The "Freeola Customer Forum" forum, which includes Retro Game Reviews, has been archived and is now read-only. You cannot post here or create a new thread or review on this forum.
I *hate* people that complain about decaf. Yeah, it's not great, but it's not THAT bad! Christ, making a whole website so you can moan about decaf is taking it a bit too far. It's just coffee.
And those people that always come up to you in the street. Damn hippies.
"Save the monkeys in Uganda"
"Save the Walrus' in Antarctica"
"Save the American gigolo"
Do you get off on this stuff? Oh, let's go prey on random people in the street. Great.
And then there're those people that decide to publicly express their "feelings towards Mother Nature". IT DIED OUT IN THE 60's, MONG! Yey, let's go au natural in the park. I swear, you just need one little kid feeding the ducks at the wrong time, and WHAM! Scarred for life.
What about those people who ring you up, even when you're not listed in the directory? What do they do, hunt in your rubbish bins *looking* for phone numbers? You only need one to find your number and that's it. It spreads through the poorly-educated, under-funded fabricated buildings home to morons that insist on practicing their phone-answering skills on the bus. Fan-bloody-tastic.
Argh! And those people that always feel the need to comment on your appearance. Who are you, my Grandma?
"He's so tall"
"What the hell did you do to your hair?"
"Ah, I see, he's gone into the Kevin the teenager stage"
WHAT THE HELL? Kevin the teenager stage? I'm friggin' less moody and temperamental than you, muppet. Christ, it's like they're trying to bait me. "Go on, insult, me. You know you want to". I swear, one day I will.
Then last week my Mum decides we should have some big family barbeque at our house. Oh, magic. I remember the last 'family' barbeque. We noticed a weird smell emanating from the kitchen after everyone had left. Someone had left a little present. And it wasn't my dogs.
I blame the rat-faced kid. I swear, I'll get him. He deserves to be smacked round the face with a shovel several-thousand times. I mean, what is he, an emotionally scarred monkey that craps everywhere? Idiot.
And then you get those 'helpful' shop assistants.
"Hi, erm, can you tell me where to find the charcoal?"
"If ye can't see it, we ain't got it"
"What? But it says on the door..."
"WE AIN'T GOT IT, RIGHT?"
"WELL WHAT THE HELL IS THAT DOWN BY YOUR FEET, MORON?"
"Oh yeah…"
I hate people.
And those people that always come up to you in the street. Damn hippies.
"Save the monkeys in Uganda"
"Save the Walrus' in Antarctica"
"Save the American gigolo"
Do you get off on this stuff? Oh, let's go prey on random people in the street. Great.
And then there're those people that decide to publicly express their "feelings towards Mother Nature". IT DIED OUT IN THE 60's, MONG! Yey, let's go au natural in the park. I swear, you just need one little kid feeding the ducks at the wrong time, and WHAM! Scarred for life.
What about those people who ring you up, even when you're not listed in the directory? What do they do, hunt in your rubbish bins *looking* for phone numbers? You only need one to find your number and that's it. It spreads through the poorly-educated, under-funded fabricated buildings home to morons that insist on practicing their phone-answering skills on the bus. Fan-bloody-tastic.
Argh! And those people that always feel the need to comment on your appearance. Who are you, my Grandma?
"He's so tall"
"What the hell did you do to your hair?"
"Ah, I see, he's gone into the Kevin the teenager stage"
WHAT THE HELL? Kevin the teenager stage? I'm friggin' less moody and temperamental than you, muppet. Christ, it's like they're trying to bait me. "Go on, insult, me. You know you want to". I swear, one day I will.
Then last week my Mum decides we should have some big family barbeque at our house. Oh, magic. I remember the last 'family' barbeque. We noticed a weird smell emanating from the kitchen after everyone had left. Someone had left a little present. And it wasn't my dogs.
I blame the rat-faced kid. I swear, I'll get him. He deserves to be smacked round the face with a shovel several-thousand times. I mean, what is he, an emotionally scarred monkey that craps everywhere? Idiot.
And then you get those 'helpful' shop assistants.
"Hi, erm, can you tell me where to find the charcoal?"
