Your "hair" person and I made fun of you when you left after getting your refit or upgrade - whatever you call it - for your toupÉ. We took turns putting your "new hair" on and pretending to be a fake-tan-body-builder-convertible-driving-guy like you. It was fun, I won't lie. But then I started feeling bad about it. You are young and very bald and that fact appears to drive you crazy, judging by all the compensation you are engaged in. Seriously, you should just shave it the rest of the way off, you have a well-shaped head. And to be honest, you can tell it's a rug from 10 feet away.
Dear Crappy Trimet Driver: My wife was on your #72 bus in her wheelchair yesterday after her errands, expecting to get dropped off a block from home — until you announced that *you refused to drive your bus' assigned route* because of Last Thursday. You dumped her on Killingsworth and made her roll herself all the way to Alberta. Thought you might like to know that by the time she got home she was in tears from the pain, and it will take her days to recover.
Hope it was worth it not to inconvenience yourself. Way to show your committment to helping the community. Way to show your committment to helping the disabled. Way to make it clear what your *real* priorities are. You suck.
To the kind, adorable, tattooed hair professional at my local hip barbershop. I'm a balding divorced dad out of a long sexless marriage. You've got the art of conversation, something my wife and many male friends lack. Thanks for playing Sharon Jones and the Dap, but most of all thanks for the extra time on the neck and behind my ears with that buzzer. I don't know if it was my silence or non stop goosebumps, but you must have sensed it felt heavenly. Hope you enjoyed the last 8 minutes as much as my deprived soul. There is hope. Thank you.
To the holier-than-thou couple standing at the front of the Refused/Sleigh Bells show tonight, I hereby curse all of your judgmental middle fingers to rot off the bone, causing you to have creepy skeleton fingers for the rest of your miserable lives. You stood at the very front of the floor during Sleigh Bells, with your headphones in, immobile, flipping off the band as they gave their best to a small crowd of mostly disinterested people waiting to see The Refused. I suggested, more politely than you deserved, that there were a lot of people who were excited to see them, and if you didn't like them, you could move to the back of the room, the balcony, or outside. That they're guests of The Refused-who stand for tolerance and integration-and I doubt they'd be proud to see their fans hating on the opening act. Instead, you started bitching, naturally. "What the hell do they stand for? What does her clothing say? This is high school music. Blah whine mainstream blah." Proudly, you two stood strong in your protest of opening bands without overt political messages, in your rage against high school music (guess what, dickbags, we all listened to Refused in high school!), and then tried to pick a fight after the set. How tolerant! How in line with The Refused's message! Who are you shallow, self-righteous, yippie assholes to stand in judgement? Nothing was keeping you there, and I'm sure that if The Refused had noticed your little demonstration, they would have told you to fuck off.
I have been living in Portland for going on 15 years at this point. I understand it’s a special place, people have the feeling they can let loose and be open here. I can get behind your choice to be Vegan, ride a bike naked, rock hairy armpits, give up your car and ride your bike everywhere. I get it, that footloose and fancy free Portland feeling. But I have to draw the line in the sand with this one. I was in Buchman park today when I saw it. You yelling for your child to hurry up, her yelling back she was almost finished…..Finished doing what you might ask; Taking a steaming Duke right in the middle of the soccer field. Ok kids will be kids and we all know no dogs allowed here because they don’t want dookie in the field when the kids are playing. So Mother is going to go clean it up right? I mean 10 people just watched your precious little girl drop a steaming pile right where we want to be playing Frisbee. Not at all, she just looked on as if it was completely normal. What the fuck Portland, we have laws that you have to scoop up after your dog, but because no sign is posted about feral children it’s fine to leave a Hurking shit unattended. So city of Portland,; Sam Adams whoever may read this, can we get an addition to the ordinance for people to scoop up after their children? Is this what we have regressed to?
You know those movies where the protagonist just won't let himself be kept down? He gets knocked down, but he gets up again over and over until at last, his determination wins the day?
Real life does not work that way.
I was an aspiring author. I was writing in a genre where a lot of the books were condescending pieces of crap, all these first-person, poorly-written love triangles that were significant only in their astounding triteness. Even the readers and bloggers of the genre despised these elements and were sick of how condescending they were.
I wanted to deliver something better than that. I wrote manuscript after manuscript after manuscript, and got shot down again and again. Finally, the day came— my book was getting published. It was a long, hard road.
