DaddySatyr
Posts: 9381
Joined: 8/29/2011
From: Pittston, Pennsyltucky
Status: offline
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I don't know, bro. Some of these things make you sound VERY angry.
That aside, I'd like to stab at a few:
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ORIGINAL: Gauge
- The restaurant manager or owner that asks you how everything is and you tell him that something is wrong and he looks at you as if he wants to rip your head off and shit down your neck. Look bitch... if you didn't want to know, don't fucking ask. So... may you have to dine on Potted Meat Product for all eternity.
Two interesting (to me) stories on this one (and kind of a third one, later):
Beth had been telling me about this "local" seafood place. It is fairly close by, but we're three hours from the nearest salt water.
We went, one Friday night. I ordered the scallops. They were disgusting. I ate the first one and almost threw up at the table. I spit it out. Beth asked me what was wrong and I got her a fresh one off my plate. She pushed it back out with her tongue, before she even closed her mouth. Her crab cakes were delicious, apparently.
I didn't want to make a scene so I just lingered over my salad, knowing I'd be stopping for a fish sandwich at Long John Silver on the way home.
The waitress came over and said: "Do you want me to wrap this for you, sir?"
"No, thank you." I whispered, not wanting to spoil anyone else's evening.
"I'll leave it so you can finish ..."
"I'm finished. Thank you."
"What do you want me to do with these?"
"I don't care. I don't want them. Thank you."
Suddenly, this big, hulking guy appears at the table and is leaning over me, almost from behind. I'm guessing his last name ended in a vowel and I don't mean: "Shapiro".
"Is there a problem, here?"
"Not at all."
"I understand you didn't like the food" he brings it out from behind his back. I told him to eat one. He says he's not allowed to. I tell him that I want it in the garbage and he should feel free to not worry about eating food off my plate.
He tries one, realizes they suck and then proceeds to get upset with me because I didn't send the food back. I guess next time I'll just stand up, raise my voice and let the whole place know how bad the food is.
Another time, we went to a local Texas Roadhouse or some such. We ordered our sodas and the waitress brought us a plate of bread. The plate had obviously been wet because the bottom of the bread was soaked and disgusting. We decided it was time to go as we were both feeling a bit ill (that yeast-y taste).
I asked the waitress for the bill for the sodas and told her we were leaving. The manager comes over and blocks me (physically) from getting out of the booth as he's asking what the issue is. He wouldn't let me out of the booth until I'd dialed 9-1-1 on my phone.
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ORIGINAL: Gauge
- People that leave their pets in the car and go shopping. Look folks, you just didn't realize that you had to do your week's grocery shopping all of a sudden... drop Fido or Fluffy off at home THEN go. If you can't sit in the car in the blazing sun for an hour with the windows cracked just a little, what makes you think your pet can?
I have to take exception, here. My dog HATES when I leave him home. Hates it. Whines, cries (yes, he's shed verifiable tears while whining). As a result, I rarely go anywhere without him. Here's the hitch: My key fob won't lock my car with a key in the ignition unless the car is running.
Now, I'm not talking about weekly grocery shopping but I do go to the grocery store to pick up eight, ten, twelve, twenty bottles of soda, if they're on sale. What do I do? I had a second key made. I use that to start the car. I drive long enough to make sure it's cool enough in the car.
I get out, leave the engine (and A/C) running and lock the doors with the fob. Puppy still doesn't like me not being there, but he's in no danger from the heat while I'm gone for (never more than) 15 minutes.
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ORIGINAL: Gauge
- Picture the highway. You are driving 55 or 65 miles per hour... let's say you are going to work. The person in the lane right next to you is... reading their newspaper, drinking coffee and smoking all while driving a 2500 pound steel weapon down the road. Look, I am not the brightest, but can you not wake up a half-hour earlier and do all of that shit at home and NOT try and kill the rest of us? Thanks.
Along the same lines is the asshole that feels like the speed limit should be 90 MPH and weaves in and out of traffic, endangering everyone.
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ORIGINAL: Gauge
- People that want to say that a smoker can't sit outside and smoke in a designated area just because it might harm them... look, it's a big fucking planet... move the fuck over!
I'm just generally sick to death of all the non-smoking bullshit while dope-smokers don't mind if they push that shit into my nose/mouth.
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ORIGINAL: Gauge
- The meatwhistles that think because I am anti-war means that I don't support the troops. I do support the troops... I do not want them to die. I want them home safe and sound. Is that not a noble sentiment? Does this make me a person that is not patriotic when I care about their lives?
Of course it doesn't make you un-patriotic. I can tell you this from experience, though: Like it or not, war is the raison d'etre for a soldier. They don't feel disrespected by war. They feel like they're doing their job.
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ORIGINAL: Gauge
- People that do not clean up after their dog and then get all indignant when you ask them to pick up their dear little pet's feces. I don't walk into your home and shit on your carpet and leave with a smile on my face... but it is really tempting to do so when I see you not clean up after your animal. Stupid people should not be entrusted with the responsibility to care for an animal.
I spent thirty-plus years not being a "dog person", but I've almost always owned cats (from the age of about seven years old or so).
I was living in Arizona and had just spent about $4,000 so my young son could play in a nice yard.
A neighbor from down the street used to let his dog crap on my grass just about every day (grass is semi-rare in Phoenix and the environs). I saw him, one day and told him that my yard was for my son to play in and I'd rather his dog didn't crap in my yard, anymore.
His response: "What's the big deal? It's just 'nature'!"
So ... I followed him home, one day. Once I knew where he lived, when it was time to empty my cat's litter box (about every two days), I took it to his house and dumped it in his yard. He seemed to have a problem with that for some reason.
Michael
_____________________________
A Stone in My Shoe
Screen captures (and pissing on shadows) still RULE! Ya feel me?
"For that which I love, I will do horrible things"
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People That Can Go Fuck Themselves! - 
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