who the fuck dots their fucking 'i's with a fucking circle?!
yes. we are going to tarintino this story. now that you know the ending of it....
so i started my first class on the ground campus last night (as opposed to online). and being the nieve sam that i am- i went in there thinking that im surrounded by adults. no awkwardness or moronic behaviour... i mean- it was a fucking math class. a math class! what the fuck kind of shinnigans would i face?! .....apparently a lot.....
the instructor decided that due to the school's policy it would be a novel idea to have us divide into groups for the entire term to assist each other.... with math, i guess... and im cool with that. cuz chances are that i would A- really really suck at this and will be in dire need of assistance or B- exchange numbers with each other for formalities sake and feel safe about throwing the number out after class. so we pass around the sheets of paper jotting down out own contact shit (i lucked out. i still have a texas number). then i get a peice of paper handed to me. with all the fucking 'i's in the contact information not as humble little dots. no. this fucker was that LOUD jerk that you've always want to punch in the head. big ass circles to dot the 'i's. it looked like a skrawny little man with a huge fucking cranium. i was afraid that fucker was gonna fall off the page. i quickly looked up at my team mates to figure out which fuck did this. we are a team of two boys and two girls. luckily for me- i had taken a critical thinking course a few months back, so with my power of deductive thinking- i knew it would able to solve the mystery of the duchebage 'i's....
so one by one i eliminated people from my team. it could not have been the guy next to me cuz i saw his handwriting (and he really doesn't seem to be the type to make happy circles). and i know i sure as fuck couldn't have documented something so idiotic... that just leaves the other guy and the other girl... i decided that i would need more assistance on this issue. i skimmed my paper again.... the name with the outlandish 'i's is a Keri. FUCK! how dare they carry a unisex name! fucking fuck fuck!!! wait a minute- ..........boys don't have their names ending with an 'i' unless they're fruity and changed it to look nifty... it had to be the other girl in the group.
really, ma'am? really? are you fucking me, 'Keri'?! seriously?! you're a grown ass woman! KNOCK IT OFF! what the fuck?! you think this is fucking middle school?! where you can just go around making your 'i' aesthically pleasing for everyone?! well guess what? they're not! and you suck! a lot!
....i learned a valuable lesson that night: avoid group projects at any cost, at any age.
the more you know.
11.12.06
why yes, this is a fecal matter.
not sure about everyone else- but i for one get extremely nervious behind a truck that has a porter potty strapped onto it.
like many- my initial thought is that there is probably still much matter within the potty and those harnesses never seem sturdy enough. i don't care if the potty hits my fast approaching vehicle. my greatest conserns in the end (pun) is really being covered in it. and that leaves for a sad sam.
a friend of mine was in the car with me when this happened. we decided that chances are that they must've emptied out the porter potties before loading them up. personally, if i were to be a lazy person (which i can/will be), i would've just loading it on and fucked the cleaning out part. then it was brought to my attention that it's not just mass in there, but volume as well. so we imagined it can get pretty heavy lifting that fucker up when it's full. granted, each one would vary in weight.... i mean, i guess it would depend on which site it was located at and calculate in what types of resturants are near by, if anyone's got the runs, etc....
in the end, we concluded that porter potties are like snowflakes. large plastic blue snowflakes. granted all seem the same... but up close (be sure to mouth breathe)- each one is more different than the last.
like many- my initial thought is that there is probably still much matter within the potty and those harnesses never seem sturdy enough. i don't care if the potty hits my fast approaching vehicle. my greatest conserns in the end (pun) is really being covered in it. and that leaves for a sad sam.
a friend of mine was in the car with me when this happened. we decided that chances are that they must've emptied out the porter potties before loading them up. personally, if i were to be a lazy person (which i can/will be), i would've just loading it on and fucked the cleaning out part. then it was brought to my attention that it's not just mass in there, but volume as well. so we imagined it can get pretty heavy lifting that fucker up when it's full. granted, each one would vary in weight.... i mean, i guess it would depend on which site it was located at and calculate in what types of resturants are near by, if anyone's got the runs, etc....
in the end, we concluded that porter potties are like snowflakes. large plastic blue snowflakes. granted all seem the same... but up close (be sure to mouth breathe)- each one is more different than the last.
8.12.06
extrastupid=genious
on my way to work yet again on a friday morning. and before i start my word tangent, let me begin with a mini tangent....
why the fuck do you people get so god damn excited about it being friday?? or even if it's thursday, you have to get excited that tomorrow is friday. it's not like you've got anything huge planned for the weekend or even if you're really doing anything on friday. for each thursday afternoon or friday morning i have to hear about how wonderful friday is i will have to punch someone in the head for saying it. so unless it's about five minutes until i get off of work for the weekend or if you're stating how remarkable saturday is- don't bother speaking to me about your basterd friday.
so with that off my chest- what the fuck is up with the word 'extraordinary'? here's the thing, it's two words. extra and ordinary. if something is to be ordinary, it's banal or mundane.... boring even. so one would think that is something in EXTRA ordinary it's even more banal or mundane, and as the afore mentioned- extra boring. but it means that it's remarkable and wonderful. seriously with that logic, if i called someone extrastupid it would mean that they are a fucking genious. and trust me- i've actually called people extra stupid and meant nothing close to it. so if you are for the word extraordinary- then contgrats, you must be extrastupid as well.
why the fuck do you people get so god damn excited about it being friday?? or even if it's thursday, you have to get excited that tomorrow is friday. it's not like you've got anything huge planned for the weekend or even if you're really doing anything on friday. for each thursday afternoon or friday morning i have to hear about how wonderful friday is i will have to punch someone in the head for saying it. so unless it's about five minutes until i get off of work for the weekend or if you're stating how remarkable saturday is- don't bother speaking to me about your basterd friday.
so with that off my chest- what the fuck is up with the word 'extraordinary'? here's the thing, it's two words. extra and ordinary. if something is to be ordinary, it's banal or mundane.... boring even. so one would think that is something in EXTRA ordinary it's even more banal or mundane, and as the afore mentioned- extra boring. but it means that it's remarkable and wonderful. seriously with that logic, if i called someone extrastupid it would mean that they are a fucking genious. and trust me- i've actually called people extra stupid and meant nothing close to it. so if you are for the word extraordinary- then contgrats, you must be extrastupid as well.
28.11.06
are you a jackass? check yes or no.
when i was living in texas, i worked at a starbucks. now- i've always seen on tv that egocentric morons go to coffee shops such as starbucks and chat it up with other egocentric morons about idiotic nonsense. .......i always thought it was a myth until that one faithful day.....
i just started my shift. went to my classes in the morning and did the work thing in the evenings. i had an especially frustrating day cuz my instructor didn't like my thumbsnails for a project and he was so fucking long winded when he did lectures. seriously, the entire four hours of class, i debated about jamming the h2 pencil in my eye just so i could be excused. he was like one of those 'cult seminar' teachers. you know the kind- 'you can leave whenever you'd like (as long as you make a legitimate excuse to the ENTIRE class as to why you must leave early... let me adjust the spotlight on you so that the entire room can see you better)'. that fucker....
so about an hour into my shift these two guys walk in. nicely dressed, step out of a bmw. as if they just stepped out of a leasurely meeting with some high-end clients. they order their drinks (of course it's a dopio (double espresso shots) and a dry cuppacino (mostly foam...airated milk, really.....yes. he paid money for air) and gave me a shitty 17 cent tip. this 17 cents came from the $10 i broke for that fucker.
after their generous gratuity, they sit outside for a smoke. then my manager comes running out with something about the corporate guy coming in to visit today and the parking lot was in DIRE need of a sweeping from the collection of cigarette butts sprinkled between the cars. so i go outside- apron and all with my broom and dust collecter thing and do my share of the janitorial services required from a barista of my calibur. (fuck, it's better than the bathrooms.... one time i had to wipe the walls in the men's room with a little towel.... the thing went from white to a dirty yellow in seconds...... what the fuck are guys doing in there?! are they peeing by sonar?! 'i just keep goen til i hear water....' i tell you- im one step closer to becoming a lesbian...) so im sweeping up around them and by this time a young lady has joined them and they're chaten it up about work and politic, etc.... it was a fairly intelligable conversation until the dopio guy decided to open his mouth... and i swear to god this is what he said,
dipio jackass: guys hey, wait a minute. i just thought of something. this is brilliant- men date women because they are attracted to beauty, whereas women date men because they are attracted to success.
