Thank you Tom. You are right, the world is full of shitheads, and I need to get back to bringing them in front of the public, to keep the spotlight on their shitheadedness (how’s that for a curse word!). Check out Tom’s blog at:
As Tom reminded me, this planet is polluted with shitheads. Lately though, it’s occurred to me that we have become so acclimated to them, that many of us may not even recognize them when we see them. To help out, I’ve created a handy dandy little guide you can use to help identify these individuals, and inform them that they are in fact, part of the problem. Let’s get started, shall we?
1. The loud cell phone talker. You know this fucktard. It’s the guy (or girl) that has to scream into his cellphone so that everyone on the planet can hear his side of the conversation. Unless you are talking to Marlee Matlin, Leslie Nielson, or Helen Fucking Keller, stop screaming. I don’t give a shit about your buddy getting so wasted the other night. Neither does anyone else in the western hemisphere. (I know what you’re thinking, and yes; Leslie Nielson was deaf.)
2. Mr. (or Ms.) “You let the guy in front of me merge, so I’m going too”. Yes idiot, I did let him merge. I understand the basic traffic principle of 1-and-1. You obviously don’t. Now I have to follow your fucking Mercedes to wherever you are going, so I can key it with the word “Shithead”. Thanks. I was just hoping to take a side trip from wherever the hell I was going originally to deal with you. That’s great. Thanks.
3.Mr. (or Ms.) “I have six carts full of shit in the express checkout lane”. (You and the guy from number 4 are both getting kicked in the balls the next time we meet.) Obviously, this guy or girl can’t fucking read, or at the very least understand the number 10. I was behind a lady at Micheal’s (a craft shop) one day that had bought almost a hundred spools of thread, and was in the express lane. When she noticed that I was looking at her like she’d just wiped her nose on my sleeve, she said “What? It’s all the same, Technically, it’s one item, just divided up.” I have three simple questions for you: 1. What planet do you live on where bullshit like that works? 2. If I chopped your head off and dismembered you, shouldn’t I get away with it (it’s all the same, just divided up.) and 3. What the fuck are you going to do with that much thread? Are you starting your own fabric company? (See what I did there? Two questions, from the same thought, but divided up. I counted it as 1 question. It didn’t fucking work, did it?)
4. Mr. AND Ms. “Makeout Wherever”. Look, I’m all for sharing the love. Really, that’s an awesome idea, it really is. Unfortunately, “Share the Love” does not mean two trashy ass people that look like they’ve left their trailer park before putting on “public” clothes making out in the middle of the mall, or more likely, Wal-Mart. Those two kids with you are proof that your genetics are fucked up, and you need to quit reproducing. Stop getting yourself worked up, or it’s just going to keep getting worse. Seriously, look at those little bastards, they’re getting worse every time. It’s like making photocopies of photocopies on a dirty photocopier.
5. The Analyst. Possibly, more appropriately, “The Analist”. This is the prick or whatever the hell a female prick is, that has to contradict everything everyone says, because they know everything. These conversations go like this:
Me: “Our public schools are really going to have to get better standards if we want to compete with the educations kids in Europe and Asia are getting.”
The Analist: “Actually, it is quite fair to even compare the two. Generally speaking the way our school systems are structured…blah blah blah.”
Me: “Hey! Look over there! It’s Elvis!”
The Analist: “What? Where? I can’t….” <punched in the throat>
Me: “You’re a shithead.” <Get up and leave.>
I absolutely hate these people. I seem to come into contact with them on a daily basis. I really feel like it would be in the best interest of the world for me to tell them to shut the hell up. Just shut it. Nobody wants to hear their shit.
6. Mr. (or Ms.) “I just bough a new car that costs 40 thousand dollars too much for where I live”. I want to hurt these people in a way that would make Stephen King cringe. They go out, and buy the most expensive fucking car they can find, park it at the far end of the parking lot, taking up two or more spaces so it doesn’t get bumped by a neighboring car door. When driving, they turn off the highway or road at about a half mile per hour. Apparently that expensive ass car doesn’t corner well. If you’re going to worry that fucking much about it, don’t buy it. After all, it is still just a vehicle.
As always, this isn’t an all-inclusive list, but they are the ones on my nerves tonight. Who irritates the fuck out of you? Leave a comment, and we’ll discuss.