- 57 bus, you are the bane of my existence. Well, at least right before 8 a.m. as I travel down Wornall Road on my way to work every day, you are. When you stop at 55th and Wornall to let the little old guy with the gray beard on the bus (or you wait a second for him if he isn’t there…), I want to get out of my car, climb on top of you, and stomp on you a lot. Pisser of a bus! God bless the Navigator that was between you and me this morning for turning right on 57th Street. This gave me the freedom to do what I’ve been longing to do for a long time now…I was able to go around you in the left hand turn lane (I know! I know! I’m bad…), and continue on my path to work without being delayed for another 2 minutes, like I usually am if I stay behind you. So FUCK YOU 57 BUS! I got the better of your ass this morning, fucker! Mwahahahahahahahaha!!!
- On Saturday night, I climbed into bed, and looked with disgust at my bedside table. I have several books piled there that I have been looking forward to reading for quite a while. They were all topped by the book I was currently reading, which was keeping me from being able to move on to the others in a swift manner, like I prefer to do.
Madame Bovary, I couldn’t care LESS about your trite, stupid, BORING-ASS existence! (Fictional though it may be…) I don’t understand what was so "scandalous" about you when Flaubert managed to get you published back in 1857, and I certainly don’t find you scandalous now. I’m so grateful I didn’t have to read you in college, I could cry. You’re whiny and annoying and depressing and GAH!!! I don’t like you one bit. Why did you marry the old Charles dude, huh? And how could you not see Rodolphe for the asshole that he was? Oh…wait. Maybe it’s because YOU’RE RETARDED?? That has to be it.
Anyway, you won’t be holding me back from the books I actually look forward to reading any more, bitch. I canned your ass when I only had about 85 pages left to go, because I DON’T CARE ANYMORE!!! HA! How do you like THEM apples, eh? Fuckin’ A…
- I go grocery shopping about once or twice a week, depending on the amount of money I have and my need for groceries, of course. I frequently visit one of 3 different supermarkets, and have lately noticed that a general malaise has come over most all of the other patrons that visit these same supermarkets. Carts being left in the middle of aisles as they go off looking for items is a frequent occurrence. Blocking large sections of shelves while chatting with people they’ve run into, and allowing their children to run amuck is another. And I ran into an entirely new breed of asshat one day a couple of weeks ago when I needed some apples. This woman was bagging about 20 – 30 apples, it seemed, which was absolutely ridiculous, and shouldn’t be allowed. It shouldn’t be allowed because (a) she was in front of those apples for at least 7 minutes picking and choosing over the apples in a somewhat careful manner, and (b) she was picking through all the Fuji’s, and those are the only kinds of apples I eat. I had to circle the produce department at least 5 times before she finally moved on, and I think she only did that because I abandoned the circling at one point, and just decided to stand there next to her and wait for her to move her ass out of the way. I was really quite annoyed.
On another day not so long ago, I was in search of some frozen Asian items to satisfy my sort of sudden desire for spring rolls and something dumpling-like. (I say "sort of sudden" because, on average, I would prefer Asian food to any other food I eat, so it’s not all that unusual for me to desire something spring roll and dumpling-like each day. But every once in a while I don’t crave Asian food. Those are the days I crave Mexican food.) I was unable to find any kind of frozen Asian yumminess at the local Price Chopper (where they seem to think that people only want frozen pizzas, Lean Cuisines, and ice cream…) so I headed off to Wild Oats when I was done with the Price Chopper randomness. While I was perusing the frozen cases for the appropriate Asian snack, I felt a woman brush by me from behind, which I felt was a bit unnecessary given the space we had, but whatev. I moved on. About 5 seconds later, though, I heard someone say, "Coming through!" and turned just in time to see a very tall man with a nappy, long, gray beard barreling toward me with his cart. I pressed myself up against the cooler I was in front of in time to avoid having any skin removed from my ass by this guy’s cart as he rolled past me, and then I stared at him as he stopped on the other side of me and chatted with the chick that had brushed past me a few seconds before. He was oblivious, which wasn’t a major shock, but I was just amazed! "Coming through"??? What have we come to where we yell out warnings rather than offering a simple, "pardon me" or "excuse me" as we attempt to pass people in the market with our carts/baskets? I understand that the aisles in Wild Oats aren’t exactly standard size, and this one in particular had items stacked in the center of it which they were trying to sell, and that made the aisle even more narrow, but you’d THINK that’d make this guy a bit more cautious, no? Apparently not. And it was despicable behavior. Coming through, my ass. Fucking hippy bastard…
So those are my rants for the day. Well, besides the fact that I’ve actually been building those rants up for a couple of weeks now, so really they’re my rants for the month, probly. Take away whatever lesson you can from them, and go forth and be a better person for it. Congratulations on your personal growth.