Me fixing the engine in my Mustang 65`. You Daisy Dukes, 6 pack of beers. You said you were experienced, and wanted to fuck me. You said you had experience. I`ll let you fuck me. In all positions, and any way you wanted. I`d said let`s go at it. At some point, you did this trick where the two bodies swinging go out of balance, and the male counterpart falls down hitting his head on the floor, hard. Something went wrong, she went head down on concrete. She kept bitching about it. Whining. Like a girl whose plans have gone wrong and now she`s in the cover up. Honestly, she says she doesn`t know me and doesn`t knows her, and all kinds of weird shit about "thru the rabbit hole". Dammit, I call it Hunter Hunted, she brings it on herself, and she remained in doggy position. She still keeps cussing at me and my deads. Playing victimized, without actually being victimized. My Boombox was playing "Funk not only moves, it can remove, Dig?". And she had this book about Zen Practices and Rituals in her purse, alongside some beauty products. What went wrong???
I'm sorry for throwing my cigarette butts on the ground, for spitting right where someone else will be putting their feet at a bus stop, for cycling on the sidewalk then randomly pulling out into the road, then into the crosswalk, for not saying hello when you ask me how i am doing and just bark my lunch order at you, for driving like a fucking idiot, for my Jean shorts, for not asking you if you are in line, for talking loudly on the phone in public, for my flapping stretched ears, for shitting on toilet seats, for not holding the door, for farting on the bus, for my shitty taste in loud music, for not smiling at strangers, Please forgive me.
Dear ladies: We're all getting older, and with age come certain changes. In my early 20's, I would have quietly (and gladly!) dealt with your condescension, mood-swings, and generally shitty attitude in order to insert my member into your mouth and vagina. However, I've aged (as have you! in case you haven't noticed!) and we are all now in the Autumn of our "still socially acceptable to be single" years, and with this, change must come. I understand the world can be unkind, often to women, and everyone deserves love, but in order to make that tolerable to potential mates, you have to play by the rules. So will all of you who are interested in dating please; have a generally positive outlook on life, laugh, be nice, and not expect me to be interested just because you are a live woman with a functioning uterus. Also, blowjobs (reciprocated, of course) are par for the course in the modern era, so if you're going to be shitty about it, don't play.
The simple fact of the matter is, fucking you is not the incentive it was when we were both 21, with rock-hard bodies, libidos on fire. You may have noticed that I, and many of my successful, balanced male counterparts, are acting accordingly, and fucking coeds. Please feel free to collaborate on your own list of demands, and I am sure the gentlemen of this fair city will gladly oblige, as gentlemen have always done. Thank you.
I work in a certain bookstore downtown, and my workspace happens to be a few yards away from the employee bathrooms. I can't help but notice you-my "esteemed" colleagues-taking unpaid company merchandise (i.e. books and magazines that we will later sell to unsuspecting customers) into the john with you for a little tete-a-tete. Perhaps you're not aware of the Fecal Fountain Factor; well, let me hip you to the jive. The F3 is the invisible fecal cloud that travels EIGHT FEET in every direction after you flush your chocolate hostage down the toilet. Fucking-A right! And not only that, but the shit mist remains in the air for like two hours after the fact, tainting everyone and everything in its path. If you love marinating in your own stink that much, at least show some respect for your co-workers and read YOUR OWN goddamn books on the crapper, not the ones en route to the sales floor. I highly doubt that you'd be keen on purchasing something from a store if you knew it had borne witness to some sweaty, grunting guy's steamy assquake. P.S. On the upside, it would appear that you're getting plenty of fiber in your diet. Your mom would be so proud!
You are not curvy, you are the size of a Volkswagen Beetle (to be fair, the classic Beetle, not the new ones). On behalf of the medical community who are dropping like disabled flies, due (ironically) to lifting your tremendous 300+ pounds of squishy flesh on an alarmingly more frequent basis, please oh please cease your frequent trips to the ER for pain meds. Yes, I'm sure you back and knees hurt tremendously, but this is from packing around all that extra poundage, even if only to cross the room to your Hoveround. That's a lot of PSI on joints that are designed to support a healthy weight. "Fibromyalgia" is a diagnosis given by a doctor to shut you up, and isn't real. Morbid obesity, however, is real and it will kill you. You have the right to be as fat as you want, just stay home and do it, without taking out the rest of us. Oh, and if I can't call you "fat slob" to your face, please refrain from referring to people of normal, healthy weight as anorexic. You clearly have a distorted perception of size and proportion.
You seemed kinda cool. Laidback skateboarder, new to the area, blah blah blah. Allow me to offer a suggestion that you carry with you on all future dates some sort of disclaimer. You are not laidback, you are uptight, as evidenced by your paralyzing fear of women, fucking, and using the telephone. Sure, the majority would congratulate your performance of the ultimate burn: The Fuck and Run After Misrepresenting Oneself.
I worked with what little I had (seriously, 6'5" with a 4-inch dick?), and am thankfully free to pursue better friendships. While you may join the league of pathetic douchebags who self-congratulate in the form of bumping your own fists together for finally getting laid, before you proceed to masturbate and get drunk on the couch (again).
How could I be so thoughtless? The path of concrete between our houses really IS important, as are you. I've neglected your needs in keeping this area pristine so that your "clients" can flee through my back yard if a passerby should call 911 during a "transaction." The fact that I've been injured, have no medical care and a heaping pile of debt is clearly no excuse for neglecting such a needy patch of pavement, even if the stuff you bitch about is NOT on your property, and nobody gives a shit but you about whether or not the cans are lined up at perfect right angles relative to each other and my house. If you need anything, anything at all, just call the police and I'll do whatever it takes to make it up to you. Even if I also have to sell drugs to finance your insane requests. All I ask in return is for you to shut your pie hole.
You know, no one ever told me that some day I would start growing a sparse beard all over my chin and neck. I know I say I'd like a long wizened beard to stroke when I'm thinking, but even if I didn't pluck you little sons of bitches out, it wouldn't look that good.
SO STOP GROWING YOU LITTLE PRICKLY ASSHOLES.
You are an asshole. I just saved your ass from getting to pay me a shit ton of money by swerving out of the way of your Jaguar as you blow through a stop sign towards me. Don't you FUCKING DARE yell at me that I don't have lights on my bike! I'm following the fucking laws of the goddamned road, wearing a bright yellow helmet, riding a bright red bike down a bike boulevard. It's fucking 7PM! Do you have lights on? If I had a light on, would it have made you decide to pay more attention to the BIG RED OCTAGON that you chose to ignore!? Fuck you and your fucking self-important bullshit. Guess what? An over-priced car doesn't hide the fact that you are a douche and you're losing your hair. Fuck you!
Dear poolside parson.. after i work out at the gym i like to swim some laps and kick back in the hot tub for a bit. Unfortunately; there you are.. running your yakkety yapper nonstop. Without a greeting you immediately and directly engage anyone within earshot, moving toward their personal space and spewing forth a strident tsunami of christian science crap. Your holier than thou, know it all rants are condescending and your total disregard for people's desire to wind down is incredibly rude. If your eyes were really so open you would see that there is a big word painted on the wall right in front of your fanatical face. It says RELAX.
shut the fuck up already. if i have to read one more post about hipsters on bikes, hipsters yelling out of cars, or hipsters talking loud at the movies, i'm gonna fuckin lose it. guess what: if you are reading the online version of the alt alt-weekly in portland, oregon....you're a fucking hipster! i'm a fucking hipster. we're all fucking hipsters. if you don't like hipsters, buy an suv and move to the couv. Otherwise, shut the fuck up about hipsters, and keep the complaints to assholes, racists, dogs off leash, and people who work at new seasons.
To the ready-to-pop pregnant lady at the 32nd/Division food cart pod on Tuesday night: congratufuckinglations, somebody knocked you up. All of us here trying to eat might be happy for you if you if you didn't have your disgusting stretch marked tattooed belly hanging out from under your rolled-up tank top. This is a place people come to eat. I don't want to look up from my Venezuelan rice and plantains and see what looks like worms crawling under your swollen gut. I get that this is beautiful, accepting SE Portland and you're a proud tattooed Mom, but I shouldn't have to use my dinner partner as a human shield from the unsettling view. Shame on YOUR dinner partners for not calling you out. I guess they just weren't hungry. I can't WAIT until you squirt that thing out and I have to see it hanging from your tit all over Portland.
Dear New Seasons. I went to your job fairs. Showed up super early. I was # 9 in line out of like 1000 people. I dressed nice. I interviewed well, you guys told me I would be a great fit. I filled out my "job finder" profile bullshit online. I'm well qualified, not ugly, smart- i have 3 degrees for shitsake. I'm a lot fucking nicer than the mopey shitheads I've encountered at your stores ( seriously NS employees, do you NOT KNOW HOW FUCKING GOOD YOU HAVE IT?!? SMILE AND ACT LIKE YOU GIVE A SHIT!). still you dont hire me. WHY?! Am I not diverse enough? tattooed enough? should i have been a dick in my interviews? WHATS THE FUCKING DEAL? I hate you. except for the Santa Claus type man at Arbor Lodge. that guy really is the shit.
dear hipsters who live next to me. your dog is a fucking asshole. while you and your ilk lounge on the lawn drunk on shitty beer and irony, your fucking dog (twice now) runs up to my dog who is ON A FUCKING LEASH and ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE FUCKING STREET and fucks with him. your dog, in case you are too fucking high to notice, is a scary ass looking pitbull. i don't give a shit if your all like "oh she's really sweet, she's nice, she doesn't bite." your dog sucks, she tries to hump and bite my dog and if she does it again I'm going KICK HER IN HER ASSHOLE HEAD. fuck you. clean up your yard and put your dog in the fucking house.
Dear extreme douchebags on the evening Southwest Airlines flight from Chicago to Portland:
Thank you for acknowledging that "everyone on the plane must hate us" as you downed what had to be your 15th cocktail of the day. It's true. Maybe not everyone hated you, but I did.
I know, how selfish of me to not want to learn the specifics of your drinking exploits in Vegas (you've been twice this month, really? And dude, what? You didn't go to Vegas until you were 25? Really? SO SAD! You've been missing out, bro!), the girls you've been hooking up with, and ins and outs of your professional lives (and dude, listen to your newly acquired douchefriend — you shouldn't hire someone who lists the email on their resume as "martini69," even if you think it means they'll be funny). Oh, not mention your group's vocal disdain for the GLBT community, "ugly" girls, and minorities. Thanks for shouting out all of these details, though, so I could learn so much about you during our four-hour flight! Especially you, Portland Fireman dude. You made me so proud to be paying your salary.
I should give a special shout out to the SWA staff, who kept serving you and didn't even ask you to take a seat as you guys stood in the aisles or huddled over each other. I guess I can't blame them, though! Who wants to stop such a kickass impromptu plane party, am I right, bronies? And can we talk about Cheese Nips? I mean, BOOM! (actual quote)
Seriously, screw you, douchebags.
To the parents who were riding with their little kids on N Vancouver this weekend: What the fuck were you guys thinking?
I know you're trying to do the right thing by raising the next generation of bicyclists, but keep your damn spawn out of the bike lanes. Vancouver/Williams is a busy and dangerous corridor, and you guys are utter idiots if you think that small children belong there.
Would you allow a kid to drive a go-kart down Burnside? Probably not. Why the holy fuck, then, would you allow your small children to ride their tiny little kid bikes on one of the busiest bicycle corridors in town? Keep them the fuck out of there. If not for cranky cyclists like me, then at least for the well-being of your offspring. If they get hit by some asshole driver and then reduced to a fine red mist, it'll be because of your shitty parenting more than anything else.
Dear ignorant shithead screaming at me out of your car as you drive down Powell: are you really so important that you think it will earn you merit to roll your window down, stick your bloated hipster face out of it and tell me how disgusting I am, how fat I am, how worthless I am and then drive away once the light turns green?
Do you realize that if your petty, childish, unreasonable actions cause you to wreck your car in my presence after you have just cut me at the knees, I will be more likely to sit and laugh at you instead of help as the car around you bursts into flame?
Is the last thing you want to see before accepting your darwin award the smile on my face even though every one around you is grimacing and choking on the smell of your flesh being charred? No? Then you and all your petty little friends, and complete strangers that have done this to people before really ought to think about the positions they put themselves in just to insult someone they don't even know— and the position they might put themselves in one day that will require them or you to beg the assistance of the stranger you just deemed ugly fat and worthless.
Hey all you Cali-foreigners, Mid West-icans and East Coast a Ricans. I see your cars every day. Your state sucks, so you came here to mine.You moved here however long ago and now your home state registration tags on your car have expired. You have no problem posting the "Heart" Oregon sticker on your car, but you are too damn cheap to register your car in the state you claim to "love" (only out of state idiots buy these, by the way). I'm sure when you got here it took you less than a week to get your Oregon Trail card, eat a Voodoo doughnut and take in a live show. How long are going to go before you pay your way and register your damn car? It's bad enough that you came here to crowd an already crappy job market, now you are also crowding our streets. Every time I see an out of state plate that's expired, I either I want to: A) key it B) puncture the tires C) wait around in the bushes to beat down whoever owns it or D) all of the above. If you truly love this great state of ours, then fork out the dough and do your part in paying for the roads you are now using for free.
I frequent your taco cart because it really is the best, and cheapest(!), in this great city, which means I see you at least twice a week and have done so for over a year. And while you may recognize my face, you would definitely remember me if I was able to tell you how I feel - you are such a bitch!! The reason I can't tell you this is because I mean it in the best way possible. You being a bitch means you don't play favorites, you don't hold up the line small talking regulars, and you keep every customer respectful and concise. I know just what to expect every time I visit, and that familiarity is as comforting as the food. Thank you and keep up the good work, bitch!!
I am a dog lover and owner, and whoever posted about the dogs-off-leash..... I agree!! There are leash laws for a reason! I hate people letting their dogs run off-leash:1. for the ones who run up on and torment my dogs, 2. for those who tear-up nature, 3.and for those who scare little children who end up fearing my dog who adores kids!!! But no one has a legal right to shoot anyone's dog for any reason, you call the authorities for that and the dog has to be quarantined and tested for rabies and if they have it, put down. And to rude people who tell me not to walk my dog by them...F*** You!!!!
I'm sure in your yes-man bubble of like-minded attention whores, you've really come to believe you are making an amazing difference n the community. I was willing to dismiss the showboating in previous years, but now your reality tv series and wife's call in radio show have only proven to the masses that you're more interested in what Portland can do for your wallet. Why don't you try working a women's crisis line for a few months, or cleaning up dog shit at the humane society? Oh wait, the latter might stain your spandex. Volunteers are fantastic people who make a difference every day, and they don't need a youtube channel to do it. Stop taking the focus off of those you are helping to put it on yourself.
...who squirreled her way into my psyche and strategically broke down my confidence: Maybe you hoped I'd continually gain weight throughout my life until it threatened my health as you did.. Maybe you wished I'd hate my professional choices as much as you hated yours.. Maybe your head was really just so far up your ass you could taste your venti sugarfree quad shots on both ends. Whatever your motivation, today, albeit far too long after your torment; I am declaring that I am rubber and you are glue! I am bouncing all of your negativity right back to you. Inside the package may you find a resounding individual FUCK YOU for every time you accepted praise that belonged to me; for every time you built me up in private to degrade me in public; for every time you slammed doors in my face to keep me under your thumb. As a female in business school, I learned extensively of the Glass Ceiling. I was still shocked, however, as no one told me there would be a miserable bitch atop the staircase with a bottle of Windex keeping the glass nice and clean and deceiving.
To the drivers of Portland (and probably pedestrians too), I am the reason everyone hates bicyclists, and I apologize. I have been told that the bicycle is the most efficient machine, but that might not be true with me. I promise I am not making a special effort to get in your way. I'm sorry for being terrible with hand signals, turning and changing lanes. I'm sorry for my spindly little legs that make you wait an extra 5 seconds to go at traffic lights. Accidentally turning down one-way streets, stopping suddenly, crowding left lanes, running red lights, taking spills on busy streets — I repent. This really is as fast as I go. When I see you shaking your heads or making angry faces, I would like to hang my head in shame, but then I would crash and further complicate things. I bought a light and use a helmet now. I am learning, have patience.
Why does almost every employer assume that you have a computer and that you can just e-mail a resume. I'm unemployed and homeless, have very limited access to computers. After years of underemployment I have not been able to afford one. I struggle to even afford resumes( printing,etc). Let me come in and face to face. I've never found a job with a resume, but when I get to talk to the manager or other that is doing the hiring, I get the job 95% of the time. It seems like just another way of keeping us down!
You're a powerful business parent and you reek of booze. I'm sure you just had a few business drinks while you were closing the merger and now it's time to celebrate by taking your daughter and her friend "wherever [they] fucking want!" I'm pretty sure that if I'd taken you aside to suggest you take a cab you would have made a scene and gotten me fired.
Honestly. I like my job more than I like your child's future. I don't even like kids. I'm just waiting patiently for them to become adults. It's not my responsibility to make sure they make it there. That's your deal. I don't know them. I won't feel sad if they die. I obviously feel guilty because I'm writing this down. I guess what I'm trying to say is: take a cab or something. Don't put this ball in my court. How bout you just do the right thing so I don't have to.
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