and get this- the other two agreed with him as if he's fucking dr. phil!
i so badly wanted to pull up a chair and chime in with,
barista sam: no way- guys, listen to this. cars go fast when you hit the right square, whereas if you hit the left square- the slow down........... whoa............
in the end, i like my coffee houses like i like my ricky martin music videos: with the mute button on.
i just started my shift. went to my classes in the morning and did the work thing in the evenings. i had an especially frustrating day cuz my instructor didn't like my thumbsnails for a project and he was so fucking long winded when he did lectures. seriously, the entire four hours of class, i debated about jamming the h2 pencil in my eye just so i could be excused. he was like one of those 'cult seminar' teachers. you know the kind- 'you can leave whenever you'd like (as long as you make a legitimate excuse to the ENTIRE class as to why you must leave early... let me adjust the spotlight on you so that the entire room can see you better)'. that fucker....
so about an hour into my shift these two guys walk in. nicely dressed, step out of a bmw. as if they just stepped out of a leasurely meeting with some high-end clients. they order their drinks (of course it's a dopio (double espresso shots) and a dry cuppacino (mostly foam...airated milk, really.....yes. he paid money for air) and gave me a shitty 17 cent tip. this 17 cents came from the $10 i broke for that fucker.
after their generous gratuity, they sit outside for a smoke. then my manager comes running out with something about the corporate guy coming in to visit today and the parking lot was in DIRE need of a sweeping from the collection of cigarette butts sprinkled between the cars. so i go outside- apron and all with my broom and dust collecter thing and do my share of the janitorial services required from a barista of my calibur. (fuck, it's better than the bathrooms.... one time i had to wipe the walls in the men's room with a little towel.... the thing went from white to a dirty yellow in seconds...... what the fuck are guys doing in there?! are they peeing by sonar?! 'i just keep goen til i hear water....' i tell you- im one step closer to becoming a lesbian...) so im sweeping up around them and by this time a young lady has joined them and they're chaten it up about work and politic, etc.... it was a fairly intelligable conversation until the dopio guy decided to open his mouth... and i swear to god this is what he said,
dipio jackass: guys hey, wait a minute. i just thought of something. this is brilliant- men date women because they are attracted to beauty, whereas women date men because they are attracted to success.
and get this- the other two agreed with him as if he's fucking dr. phil!
i so badly wanted to pull up a chair and chime in with,
barista sam: no way- guys, listen to this. cars go fast when you hit the right square, whereas if you hit the left square- the slow down........... whoa............
in the end, i like my coffee houses like i like my ricky martin music videos: with the mute button on.
fucking tsa....
so let me start by restating the 'fucking tsa' part.
.....fucking tsa.....
alrighty- so i have to flight every few months to texas to visit family. Personally, I'd prefer to go if it were for a funeral, but optomism aside.... i still have to go.
and here's the thing- i fucking HATE flying. seriously, i'd rather go fuck a sheep than fly. for those of you that don't get the big picture, im brown. and not south of the border brown- but horrible xena warrior crys brown. and i'll say it- i get nervious getting on a plane when i know there's another brown guy taken that same flight. it's like, 'hey buddy.... it's okay to have one of us here, but two's a little suspicious...' my job requires me to communicate over the phone- i sound like a fucking white girl. i can get away with being 'sally smith' and no one's the wiser.... but here- no. they see you're brown and you're fucked.....
so as usual- im running late. i get there with about twenty minutes before the plane leave, i get my ticket at the front desk put my shit down and bolt for the gate. i get to the gate (with a wonderful trail of sweat behind me) and the woman pulls out a highlighter and marks up my ticket like a fucking five year old that thinks it's bad ass to color outside the lines. as soon as i saw the highlighter i think to myself 'fuck... there is only bad to follow this'. and thanks to my phycic ability, i was right. i get to the covery belt to drop off my carry-ons and shoes when i meet our wonderful tsa. and this guy is fucking huge! he looks like he just got out of the marines, so i think to myself, 'sally, you're fucked,' as i walk through the metal detectors. this guy looks me up and down as he furrowed his bush of an eyebrow and seriously with the most stern face as he can possibley make says that he has to search my shit. and im like, that's cool- have at it. so we go over to the little station to look through my shit... non brown people looking at me, getting nervious (...i did like that part...) as they grab their belongings. then the awkard silence hit as they look through my bags. (to which i realized that i carry entirely too much shit with me) so i try to exchange in some pleasentries. and here is the exact conversation we had.
me: so... how's it goen?
tsa: 'grunt'
me: yeah.... so uhhh.... (chuckle) am i getting searched cuz im brown?
totally innocent, i meant it as a joke. ya know, to break up the monotonous silence. then this guy looks up stares me dead in the eyes and says,
tsa: if you really want to know the answer to that question, you will have to call the airline.
me: ............so.......... it is because im brown?
needless to say, they didn't find any bombs.
.....fucking tsa.....
alrighty- so i have to flight every few months to texas to visit family. Personally, I'd prefer to go if it were for a funeral, but optomism aside.... i still have to go.
and here's the thing- i fucking HATE flying. seriously, i'd rather go fuck a sheep than fly. for those of you that don't get the big picture, im brown. and not south of the border brown- but horrible xena warrior crys brown. and i'll say it- i get nervious getting on a plane when i know there's another brown guy taken that same flight. it's like, 'hey buddy.... it's okay to have one of us here, but two's a little suspicious...' my job requires me to communicate over the phone- i sound like a fucking white girl. i can get away with being 'sally smith' and no one's the wiser.... but here- no. they see you're brown and you're fucked.....
so as usual- im running late. i get there with about twenty minutes before the plane leave, i get my ticket at the front desk put my shit down and bolt for the gate. i get to the gate (with a wonderful trail of sweat behind me) and the woman pulls out a highlighter and marks up my ticket like a fucking five year old that thinks it's bad ass to color outside the lines. as soon as i saw the highlighter i think to myself 'fuck... there is only bad to follow this'. and thanks to my phycic ability, i was right. i get to the covery belt to drop off my carry-ons and shoes when i meet our wonderful tsa. and this guy is fucking huge! he looks like he just got out of the marines, so i think to myself, 'sally, you're fucked,' as i walk through the metal detectors. this guy looks me up and down as he furrowed his bush of an eyebrow and seriously with the most stern face as he can possibley make says that he has to search my shit. and im like, that's cool- have at it. so we go over to the little station to look through my shit... non brown people looking at me, getting nervious (...i did like that part...) as they grab their belongings. then the awkard silence hit as they look through my bags. (to which i realized that i carry entirely too much shit with me) so i try to exchange in some pleasentries. and here is the exact conversation we had.
me: so... how's it goen?
tsa: 'grunt'
me: yeah.... so uhhh.... (chuckle) am i getting searched cuz im brown?
totally innocent, i meant it as a joke. ya know, to break up the monotonous silence. then this guy looks up stares me dead in the eyes and says,
tsa: if you really want to know the answer to that question, you will have to call the airline.
me: ............so.......... it is because im brown?
needless to say, they didn't find any bombs.
all employees must wash hands before self-hatred.
i am now one of them. them. i am now a fucking online student. bust out the dunce caps and tiny stools to face the corners.
for those of your that know me from work, understand that my roots stem from supporting students with their online resources. I did this for a little over a year......yes. 365 days of my life speaking to those who are legally retarded. assisting with navigation to the site where it's pretty self explanitory, but somehow lack of reading on their own still a mystery to most. here's some background, the online books have a drm protection on them. these drms are only supported by internet explorer on a window's envoirnment due to adobe reader. no firefox. as far as downloading your books with the drm, firefox should be dead to you.
so here i am, like most students, with access to my reading materials a few days prior to the actual course starting. im on a mac. i normally use firefox. safari or opera are generally backups for me. so im using firefox to go through the site, make sure i download whatever i need. and i find myself.... attempting to download my online book (with drm protection, mind you) using firefox... the best part is that i invested a good ten minutes trien to figure out why it won't download. then it hit me- i've finally become all that i've hated. i've finally become a student.
thanks god, you tease you...........
for those of your that know me from work, understand that my roots stem from supporting students with their online resources. I did this for a little over a year......yes. 365 days of my life speaking to those who are legally retarded. assisting with navigation to the site where it's pretty self explanitory, but somehow
so here i am, like most students, with access to my reading materials a few days prior to the actual course starting. im on a mac. i normally use firefox. safari or opera are generally backups for me. so im using firefox to go through the site, make sure i download whatever i need. and i find myself.... attempting to download my online book (with drm protection, mind you) using firefox... the best part is that i invested a good ten minutes trien to figure out why it won't download. then it hit me- i've finally become all that i've hated. i've finally become a student.
thanks god, you tease you...........
renting v owning
i fucking hate children.
well i don't hate them... hate is not a real emotion, mixture of emotions really... so more acurately, i detest children and am annoyed at them... fucking hate children...
the way i see it- it's like watching a b movie. granted, it's not too bad to watch. you get a few laughs, a few disapointments... many many disapointments... but after you're done watchen it, after the two hours, or maybe thirty minutes if the movie is too horrible, you don't have to keep it. it doesn't sit on top of the dvd play, taunting you. laughing at you for making such a stupid purchase. no. you just walk your happy ass down to the video store and throw it through the fucking glass. done and done.
so one night, i had this child over. cute kid, 70% of the time, she listens to you. but oh my god... i offered to babysit the kid that night... (and let me tell you something, being nice DOES NOT pay off. i don't care what kinda lies jesus tells you- you be an asshole and you be the best fucking asshole you can be. make your own asshole jelious of you) before that though, i get home from work, eight hours worth of talking to fucking adults like they're all legally retarded to show them how to copy and paste or send out emails... through the phone i got to hold their hands and wipe their asses... just to come home and do it again. when i came home, i ate a bit and took a long hot shower to mentally ready myself for talking to another person with the same mentality as people at work. i came out of the shower i found that they'd already gotten here. as soon as i saw the kid- there's fucking paint all over my carpet! that's cool... that's cool. i calmly wipe up the mess... only to leave ghosts of the fucking blue and brown paint on the floor... that's that's cool- she's three and it's understandable that she'll do things like that. so we move the painting outside to the patio... once we get there, i put my apron on the child, lay down newspapers outside and put the paint and water and everything else on the newspaper to prevent other occurances... i go inside for litterally three seconds to get some paper towels and the child has managed to miss EVERY god damned precausion i've put down and paints the fucking cement! how the fuck does she manage to do that?! again- that's cool... im easy to walk over... so i clean it up, gentley scold her and advise that she do it on the paper. (seriously, i was so sweet about it, i fucking gave myself diabetes.) so then i then i got to thinking. i figured since television was both my mother and my father growing up, why not apply that here? so i put on some movies for the kid and she was hook. at the end of the first movie, she got hungery. oh my god- these things have to be fed too?!....fuck you... fine- so i get her a lunchable and some sprite or 7up... whichever one it is that tastes like goat piss, she got it... all was working well, until the she spilled the sprite... on my laptop. normally, an occurance like that is really not as big of an issue as im about to make it- but i fucking flipped! all i recall was shouting, oh my god, oh my god... as i moved the kid out of my way, rushed to my laptop and ran to the bathroom to wipe it off the computer. i was literally crying like a little bitch as i wiped it off and hoped to god that everything was working. luckily it did. really, all my work is on the machine. my ENTIRE portfolio to get my ass out of that horrible job could've been gone. but keeping in mind- im easy to rape- still keep my cool and we put away anything that can at the very least distract her, and we stayed on the floor, watching tv until her mother picked her up.
