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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:
lets all spread the love
You call that hating people?
Pfffft...*waves hand*
You lightweight
Pfffft...*waves hand*
You lightweight
Wahey Chipseh!!!
=D
=D
Hey calm down Howard.
Heh, it's what I say to myself all the time.
Heh, it's what I say to myself all the time.
just beat me to it there...
No one will read the rest of that rant now. just talk about hating, HATING I SAY!!!!
No one will read the rest of that rant now. just talk about hating, HATING I SAY!!!!
people complaining about people, will it ever end?
I hate people who complain about people, who complain about people complaining. must hate myself even! that can't be right...
I hate people who complain about people, who complain about people complaining. must hate myself even! that can't be right...
I hate people too ....... hey, you're people
*menacing stare*
*menacing stare*
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: