Friday, April 15, 2011

So... it's been a while.

Hello children. It's been... a while... since I posted on here, but that doesn't mean that I haven't been angry. I think maybe I've been slightly less angry than usual, but that's probably the Cadbury Creme Egg and vanilla milk talking. I still rant daily... multiple times, probably, but my rants have been reduced more to twitter than anything else. Don't hate.

Anyway, lately I've been pretty annoyed at the way some people I know treat their friends. This isn't really directed at anyone in particular (except one bitch but even if she was I wouldn't give a fuck), but it fucking sucks to see people I care about treated like shit, so there we go.

It seems like people have been so overfuckingsensitive lately. And selfish. Really fucking selfish. I just need to start slapping bitches and reminding them that the world doesn't revolve around them. I also need to punch every single person in the teeth who posts passive-aggressive Facebook statuses and then backs up on the bitchiness when someone that they were talking about comments. I mean, post the statuses, I give a fuck - I'm guilty of it too sometimes - but have the guts to admit that you were talking about that person or don't say anything at all. It's like I said in my last post (from January...? Seriously? Wow I suck, apparently two blogs at once is simply too much work for me) - if it's something you wouldn't have the balls to say in real life, don't fucking say it.

The other thing that's really getting on my balls lately is the same sort of thing as always. I hate my job because it makes me miserable (except for the people I work with - all my coworkers are awesome but most of my supervisors suck) and even the one good thing about it (coworkers) are all miserable because they hate this goddamn job too. It's like a vicious cycle of misery and I'm sure it's only going to get worse once businesses have to start paying above slave labour. Oooh no, big business, you simply don't have any money at all to pay your employees so they can afford to, you know, live. I totally understand how hard that is because fuck off and die. I hate my job because incompetent people get promoted or hired on when perfectly capable people are getting left behind. I especially hate it because it's always men getting hired on to do positions that existing employees could do more than adequately. I'm just saying, pretty much all of the boss people at my fucking job are men, yet most of the employees themselves are women. So it just seems a little dodgy that men keep getting hired to do jobs that the women could do too.

I also hate my supervisors (most of them) because they (and I definitely DO mean the men here) have this irritating goddamn habit of moving around a lot and not fucking doing anything. Walking around with the schedule clipboard is not doing something. There's only five of us working, you fucking asshole, even you can remember at least a bit of that. And you know it's bad when fucking customers comment on it. A lady came through my till today and straight up said that the only people who work at that store are women. I didn't really say anything and she said that the men just walk around trying to look busy and that the supervisor for our part of the store only comes down when he absolutely has to and then acts like it's a giant fucking inconvenience the whole time. I obviously agreed but I wasn't going to say shit all.

And then she started in on the object of my most intense loathing at work. One of my supervisors. Said he's a sexist, condescending pig and that he treats us all like we can't do our jobs. And then I got to thinking about how I detest him so much and why. I've made a list of why I hate him so much. Want to see it? Too bad, you're going to.

1. I fucking hate him because he's one of those people that talks a lot and never says anything. I don't know how else to explain it except to say that nothing he says is of value.
2. I fucking hate him because any time someone does something that isn't the way he would do it, he gets all bent out of shape and spends ten minutes lecturing us and saying the same goddamn thing over and over. Maybe I should've switched one and two around, since I basically just said he says nothing over and over. Which is true.
3. I hate him because he is so fucking fake. He's absolutely ecstatic when he hears any bit of gossip. His eyes seriously light up with the most malicious glee I've ever seen. Yet he's told me numerous times that the women at work spend all their time gossiping. a;dskjghas;dkh
4. This ties into three, but he's a complete sexist. And I don't give a FUCK how many times people say it's a cultural thing or that it's because he's from a different generation. That is no fucking excuse for not extending the same respect to women. Women are human beings too (shocker) and to treat them so fucking rudely blows my mind. No wonder he's single.
5. This also ties into three, but he alternates between acting like a big douchebag to me and then trying to befriend me. By doing stupid shallow things, like saying that I have nice hair (I do) or that my nails look nice (they always do). Or like a few nights ago, he told me that he really liked my nails (and went on to blab about his background in arts I DON'T CARE) and then basically told me that I wear too much make up.

He's basically just the most loathsome, foul human being I've eve rmet. And this means that I'm actually saying he's worse than the sewing teacher who threw one of my classmates across the room (seriously), the elementary school teacher I had that was such a giant bitch that we all went crazy one day and basically trashed a classroom, causing her to have a nervous breakdown, and anyone ever who wears fucking bar glitter on their nails. Seriously.

So I guess, in short, this is to let you know that I'm still alive and angry. I wanted to do a big feminist rant but I've been feministing a lot lately and it's a lot to try and sort out and form into sentences and paragraphs and stuff. So yeah. Still alive, still angry, still... here?

Saturday, January 8, 2011

There are so many mini rants in here.

SO MANY OF THEM.

Okay. So I was an extremely angry bunny today... yes, bunny. WHAT'S IT TO YOU.

First, I woke up and had a scratchy throat from a five hour Rock Band marathon with Melvis, Holland and KD. And then I checked Facebook and saw an ignorant pig that T was FB friends with acting like a douchebag on a status she posted about how people that shop at our work (most of us work at the same place) are fucking dickbags.

This is true. It is so true that I'm amazed that we don't come home from work every single day and rant for hours about how we've lost faith in humanity and how everyone is a fucking cockface and that it might actually be a good thing for us to be destroyed in a nuclear war, because at least we'd potentially have the chance to start fresh and maybe our radioactive future selves will eradicate stupidity. Ooooh happy thoughts.

Anyway, I don't want to rehash what happened, but basically, when people fucking flagrantly show off their ignorance and sense of entitlement like it's going out of fucking style, I want to kill them. I hate when people try and back up and act like they weren't acting like chodes after they get called out by a person (or four).

I fucking hate people who don't understand netiquette. Yes, netiquette. The internet isn't a pass for you to use to act like a fucking dick and say all of the things that you would never have the guts to say in real life. Here's some basic netiquette:

1. Don't say things that you don't have the balls to say in real life.
2. Don't be awkward. Commenting on a status that someone that you haven't spoken to in years is awkward.
3. Starting an argument on said person's status is also awkward.
4. Acting like a douchebag and then getting embarrassed and deleting all of your douchebaggery is fucking stupid. Have the courage of your convictions, or whatever that expression is. You said it. If you can't take the heat, get out of the kitchen. ClicheKirstenlikescliches.
5. Don't act like a douchebag because I will find you.

Another rant... I hate people who power trip. Like oooooooooooh, let me flaunt my power and subtly threaten you by saying that you won't be able to wear nail polish to work. Motherfuckerrrrrrrrrrrrrrr nothing gets between me and my polish. NOTHING. Don't do things just to show your minions that you can. Work on making, you know, constructive changes. I would like to go one shift without being called a cunt. I'd like to have six months of work where I don't almost get stabbed by some crazy cracked out motherfucker with a needle. That would be really nice. Fuck uniforms. Customer behaviour expectations are far more important to get out there.

*Sigh* I have a very long post saved on here that I will publish at some point... but it's not done yet... instead, I'll share some awkward stories from the last month or so, since people really seem to enjoy hearing about me making an ass of myself. It's okay. I like when you make yourself look like a dick too. HAHAHAHA THAT SENTENCE.

Story oneeeeee: I was Christmas shopping for KD, and I wanted to try and find some Star Wars related to that jedi guy she likes... Wikipedia has informed me that his name is Qui-Gon Jinn. I wish I'd had my phone when I was doing this, but... so anyway, I went into a comic book store and approached one of the guys after wandering around for ten minutes. I asked if they had any Star Wars stuff, and he asked if I was looking for anything in particular. Cue my brain failing to remember the name that I had barely stuffed into my polish/history-filled brain. I stuttered a few times and then made sweeping light saber motions with my arms and made "q" sounds over and over until he said the name. By then I was all embarrassed and he said they didn't have anything. I apologized for being socially handicapped, and he made a comment about knowing how that was. I left the store quickly and tried not to cry because why is social interaction so fucking difficult?

Story twooooooooooo: After our first day of classes on Wednesday, I called my best friend to talk about how I had my favourite prof again and how he somehow got hotter. I walked down the stairs talking about him and his accent and how stoked I was for the class and blah blah blah. I left the stairwell place and sat down on a chair in the hallway to find my bus pass before I headed to the loop. Not five seconds later, super sexy prof walked out of the same stairwell. He smiled at me and said hi like he always does but I'm sure he heard me and is waiting to use it against me in the future. Oh well. I want to break up his marriage so I can have him and his supaaaaaaaaaaaaa sexy accent anyway.

Ahhh, this one is an old one, but it always makes people laugh. Okay. So at work, I was rolling a rack and this lady came up to me and asked why a Bible was priced the way it was. I tried to explain the book policy to her and over and over, and she kept questioning it like I was fucking lying to her or something, and I got steadily more fed up until I just blurted out, "Because that's how we price fiction!". She looked completely shocked and walked away without a word. I saw her go through a till getting the Bible about ten minutes later. I was pretty much dead with laughter at that, but I was horrified because I knew that she was going to complain about me to someone. I don't really discuss my atheism with people that I don't know well, and I was sort of dreading the inevitable conversation explaining that I had a minor brain lapse and forgot that people don't need to know things that personal blah blah. I don't think any of my supervisors at work knew at that point. It's weird, you'd think atheism isn't a big deal, but a lot of people kind of freak out when they find out I'm an atheist. When I see that, I usually find a way to work my feminism in too... it's like a two for one!

In short, fuck everything and everyone should die. That sums up my feelings about most of today.

Thursday, December 16, 2010

Nobody is polite anymore.

So, as some of you may know (also known as all of you, since all the people who follow this blog are people who actually know me), I'm a pretty polite person. That's how I was raised and even when I want to be really rude, especially to customers, I can't quite pull it off.

As a result of my upbringing, I also fucking loathe rude people. I would actually rather have a ten minute conversation with a fucking moron than a two minute conversation with a rude person. Seriously. That is how much I hate them.

Obviously, my love of politeness makes me miserable at work. I never encounter as many rude people as I do when I head into work. I always forget that I cease to be a human being the second I put on my vest. But really, it fucking serves me right, doesn't it?

For example, I had a "conversation" (I hesitate to call it anything resembling that but can't think of a better word) with a customer yesterday that went as follows.

Kirsten is ringing through customers at her till when she hears some dickwad yelling like a big dickface.

Big dickface: YOOO HOO! HELLO! HEY YOU! YOO HOO! HEY YOU! HEY CASHIER! HEY CASHIER GIRL! YOOOOOOO HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Kirsten: $11.19, please.

BD: YOOOOOOOOOO HOOOOOOOOOOOO! I'M TALKING TO YOU, CASHIER! HEY YOU!

Kirsten continues to ignore the dickface, who proceeds to make his way closer and closer to her till, still yelling like a dickwad. He finally makes his googly-eyed way over to her till.

BD: I was calling you, you know!

Kirsten: Oh, were you? I figured you were calling a child. Usually, "excuse me, miss" or something of the sort works a lot better on me.

BD: There's no need to be rude! With a super horrified expression like Kirsten had just slapped him across the face with a rotten octopus.

Kirsten: I don't think that I'm the rude one here...

BD: HEY NOW. Like ohmygod he is so offended. Where's your public relations, girl?!

Kirsten: Where are your manners?

KIRSTEN LAYS THE SMACKDOWN. END SCENE.

And he literally did not think that he was behaving inappropriately by attempting to call me the way one calls a dog.

Speaking of people trying to get my attention as though I'm a dog, here's another gem from when I transferred to this store.