once satan's mother came- the child held on to my leg (which made me nervious because i was wearing shorts and i thought i felt her hand go up my shorts...) and insisted that i go home with her for a sleep over... and he're the conversation i had with the kid as he mother watched,
luckily, she understood my delicate situation. and as god laughed at me, satan's mother took the b movie back home.
in all honesty, i never really wanted to have children and was a good 95% sure of it. but since that night- whatever the fuck the next number after 100% is- im there.
well i don't hate them... hate is not a real emotion, mixture of emotions really... so more acurately, i detest children and am annoyed at them... fucking hate children...
the way i see it- it's like watching a b movie. granted, it's not too bad to watch. you get a few laughs, a few disapointments... many many disapointments... but after you're done watchen it, after the two hours, or maybe thirty minutes if the movie is too horrible, you don't have to keep it. it doesn't sit on top of the dvd play, taunting you. laughing at you for making such a stupid purchase. no. you just walk your happy ass down to the video store and throw it through the fucking glass. done and done.
so one night, i had this child over. cute kid, 70% of the time, she listens to you. but oh my god... i offered to babysit the kid that night... (and let me tell you something, being nice DOES NOT pay off. i don't care what kinda lies jesus tells you- you be an asshole and you be the best fucking asshole you can be. make your own asshole jelious of you) before that though, i get home from work, eight hours worth of talking to fucking adults like they're all legally retarded to show them how to copy and paste or send out emails... through the phone i got to hold their hands and wipe their asses... just to come home and do it again. when i came home, i ate a bit and took a long hot shower to mentally ready myself for talking to another person with the same mentality as people at work. i came out of the shower i found that they'd already gotten here. as soon as i saw the kid- there's fucking paint all over my carpet! that's cool... that's cool. i calmly wipe up the mess... only to leave ghosts of the fucking blue and brown paint on the floor... that's that's cool- she's three and it's understandable that she'll do things like that. so we move the painting outside to the patio... once we get there, i put my apron on the child, lay down newspapers outside and put the paint and water and everything else on the newspaper to prevent other occurances... i go inside for litterally three seconds to get some paper towels and the child has managed to miss EVERY god damned precausion i've put down and paints the fucking cement! how the fuck does she manage to do that?! again- that's cool... im easy to walk over... so i clean it up, gentley scold her and advise that she do it on the paper. (seriously, i was so sweet about it, i fucking gave myself diabetes.) so then i then i got to thinking. i figured since television was both my mother and my father growing up, why not apply that here? so i put on some movies for the kid and she was hook. at the end of the first movie, she got hungery. oh my god- these things have to be fed too?!....fuck you... fine- so i get her a lunchable and some sprite or 7up... whichever one it is that tastes like goat piss, she got it... all was working well, until the she spilled the sprite... on my laptop. normally, an occurance like that is really not as big of an issue as im about to make it- but i fucking flipped! all i recall was shouting, oh my god, oh my god... as i moved the kid out of my way, rushed to my laptop and ran to the bathroom to wipe it off the computer. i was literally crying like a little bitch as i wiped it off and hoped to god that everything was working. luckily it did. really, all my work is on the machine. my ENTIRE portfolio to get my ass out of that horrible job could've been gone. but keeping in mind- im easy to rape- still keep my cool and we put away anything that can at the very least distract her, and we stayed on the floor, watching tv until her mother picked her up.
once satan's mother came- the child held on to my leg (which made me nervious because i was wearing shorts and i thought i felt her hand go up my shorts...) and insisted that i go home with her for a sleep over... and he're the conversation i had with the kid as he mother watched,
demon seed: 'i want sam to come home with us'
demon seed's womb: 'but sam can't come with us. she has to stay here.'
demon seed: (now looking up at me) 'why can't you come with us sam? we can have a sleep over.'
angry sam: 'i can't go home with you, because there's a chip in my head and if i leave my house, my head will roll off. and we wouldn't want that would we?'luckily, she understood my delicate situation. and as god laughed at me, satan's mother took the b movie back home.
in all honesty, i never really wanted to have children and was a good 95% sure of it. but since that night- whatever the fuck the next number after 100% is- im there.
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