Then the book came out. I was handed to the most inept PR person in the imprint while a trite love triangle got all the publicity money, and those bloggers and readers so sick and tired of tacky, condescending love triangles? Filled their blog with reviews of tacky, condescending love triangles. They complained about them, sure, but they publicized them.
My book got great reviews, and was called refreshing, best book in the genre this year, etc.... And it utterly tanked and vanished into oblivion.
Herein ends the heroic journey. Here's to you, life!
When your dog darts in the middle of the road, I'm going to tell you to fucking leash it before it dies. When you almost run me over when I'm going to tell you to go fuck yourself. When you run a red light on your fixie and almost smash into me, I'm going to call you a fucking dick.
And guess what? I mean it. I'm not afraid of you. But you, you refuse to account for your asshole behavior. Instead of confronting me or the situation you yell back *as you're walking away*
No doubt you're thinking of all the things you could have said to me a good 20 minutes later. Burning with impotent rage.
So next time, either get back in my face or admit you were wrong. But don't shout random shit at me as you walk way, you fucking coward.
I dunno what I did to offend you, but yelling "cocksucker" at me is pretty fucking stupid. We're in SE Portland in 2012. You ride a fixed speed bike with a long beard and cycling cap, so I assume you're not a RNC delegate, but I guess you're a homophobe. It's OK to be a cocksucker and using it as an insult for some perceived minor traffic infraction is really stupid at this point.
Fuck you and the horse you rode in on. You cant try and speak for people you have had 30 seconds worth of conversation with. Thats not how it works. You barely know any of these people, yet felt it was ok to soapbox your opinions and then drag them in it. All you did was manage to damage your future relationships with these people. Not that you care... You are too busy looking down on us from your "MENSA" pedestal. Well Mr. Smarty-Pants, if you are so smart, why are you so stupid when it comes to dealing with people?
I for one am glad that this ended how it did. At least in the future most of us wont have to deal with your social awkwardness. Interactions with people shouldn't feel like its a chore and you made it more than a chore.
If I wanted to deal with people like you, I would register an Reddit account.
Hey HIPPIES! Thanks for ruining my incredible swimming hole. I’ve been going to this secluded beach to escape the heat for years, but you managed to ruin it in one single day. Even though there have always been other people there from all walks of life, everyone always managed to keep to themselves, be quiet, and enjoy this hidden gem. But YOU couldn’t do this. YOU feel compelled to constantly try to draw attention to yourselves. So you bring a large smelly group of dreadlocked dumbshits. And you play flutes. And you play harmonicas. And you walk on (but mostly fall off of) tightropes. And you put your pet snake in the water for everyone to be terrified of. And you’re incredibly LOUD and obnoxious and smell like you bathe in your own feces. Then to top it all off, you leave behind a massive pile of garbage to rot on the beach. Stop being so selfish, disgusting and self-absorbed. Life isn’t a circus. You’re just a bunch of losers without any ambition or any purpose in life beyond annoying other people. Take your pet snake home, wash the shit-smell off of your body, and be respectful to other people. And stay away from my fucking swimming hole.
I have had it with you, Portland women. Everywhere I have been in this country the females are better looking and ten times more friendly and approachable. You all seem to be so caught up in being Queen of the Average Looking that you actually have started to believe you are all that. You are not. Sorry every boy in Asshole, Indiana never gave you a second look. Maybe he would have if you did not dress like you lost your eyesight and maybe put down the beer and pot. Oh yeah, I have a girlfriend. She's from the burbs and likes to eat at Red Robin. So have fun with your smack-addict boyfriends. I won't miss you.
Great that this VD is sticking around longer than you. Thanks. I decided to be celibate forever rather than put anyone else through the trauma. I dated a guy once that told me he had herpes on the third date. I was shocked and grateful because I didn't want HSV! I never saw him again. Here's a piece of advice: be up-front. Just telling someone that there is a risk shows so much character. Your forthright admission will be appreciated by both camps. You are not alone. Accept that some will embrace you and the ones that shun you? It probably wasn't meant to be anyway. The Bonus is that if they say, "Yah! Give it to me, baby!" Then you'll know it's true love.
Nobody's going to take your 52" projection-era behemoth from the curb where you left it, especially once they find out that it has that chucklefuck of a dog from Duck Hunt permanently burned into the screen, permanently mocking the viewer on each channel.
I don't care if it cost $5k in 1987, analog TV has been off the air for three years now. Fuck a converter box, nobody wants to deal with that crap. And if they're poor enough that they have to deal with it? Then they likely don't have the space to house a giant-ass 1980s pantydropper anyhow. End the delusion and recycle that shit before the fall rains deposit ten pounds of water inside it, and I have to complain to the city about how you can't part with the memory of that one time twenty-five years ago when that chick seemed impressed by the size of your major appliance (but ended up leaving when she found out you didn't have any coke, let alone know anyone who sold it).
Okay we get it. You are the greatest planner that ever lived. But your ego is making everyone fucking crazy. Quit replying to everyone with your flip mouth, be grateful for your fucking job that every MURPer in Pdx would throw their baby off the roof for, and STFU and do your job. Oh, and try working 8 - 5 for a change instead of bitching about your working work load all the time while you are at it. We are all fucking sick of you. It will come back to bite you in the ass, wait and see.
I love your yard sales but after they're over PULL THE SIGNS THE FUCK DOWN! I'm willing and happy even to look through your old junk and pay you for it, but goddamnit I don't have endless money for gas to drive all over town for yard sales that have already happened. That's why I'm buying your old stuff you jackasses.
We were driving home after work last week- it was a crazy day, and we had a larger SUV STUFFED with a Vespa project that we're stoked to be working on. We stopped at the NE 15th/Fremont intersection & waited for the light. You, dirty ass, pulled up to our right & waited. Must be turning right- there's only one lane & there's a parked car immediately in front of us after he light. When we get the green light we go forward- AND REALIZE YOU'RE DUMB ASS IS GOING TO TRY TO PASS ON ON THE RIGHT ON A 1 LANE STREET, WITH PARKED CARS. We both screamed because we thought you would either slam in to our door or the parked car coming up. You shouted "I'm going faster than you!" WHAT. No. We even stopped to avoid a collision & you never stood a chance at passing. Anyway, we were driving 30 in a 25 with speed bumps- how fast were YOU planning on going? DON'T BE AN IDIOT. I DON'T WANT TO BE YOUR DUMB ASS' DEATH BECAUSE YOU FELT LIKE LOOKING COOL. Also, wear a real helmet & something better than a tank top. I hope you get in a mild wreck that totals your bike & scrapes up your arm. You're a menace.
So thanks to your meth induced hystaria, my dog now awaits a murder trial for killing your cat. Why? Oh yeah thats right because you ; let your "injured" cat outside to relieve it's self where it then decided to take a stroll all the way to the other end of the block and into our open window where my dog and daughter were playing! So sorry your disease riddled feline had the audacity to scratch my child. So sorry my dog protected her home and family by eliminating your flee infested feline from the face of the earth! Maybe you should invest in a litter box instead of spending your welfare money on drugs.
When I found the apartment I ended up renting from you, I was so excited – it was the only affordable one that I could find in North Portland. What wasn't so exciting was a week later, when I was at the gym and I had to stop running, because my lungs were burning and I had severe chest pain. It only got worse over the course of the next month that I lived in your toxic ass building, where it actually HURT TO BREATHE. I eventually had so much trouble breathing that I couldn't even ride my bike, which is especially obnoxious because that's the way I got around town. The only friend that I had over during the month I lived there had an asthma attack after only being in the apartment for an hour, and they are not asthmatic! I moved out, and you repeatedly refused to give me my deposit back. I went to your office with thirty-four people, and demanded that you return it. You did mail me a check for a full deposit refund, included a letter that assured me that you help “the elderly and artists” have affordable apartments, AND THEN YOU CANCELLED THE CHECK! I had to pay a cancel check fee, am having severe respiratory problems six months after moving out, and still can't ride my bike or exercise. I don't have health insurance, and the bills are stacking up. To my old landlord and his accompanying “art community”: I assure you that I am an elderly artist, now give me back my $500 so I can pay for the health care I need to recover from renting an apartment from you!
Dang, I'm sorry. I couldn't hold it another fifteen blocks. Walking down 48th off Holgate a shit-time bomb was set in my ass. The darkest place to take care of this urgent matter was unfortunately under your tree, in your yard. I'm sure my soft serve surprise was nothing a hose and a grimace couldn't handle. That's your problem. Here's mine: The only thing I had to wipe with was my favorite Iron Maiden shirt. I'm sure it's long gone but if by some chance you are a fan enough to have salvaged shit-faced Eddie from the "dump" just hang it on the tree. I'll check every night, and if I see it, I will leave a crisp twenty in it's place. Kinda like the tooth fairy.
I don't regularly go out for groceries at 9:00pm in Buckman expecting to get in a spectacular confrontation with a driver that ends in me u-locking their car, but you, ma'am, made that possible the other night.
And I want to thank you.
I was actually pretty chill last night. You, siding me for four blocks, laying on your horn, following me through intersections, and trying to run me off the road — I was actually pretty chill about all that, and ready to just ignore it.
Usually people just go away. But you? You persevered. That last little maneuver you did, where you tried to run me into another car—that was the kicker. I thought, hell, why not? I’ve always wanted to bash in someone’s tail light with my u-lock, and here’s my chance!
One of *the* most liberating experiences of my life. You know those fire extinguishers behind glass? How you always want to break it? That’s exactly what it felt like, putting my ulock into your tail light.
In your attempt to chase me down, you insisted, “I just wanna talk...!” Yeah right. All we’ve got to talk about is how you probably shouldn’t drive your car in Buckman anymore. If you don’t like cyclists, use Belmont, use Hawthorne, use Stark. Don’t drive through Buckman if you don’t. like. cyclists.
You’ll be happy to know I busted a tube hopping a curb in the post-ulocking chase. This morning, I’m walking down to the shop and grabbing a new one for $4.
How much does a new tail light cost?
Ahh, troll fodder. Like a glistening new vibrating Fleshlight from Spartacus, the trolls come and wrap the words around their lonely bits and pieces, spraying their sticky white ignorance all over the comments section. Whores calling the skank a slut. I notice most of you might just be intelligent, witty people— who truly enjoy the masturbatory (not to mention mentally questionable) action of shitting all over another human being who merely needs to vent. Are you just a bunch of poor souls who think everyone needs to believe the -exact- same thing as you do? Why not get offline and get a girlfriend/boyfriend/fuck buddy/pet/part-time job/education? Seriously, I promise, there is more to life than shitting on another person. If you don't think there is more to life than shitting on another person, why not get paid for it? Scheisse porn, people. It must be so embarrassing for all you Rumpelstiltskins out there, having your name guessed, flying into a rage and pulling yourself apart at the seams like you do all the time.
I don't know if you are just a horrible driver or if you were indeed trying to kill me with your giant white work truck today but one thing is for certain: You keep driving like that someone is going to get very fucked up.
You first got my attention when you ran the light coming off the southbound I-5 exit at Rosa Parks, missing me by mere inches. The second instance was not a minute later while going north on Interstate when you tried to squeeze past me where there was no room - this time your side mirror that sticks out about three feet actually grazed my head,(I'm on a bicycle if you haven't figured it out yet) And the third time, as you caught back up to me at Fred Meyer, you attempted to right-hook me without signalling and left me no other option than to fly onto the sidewalk, between some pedestrians and into a parked car.
This was obviously beyond what normal people are willing to tolerate so will a full head of steam I attempted to locate your giant white deathmobile with with limousine-black windows and Washington plates. No luck.
I'm not even sure what I would have done had I found you. I'm pretty sure you are an impressive dickhead and would not have admitted the error of your ways. Hell, maybe you knew exactly what you were doing and just don't give a shit. All I know is you are a menace and if you haven't put someone in the hospital or worse with your belligerent driving you soon will.
I only wish I had thought to get your license plate number.
You're insane. Stop sending me emails, winks, flirts etc calling me a prick, an ass, a "little girl", etc because I'm not 420 friendly and will not date you. Stop getting your rocks off by harassing me over the internet. It's bad enough that I'm trying online dating, but having to deal with your hateful, trolling ass is stressing me the fuck out. I've blocked you, reported you and yet you seem to continue to spew hate at me.
I don't even write you back, make things personal - I just ignore you or tell you, "Better luck elsewhere, but I'm not 420 friendly." Thus triggered some verbally abusive switch in you.
Get over it! Not everyone smokes weed in Portland! And guess what - I don't care that you do!!
You're a freak.
What year is it?
Yes, we already know that fluoride is poisonous. Sam Adams is an idiot. How the hell are we gonna pay for this? $5 million to further poison the city's water supply. Great. You a David Wu staffer?
Please Portland, please. This isn't 1955.
It was so nice to read about your adorable wedding.
More recently, it was also nice to discover that you have been sharing photos of yourself wearing high heels for my (now ex-)boyfriend to masturbate to.
It was sweet of you to say you were ‘so glad he found someone who makes him happy.’
In case you were wondering, yes, you were the reason we broke up.
I hope karma repays the both of you for your indiscretion.
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