Kirsten is rolling a rack when she hears someone snapping their fingers repeatedly. Thinking that the person was probably one of those annoying assholes who listened to their music super loudly and couldn't keep still, she kept rolling until she heard someone call out.

Super dickhead customer I will fucking keel you you motherfucker: UMM HIIIII? In a super indignant voice.

The bitch who is going to slaughter you motherfucker: ... Yeah?

SDCIWFKYYM: I was trying to get your attention! Didn't you hear me snapping?

TBWIGTSYM: ... You were snapping at me to try and get my attention?

SDCIWFKYYM: Uhhhh YEAH. Listen, where are the -

TBWIGTSYM: I am not a dog. Starts to walk away.

SDCIWFKYYM: Aren't you going to answer my question?!?!?!?! Oh my GOD!

TBWIGTSYM: No, I'm not.

Kirsten walks away to continue rolling and that motherfucker has to try and find his own stuff in the store FUCK YOU DICKHEAD.

Basically, this all comes down to the same thing.

I love how older people bitch about how rude "my" generation is. Most of the people that I have issues with at work are adults acting like petulant children. That isn't to say people my age aren't rude, it's just that it seems to happen to me a lot more with older people.

And seriously, fucking thank us when we wrap all of your used dishes in newspaper so they don't break. Do you realize how much we fucking hate doing it? Do you realize what a massive time waster it is for us? Do you realize that we don't actually have to do it?

I hate my job.

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

UGH.

So this is a bit of an unusual rant for this blog, and for me generally, but this really pissed me off, so I'm going to talk about it.

I went to the grocery store today to get some baking supplies (... and stop at Starbucks so what don't judge me). On my way out of the house, I was outside for all of three seconds before I realized that I was really going to need a scarf and gloves. So I went back in and grabbed my Ravenclaw scarf and some little finger gloves. It was seriously windy as hell and I was pissed.

Anyway, I was heading to the bus stop, listening to my Deathly Hallows audiobook (Stephen Fry, of course) and right when I walked to the bus stop, the bus was waiting at the light, so I was all pleased with myself. I stepped onto the bus, still feeling quite pleased with myself (don't ask why, because I have no idea! It's not like I knew I was timing it perfectly) and sat down in an empty seat at the front, because I hate sitting next to strangers on the bus oh god it makes me want to die.

Being intensely self-conscious, it took me about thirty seconds on the bus to realize that two frat boys were looking at my scarf and laughing to each other. So, being nosey, I pretended that I didn't notice. I paused my iPod so I could hear what they were saying. And then I had to resist the urge to strangle them both with my scarf.

First off, they were the type of guys that say stuff like "dude" and "bro" and "man" and stuff. Kaydee and I call them "dudebros". And they were talking about how nerdy I was (I am, thank you), which didn't bother me, but then they were saying that people who liked HP were losers who were unhappy with their own lives and people who hadn't "advanced" past childhood. Oh, and that apparently people who like the series itself are people who are boring and wish that they were constantly worried about dying. I've got news for you, I'm an extremely paranoid human being and I already am constantly worried that I'm going to be brutally killed. I just don't think that He Who Must Not Be Named will do it.

I really just wanted to bitch them out for it. Like, oh, since it's okay for you to judge me, let me express my opinions too! Firstly, I think that you probably didn't graduate high school, since your constant use of "like" suggests an inability to articulate your meagre, unintelligible thoughts.

Secondly, I think that you're both really insecure, since you both insist on ending sentences with some variant of "man". Are you afraid that he's not listening?

Thirdly, an asshole who talks on a pretty empty bus about someone on the bus (sitting not even two rows away, I might add) is a douchebag. Put the pair of you together, and you're nattering like bitchy girls. GOD PUT YOUR CLAWS AWAY AND STOP ACTING LIKE A VAGINA, BRO.

And lastly, anyone who thinks HP is an exclusively children's series is sadly mistaken. There is some fucked up shit in HP that is obviously not meant for kids. As the series advances, it gets increasingly tragic and violent (DOBBY DUMBLEDORE HEDWIG LUPIN TONKS FRED GEORGE'S EAR :( :( :( :( ). What kinds of books did you read as children that make you think that this is tame shit? How silly of me, you're probably still only mildly literate at best.

Don't talk shit about Harry Potter. I will send my dragon to burn your house down and my Hippogriff will fuck you up.

Sunday, November 7, 2010

Dragon Quidditch?

I haven't ranted for a bit, but that doesn't mean my life has been rage-free. My life has had so much rage in it that I can hardly function lately.

So, in no particular order, here are the things that I'm hating right now.

1. The "abortion is the undercover Holocaust" speaking thing that was on campus. I can't actually begin to articulate what happened to my brain when I saw a sign that . Basically, my brain shut down, I couldn't hear anything and I was pretty much blind from rage. It was called "Echoes of the Holocaust", so right away I was pissed, because THE HOLOCAUST WAS A GENOCIDE AND YOU CLEARLY DON'T KNOW WHAT GENOCIDE MEANS. The point that he was trying to make (oh, did I mention it was a man? I don't hate men or anything, but why the fuck are so many pro-life activists men?) was that abortion is a genocide because it dehumanizes the group being targeted, along with a few other points that were really just stretching it. Did I mention that a fetus isn't a human? Oh yeah. How can you dehumanize something that isn't human? It has no upper brain function, and isn't that something we try to claim to differentiate ourselves from plants, for example? Plants have no upper brain function and a fetus doesn't either. So really, if abortion is murder, so is pulling up carrots from the ground. Excuse me, though, I've got to leave this point off because I'm about to complete my genocide of potatoes. (Om nom.)

2. The insane levels of chauvinism that seem to be floating around me all the time. A supervisor at work is clearly a chauvinist and I don't fucking care where you're from, when you come to a country where men and women are equal, you have to drop that mindset or I'm going to cut you. And I have this feeling that nothing I say to any of my "superiors" at work will change anything, since they're men too, and complaining to a man about how inherently sexist a man is (especially when they're around the same age and clearly have similar mentalities about women) doesn't really seem like a good idea. I don't even want to think about this anymore.

3. The leaning guy on the bus is STILL on the bus whenever I take it. I've been trying to catch earlier buses and it's like he fucking knows and he keeps taking the same bus as me. I asked him if he had an inner ear problem... probably about a week and a half ago, maybe two, so he's mostly stopped, but i looked like a psycho. It went something like this.

Me: (with bags under my eyes the size of something really really big and eyes twitchy from lack of sleep) Do you have an inner ear problem?

Leaning jackass douchebag dickbag that deserves to die: ... What?

Me: Do you have an inner ear problem. You seem incapable of standing up straight and insistent on attempting to crush my ribcage with your back pack twice a week.

Him: ... Sorry...

I haven't had a problem with him since, but why do I have to say something that makes me seem like a dick to make him stop acting like a dick? I mean, really, if he wasn't acting like a douchebag in the first place, I wouldn't have had to say anything.

4. Drama. For the most part (half, maybe? I dunno) it's a bit beyond everyone's control, but there is behaviour that reminds me too much of someone that I don't want to be reminded of and it's really a bit like high school. I'm hoping everything will settle down, because I'm sick of it, but if it doesn't stop, some people will get punched in the face (the ones that can't really help it) and some will get cut (the people who need to stop because I can't handle this).

Really, I'm way too much of a pacifist to ever actually intentionally hurt someone (unless I feel that I'm in danger), but I might threaten to and I might have really violent dreams about it.

Well, not even the latter. I had a dream that a few of my dear friends and I were playing Quidditch on dragons, and our dragons made a rainbow. And then I got hit (or almost hit? Can't remember) by a bludger directed by a Beater and my dragon burned him to death. Serves you right for being in Hufflepuff, you fucking loser.

... Yeah.

Monday, October 25, 2010

Part time friends.

I've sort of already ranted about this before, but I don't care, I'm doing it again and if you don't like it, stop reading now. But really, keep reading.

Okay. So I have a few friends that try to pull this "part-time friend" bullshit with me.

What is a part-time friend, you might ask?

A part-time friend is a person that you don't see very often or talk to very often. You probably don't even hear from them very often, and when you do, it's usually because they want to talk about themselves. Do you have one? I bet you do.

I fucking hate these people.

Sorry, I don't want to have you text me or talk to me on Facebook just so you can talk about your new significant other and how great they are. I don't want this to happen because you're not going to speak to me again until you need to tell SOMEONE about all of the super fantastic interesting things going on in your life.

If I'm having some kind of get together, don't be surprised if you aren't invited. Don't try to wrangle yourself an invite if you aren't invited. If you aren't invited, it's because I don't consider us close enough to bother right now, and/or because your behaviour is pissing me off and I currently wish that you would die.

The one that really gets me is people who talk to me just to talk about themselves. I have one "friend" in particular that does this. I go months without hearing a word from them, and suddenly they're texting me or messaging me on Facebook, talking about their life, seeking advice, and then promptly shutting up once they've used my vast amounts of wisdom. It's another couple of months til I hear from them again, and the same thing happens.

Here's some brutal honesty. I probably give you my advice because I want to be able to say "I told you so" when you don't follow it and end up fucking things up for yourself. I may not say it to your face, but my god am I fucking thinking it. Even if I don't give you advice out of spite, I do it because I think I'm generally rather good at it, and any advice that I have to give is good practice for when people that actually matter to me ask for it.

In short:

If you treat me like shit, if you only try to be present in my life when it suits you, if you only want to be included in things I'm doing because your other "friends" will be there, if you only talk to me for advice, if you literally don't know the first thing about what's going on in my life, if you can't even be bothered to ask me how I am once in a while, if you're going to try and excuse your douchebaggery by saying you've been busy with your significant other, I would like to take this opportunity to tell you to fuck the fuck off.

If you do this, my tags seem to indicate that I really fucking hate this, to the point that I used three different tags to say "I hate you". Please take this as a warning. And do not try and call me out if you think this post is about you. It's not really about anyone in particular, but if you think this applies to you, it probably does. So make your decision. If you want to try and stay friends, great. If not, I obviously don't really care.

Friday, October 22, 2010

Reason # I don't even know anymore because there are SO MANY

For why I fucking hate my job.

So today, Michele and I were tidying up the store (see, sometimes I forget that the minute I put my stupid vest on, I cease to become a human being, so sometimes I'm completely amazed at what fucking rude pigs people are when they come to shop at that shithole) and we ran into Cindy (I love her) when we headed down another aisle to keep picking clothes up from the floor because it's far too difficult for anybody to do it when they knock things over because they are FAR TOO BUSY DO NOT BE SO INSOLENT.

Yeah. So we went down the vintage aisle, and we ran into Cindy, so we all started hanging stuff up and the like together. And I noticed that it smelled there, and I finally decided to ask Michele about it, thinking that she had probably farted (she's just like that, it's hilarious). And I turned around, and she just had this look on her face that I have never seen before, and she says, "You guys." I look at what she's looking at and oh god what the fuck why is this happening.

Have you guessed what it was?

If you guessed that it was a pile of clothing for men (button up shirt, pants and tie) with A PILE OF FUCKING SHIT ON IT, you're right.

What the fuck is wrong with you you disgusting human being there are bathrooms that are open ALL the time and people shit in there ALL the time and I hope we fucking see who you are on the camera and I will find some way to obtain your image from the security video, I shall blow the photo up and make sure that I put it EVERYWHERE in the store. It will just be sheets of paper with YOUR SICK FUCKING FACE on them and it won't say anything underneath. And if you ever come into the store again you'll be like WHY IS MY FACE EVERYWHERE and I'll see you and I'll say YOU SICK FUCKING FUCK IT'S THE SHITTER IT'S THE SHITTER because you're a disgusting person and you don't deserve happiness or nice things and SERIOUSLY ARE YOU A CHILD.