Hey! Ladies at the Warehouse party on se Pine and 6th on Halloween weekend who accused my friend of stealing her over-produced panda hat—YOU ARE PSYCHOPATHS! I’d entertain your confusion if it weren’t the same hat made famous by the San Francisco Giants, who played the World Series attended by THOUSANDS of people, which would consequently lead to this same item being over produced and sold to thousands of people. Yes, by attending this special game with his father while watching America’s favorite pastime is where my friend had gained such a prize. Yes, it is ubiquitous, and as such, there is a large possibility that somebody in this world could own the same hat. In fact, thousands of people do.
This concept seemed to be incomprehensible to you. Not only were you so dead goddamn wrong about the accusation you and your whorish blonde friend made, but you refused to approach the situation like an adult. If I could suggest something for you to avoid any future incidents involving you drunkenly attacking an innocent person, stealing one’s hat from which one has sentimental value to, and then go on some sloppy irresponsible tangent about your child, who, thank god, was left alone in your apartment, and not with the goon you came to the party with, EVALUATE YOUR SITUATIONS BETTER. I could only link such irresponsible lapses in your judgment that likely led to your early-pregnancy, which was likely from that fuck-off you were with dressed as a panda. What I mean is, you are ir.... [Exceeded word limit.]
It all started out like any other typical shopping experience at Fred Meyers (on Hawthorne). I was finished with my shopping and had to return to yet another fun line to buy myself smokes. I was in line behind you as you railed into the customer service lady for god knows what, making sure all of us around you knew that you were so important. Yes, you are a cocksucker. You should get that as a shirt I thought.
Anyway, on my way out and I realize I forgot cash. I head over to the ATM and there you are again. Yay, another line.
Watching you get another fix of self entitlement isn't much fun after a few minutes so I go read a magazine nearby. I lookup and finally, you have left.
As I approach the ATM I hear beeping. The screen reads a familiar prompt. "Would you like another transaction"? I press yes then the balance inquiry. Wow! You got some loot there little man.
I next press withdrawl and then the 400 dollar button.
It all comes out and I feel an unexpected surge of excitement.
Thanks for the dough asswipe!
Possibly I was late to the boat on this or what. But I would really like to see Foster the People when they are in town for December to Remember. I looked online and tickets are obviously sold out but face value were only $20 or $25. Excuse me if I can't remember.
My problem is this. All of the idiots and scum bags selling tickets for $75 and up. ARE YOU KIDDING ME? Firs off the dealers on there are just plain idiots. Second the people selling tickets that are locals should be fucking ashamed of themselves. Isn't Portland all about helping your neighbor or some shit like that. Then why the fuck are you trying to triple you're money? I mean at least start at $60. I just love how they are all saying well its sold out. Yea because you idiots bought all the fucking tickets and are trying to rape us with you're prices.
If you see them on Craig's list send a nasty text and tell them to fuck off. Btw. Says right on Craig's list not to post tickets more than face value.... Oops.
I am fortunate to be in generally good health and so rarely need to frequent your business. However, I occasionally suffer from mild but non the less humiliating maladies and must drag myself to the drug store for some relief.
I am not that old but I do recall a pastoral time when the local pharmacy exercised some level of discretion. A customer could buy condoms, "feminine hygiene" products, adult diapers and the like as the pharmacist quietly allowed you some level of dignity so you could return home to care for your ills.
Now, it seems the the check out line is viewed as yet another sales opportunity, and I am heavily solicited to apply for a "Walgreens Savings Card, " donate to a charity, enticed to purchase gift cards or a "King Sized" Snickers. So, no thank you. I'm not really feeling comfortable providing your clerks with personal information for your savings card while my tube of ass cream and bottles of wart remover linger on the counter between us. Just let me buy items quietly and quickly and let me get the fuck out of there so I can attend to my throbbing, strangulated hemorrhoid in miserable peace.
This isn't really a rant, more a business proposition for the Mercury staff. So, the Lovelab. Don't tell me you all haven't thought about collating the majority of these and creating a book ala "Stuff White People Like." No one would ever believe that most of 'em weren't made up. Hateful, I know, but could they be any more cliche? Highly doubtful, and my sympathies go out to all those looking for love on the net—-I understand times have changed and whatever, and whatever you all need to do is cool, but goddamn! So trite and corny! Don't try so damn hard! Trust me, you aren't really all that interesting.
That's some comedy gold yr hoarding, Mercury. Let's print it up and share in the wealth.
Though, the window for it may have passed, I know. No worry—-I can still get my daily chuckle reading them! Thanks! And think about it!
Lucky Lab, I love ya, but you really need to deal with your crap-ass wobbly tables. We are not talking about the little annoying wobble that one can eventually get past, no - some of your tables move about 6" up and down. Add in the uneven floors, and there really is no point in the table at all. So listen up: rent the big drum sander and level the fuck out of those floors. Then get your screwdriver and get to work on the tables. Hell, you could even get some new ones - some of those would not make St. Vincent's cut. Seriously, people, have some pride.
Mr. Neighbor Man, please stop feeding the birds. Not only are you attracting a multitude of animals to the area, you are not doing the birds any favors. And yes, I've heard the old line: "we've taken away their habitat, so I must feed them... blah, blah, blah". Really? So you say that humans have taken away their habitat, and now you want to take away the last thing they have left and that is to fend for themselves? You want these animals and birds to be completely dependent on Man? And what if you move, or die? They've become so dependent on you for food, and now you're gone? What will they do then? Feeding the birds is strictly for selfish reasons because you "like to watch them". Get over yourself, you selfish human and let animals be animals. Stop feeding the birds! Goddamn humans.
You stole my bicycle! My only form of transportation other than my feet. I'm so, so happy that you stole my beautiful, shining, white bicycle! Now I'm going to get really in shape while I jog everywhere! So I'll be completely broke and hungry, but really, really hot and in shape! I'll jog to my shitty, low-income job! Where I will spend a lot of time dealing with the public comprised mostly of thoughtful people just like you! And then I'll dash home! Where I will spend my free time looking for a better paid job with health insurance! I guess now I'll be able to do that in my underwear since I'll be so hot! Oh, but we can't afford to heat our place right now, so never mind. You see, what I really want is nice enough employment to be able to save up for a car! But seriously, who needs a car in Portland if you've got...oh, wait. YOU'VE GOT MY BIKE! Oh, you devilish cad, you! You really shouldn't have. NO SERIOUSLY! You fucking asshole! You probably knew that I was shopping at Goodwill for a Halloween costume so I could have a little bit of cheap fun this weekend while you were ripping me off! I suppose that I should be grateful that you are helping me be more productive in life. No Halloween costume. No fun. Just more looking for better work so now I can save up for a new bicycle. Thanks bunches. Get bent.
Take away those little tip boxes, goddamn it. I'm not going to tip your sorry ass for brewing a little bit of espresso and throwing in some hot water. It's not like making a coffee is hard.
Want to know what's hard? What bartenders and waitresses do. Not you. You get minimum wage. If you work at Starbucks you get decent health insurance. Stop scowling at me if I don't through a dollar into your pathetic little tip box and just give me my coffee.
With less attitude. Fuck.
To people who constantly complain about my cat: I want to tell you to go to hell. I do indeed give my animals a lot of freedom, but only because I respect them so very much. I have known pain and loss all too well when it comes to my pets and I want to make sure that my current cat, Hanky-Poo, lots of freedom. I lost a cat about 15 years ago due to what assume was old age, even though he was only 4 years old.
I bought a new one shortly after, but he died too, from starvation. The next cat I bought I made sure to feed, and he lived to be about 3, but he died suddenly after being crushed by my truck one night after I came home from the bar. It is really difficult to convey the pain one feels after losing something so suddenly and without any reason. God does work in mysterious ways, I guess.
But, my old Hanky-poo keeps me company and welcomes me every day when I get home. He's an outside cat by force, for I don't really want to deal with cleaning litter boxes or buying cat food. Plus, the old lady down the street feeds the resident feral cat population and Hanky joins in on the feast, which saves me money. If I had one complaint, I would say that his constant meowing at the front door in the middle of the night drives me nuts! It's especially annoying in the middle of winter because opening the door to scare him away causes a really draft and lets out the heat. But, I love him nonetheless. Go to hell!
I finally got to meet you last Friday by chance. I was walking home from the bus stop a few blocks away with a bike wheel in tow, & you were conveniently parking your Mini Cooper illegally.
Why do you think that the laws don't apply to you? Everyone else has to park in parking meters ( which are free @ night ) or find Legal free spaces. It's illegal to park by RED CURB or more obviously right in front of a STOP SIGN/ or FIRE HYDRANT.
I don't care that you work at the University & belong to a bicycle Co_OP. I shouldn't have to tell you to not to park your vehicle illegally, which obstructs traffic flow on a pubic street. I have almost been killed countless times while turning into that very street, only to be hit head on by a vehicle that didn't have room to stop, because you parked in front of the Solid White Stop Line. I don't want to get killed because of your sense of entitlement of illegal parking & lack of reading skills of pubic road signage.
I don't regret calling the Cops & will continue to do so until you're making daily trips wayward to fish out your impounded vehicle. Enjoy making payment to the City Leadhead!
Do you people know what a double yellow line means? I mean, I assume you have passed the driving test and are in possession of a valid driver license. Let me refresh your feeble minds: a double yellow line means that you cannot cross it. You can't make a turn across a double yellow line, you fucking idiots. Have you noticed where some of these lines are painted? Like, right after an intersection and do you know why they are painted right after an intersection? Because if you try to turn there, you are going to block traffic AND the intersection and create a hazard! I see you just sitting there blocking the intersection, completely oblivious to your surroundings. MOVE! The driving test is the ONLY test in this fucking country where almost 100% of the people pass it. Do you really think that is just a coincidence? NO! It means that every fucking idiot and simple minded moron can "pass" this test. And it also means that your stupidity is going to interfere with other people's lives. Remember: you can't cross a double yellow line! Be stupid all you want, but when your stupidity impedes my forward motion, then I'm going to hate you. And I do. I hate you.
To the "Timbers" bar owners who say they show Timbers games...frig off! I called two to three local sports bar businesses who said they, "play Timbers games," and today, during the last regular season game, said they would NOT air it! Why don't you stop curtailing to the baseball world series crowd, whose local teams aren't even in the world series, and open up just one television for your home team? Since the NBA can't deal with their shit right now, why not support your other home team to the fullest? I might be zealous, but when you say you're gonna have a game played on the poster at your establishment, then you'd better fucking present! Next season when the Timbers and Blazers finally play, I will not join you for a drink, or a beer!
To the owners of the popular local restaurant who happen to live across the street from me: Yes, I can see you. I can see you pile your garbage in a dilapidated trailer parked on the side of your house. I have also seen you urinate in your driveway, early in the morning after you and your friends have stayed up all night drinking. And I've seen you grab your genitalia while walking around your front yard. You are gross and I tell everyone I know not to eat at your grease pit. I tell them about the nasty behavior you exhibit at your house, and therefore must be doing the same at your restaurant. I don't even know how to start a business and a Neanderthal like you has accomplished this? I mean, weren't there forms and permits? Isn't there inventory that needs to be ordered? Aren't there things that require some amount of intelligence in order to start a business? I am confused... and disgusted by you. Bon appetit, those of you who eat there!
If I have to see another person in public shove a fucking burrito into their mouths, I'm going to lose it. Or, those of you who insist on cramming a handful of french fries into your yappers, you fucking disgust me. Did your parents not teach you manners? Do you eat like this at home? Jesus fucking Christ! Go home and stuff your fucking face for once, not everyone wants to see you gorge yourself in public. And while you're there, put on a fucking shirt for once.
Okay, I get it. You got out of High School and joined the military and went and fought in some retarded wars that I (politely) disagree with, but still paid for with my taxes. Now you're back home. Hooray for our soldiers! They're the best! Support our troops! Now move on with your fucking life.
Stop trolling the editorial pages of newspapers with insane letters, shitting up my facebook posts with your aggro rants and logic of, "it's worse in other countries I've been there, maaaan", shouting in my face about "HOW YOU GOT SHOT AT FOR MY FREEDOM," when you act like a pushy drunk at the bar. You obviously skipped out on the PTSD therapy and counseling which my tax dollars are paying for, and your insane and hateful political beliefs aren't justified by the fact that you enlisted when you were too young to know what you were signing up for. Stop using your service record like a bludgeon to show how your opinions and beliefs are superior to those of other people who went and got an education and a decent job.
Make something out of your life before you end up like one of those homeless Vietnam vets who we laughed at 25 years ago in school. I expect that I'll be seeing you sleeping under a park bench 20 years from now if you don't quit ranting against the poors and the brown people and the hippies, and guess what will happen then? My taxes will still be paying for your unwashed, alcoholic, mentally ill ass. My "hippy, liberal, overeducated" politics will be taking care of YOU.
Okay yall, I will confess to taking my shirt off at dance shows as a cheap ploy for some female attention but after witnessing it objectively last night I am making the promise to NEVER do it again. Not only were you the shirtless spasmodically dancing gnome that managed to almost knock my teeth out with those flailing elbows of yours (where I come from we call that a seizure, not dancing) but you had the uncanny ability to materialize on EVERY spot of the dance floor.
Look, I believe that "IF YOU GOT IT FLAUNT IT" but now I find that the only men with bodies good enough to get away with that shit are (me, of course) and GAY MEN. When YOU do it, it just looks ridiculous...and shave your beard: when you look like Bob Ross in the throws of a Molly binge you might not be attracting the type of tail you set out to...just saying.
Look, homeless people, there are places all over the fucking city where you can wash your skanky ass. Showers feel good, they clean you. Imagine that! Clean! And then won't stink up public transportation with your vile combination of hooch, sweat, dick cheese and vomit.
The reason the smell is so offensive? It means you fucking carry disease. You know for the longest time scientists thought that's how diseases were transmitted? It's the most obvious thing, something that smells of bacteria is bad fucking news.
So clean your vile stinking ass up so the rest of us don't feel like we need to vomit when we get near you. You fucking plague bearers.
Me - seat 16D
You and whole white trash family - approximately rows 15 through 17 seats ABC
Here's a hint fuckers - your 2 year old is crying and screaming because you brought a baby on a goddamn red-eye flight. It isn't crying becuase you haven't fed it, or drugged it with codene cough syrup (like MY MOTHER used to because she had respect for others), or haven't said "shh" enough. That plane was filled with people who had to work the next morning, and were hoping for 3 or maybe even 4 hours of sleep. But no - we had to stay awake to watch all of you and wonder just how people can get away with this shit while normal people have to put our mouthwash in a motherfucking ziplock bag. Drop dead assholes. Sincirely, seat 16D.
I appreciate you letting me stay at your place for the night, I would've thought that I could have had a pleasant, uninterrupted sleep... In this case it was more of a nap, but why? I'm a very light sleeper when I get a few drinks in me, so a lot of things can awaken me. A flush of a toilet, a closing door, but from you guys it was the moans and groans of boning. Come on! I haven't slept in days! I understand that you just want to get your rocks off. Maybe if your room wasn't so close to where I was sleeping it would have been fine. I wasn't gonna stay for the grand finale, so I left as quickly and quietly as I could be. I hope you guys had a great, superb fuck.
To the bands of a free show on Oct 18th at a notable Mississippi Ave. venue,
Do you love what you do, or is it just moderately more interesting than wanking at home? I'm not asking for much. I don't need to see shining figure-skater smiles or anything. It's just that, if you want to connect with the crowd, you should show them that you believe in what you do.
Band #1: If you're really that chill live, let us know. We'll bring a book and let you fade into the background.
Band #2; You rocked some tasty grooves, made me wanna shake it, but I held back cuz you were all a bunch of wooden Vulcans. I think I saw your keyboardist smile a coupla times, but she may have just been breaking wind. Give a little passion, and we'll pay you back. If you're gonna kick it like that, let us see you feeling it!
PS: I'm biased, cuz I work in optics, but just because your Great Aunt died and doesn't need her glasses anymore, that doesn't mean you shoulda snatched her specs from her casket. The same goes for all you damn hipsters and your ironically unfashionable fashions; stop stealing Grandpa glasses from the Lyon's Club donation box!
Band#3: I was buzzed when you came on, so I reserve critique.
For all of you: are you just nervous? Hell, I'd be. Chug a PBR, yak it off the edge of the stage, (the floor's concrete, so no worries) and play on. Remember; nothing you do can end the world. Get out there and let your feelings show. Do you really have anything to lose?
Bottom line: If you love your art, own it, and let it show. That's what we'll respond to.
After a Sunday dinner at my parents, I was heading home via #4 tri-met. You got on and sat across from me. Unfortunately for those riders seated nearby, I was fluffin' out some serious funk dust. The casserole, coffee, and wine had caught up with me. My farts were so bad, one had to know that my food baby was crowning its head. You didn't seem to mind at all, even though most people's eyes would have melted in their heads. You just kept on reading your Weekly. After about 20 minutes, my farts totally ceased, but you started up with your own little stench! You must have inhaled or ate my smell because your farts were mine! How damn rude of you! I almost said something about it but what could be said for you? You burgled my turd, dude. Uncool.
Jesus fuck people. I'm walking here! (Ok that was lame right? You know that was completely unscripted?)
I'm a good little pedestrian who waits for the white walky guy before crossing the road. I don't cross on the timer. I patiently wait for my turn regardless of what other pedestrians are doing. But almost every fucking time one of you assholes tries to turn into me, or rush me because you just fucking happen to need to be somewhere. Knock it off you jackasses. One day one of you will hit me, I'm sure of it because you don't pay attention and you just HAVE TO GET TO PILATES ON TIME.
And don't act like it's some big goddamned favor when you wave me across the road half way through an intersection. Right on red is a privilege, not a right. You know most countries don't even have that kind of a rule? Probably because of self involved assholes like you. I also don't know why but this is more of a problem in the Pearl and NW.
To reiterate: STOP TRYING TO FUCKING HIT ME.
I have been coming to your food cart since you opened almost 3 times per week for lunch and everytime you tell me that you are so slow and that I need to come everyday and I tell you I cannot afford it. I always leave with great guilt that your business is not doing well because of your lack of traffic. I too have a business that could use seeing you at least once, but you have never come to see me. So for making me feel bad for coming to eat at your cart I say _ FUCK YOU and hope that you stop bitching and be more grateful that I spend my hard earned money in your piece of shit cart. I am so over you and your bitching.
If you care about someone you’ve dated, even just a little bit, you won’t break up over email. Or worse, text! (Post-its are sooo last decade). Without the exchange that is only possible with an actual conversation, the dumpee could spend weeks, months, or more trying to figure out what they did wrong, and how it is that they suck so badly that they don’t even deserve a face to face or telephone discussion about why you’re moving on. They may read your brief excuse over and over and over trying to figure out what really happened. At least you could give them closure. You know, so they can understand the problem, maybe correct their behavior, and not have the sting of your ice-cold move impact every relationship moving forward. A digital dump just creates more people out there in the dating world who are afraid to open up. And isn’t that the root of most relationship problems? We can’t communicate our needs, feelings, desires, frustrations, or allow ourselves to get close? By hiding behind a brief note (L8TR… NOT!), you’ve just moved both parties (dumper and dumped) backwards. So saddle up, do the hard work that relationships require, and give your not-so-special someone the courtesy of a good ole fashioned break-up. You’ll both feel better in the end, and maybe even learn a lesson or two in the process about what it takes to make a relationship work. Um, like, talking?!
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