"If ye can't see it, we ain't got it"
"What? But it says on the door..."
"WE AIN'T GOT IT, RIGHT?"
"WELL WHAT THE HELL IS THAT DOWN BY YOUR FEET, MORON?"
"Oh yeah…"
I hate people.
Page:
You answered your own question there Lawri, I'm afraid.
You see, of course I wouldn't be asking where it was if I could see it. That would be foolish.
I had been stunned with a baseball bat, and had to resort to asking rather than looking.
Yes.
You see, of course I wouldn't be asking where it was if I could see it. That would be foolish.
I had been stunned with a baseball bat, and had to resort to asking rather than looking.
Yes.
Lawri has found the hole in the plan.
This is the beginning of the end people.
This is the beginning of the end people.
Don or†ega wrote:
> Microchips wrote:
> And then you get those 'helpful' shop assistants.
>
>
> "Hi, erm, can you tell me where to find the charcoal?"
>
> "If ye can't see it, we ain't got it"
>
> "What? But it says on the door..."
>
> "WE AIN'T GOT IT, RIGHT?"
>
> "WELL WHAT THE HELL IS THAT DOWN BY YOUR FEET, MORON?"
>
> "Oh yeah…"
Why was u asking the shop assistant where the charcoal was when u could see it?
> Microchips wrote:
> And then you get those 'helpful' shop assistants.
>
>
> "Hi, erm, can you tell me where to find the charcoal?"
>
> "If ye can't see it, we ain't got it"
>
> "What? But it says on the door..."
>
> "WE AIN'T GOT IT, RIGHT?"
>
> "WELL WHAT THE HELL IS THAT DOWN BY YOUR FEET, MORON?"
>
> "Oh yeah…"
Why was u asking the shop assistant where the charcoal was when u could see it?
such a sad turn of events...
I mourn the old chipple
I mourn the old chipple
Bane wrote:
> So you complain when people ask you to take an interest in the world's
> declining wildlife?
No, you see, don't get me wrong, it's not the cause, but rather the fact that they decide to prey on people rather than advertising.
See the difference?
> So you complain when people ask you to take an interest in the world's
> declining wildlife?
No, you see, don't get me wrong, it's not the cause, but rather the fact that they decide to prey on people rather than advertising.
See the difference?
So you complain when people ask you to take an interest in the world's declining wildlife?
Maggot.
Maggot.
Reminds me of that programme - Grumpy Old Men [or whatever it's called]: a load of successful and wealthy male celebrities complaining about the way of the world. Richard Madley was even on it for Chris**t's sake! What a bunch of hypocritical ponces. "I'm rich and successful, and now I'm going to moan about everything and anything because life is sh*t" - oh really.
*Grips chair and rocks back and forth*
Coffee.......COFFEE.....CAFFEINE!
I never drink decaf. Coffee is like my source of life.
Coffee.......COFFEE.....CAFFEINE!
I never drink decaf. Coffee is like my source of life.
Basically, Chad now hates you.
I didnt even read the post, coz its too long and Chad cant read, but i hate you.
I didnt even read the post, coz its too long and Chad cant read, but i hate you.
Microchips wrote:
> And then you get those 'helpful' shop assistants.
>
>
> "Hi, erm, can you tell me where to find the charcoal?"
>
> "If ye can't see it, we ain't got it"
>
> "What? But it says on the door..."
>
> "WE AIN'T GOT IT, RIGHT?"
>
> "WELL WHAT THE HELL IS THAT DOWN BY YOUR FEET, MORON?"
>
> "Oh yeah…"
Thats standard m8. I been working in a shop 4 years now and thats what i tell em all!
> And then you get those 'helpful' shop assistants.
>
>
> "Hi, erm, can you tell me where to find the charcoal?"
>
> "If ye can't see it, we ain't got it"
>
> "What? But it says on the door..."
>
> "WE AIN'T GOT IT, RIGHT?"
>
> "WELL WHAT THE HELL IS THAT DOWN BY YOUR FEET, MORON?"
>
> "Oh yeah…"
Thats standard m8. I been working in a shop 4 years now and thats what i tell em all!
Page: