I see you. You grab a jerky log with the tongs provided, what you don't see is this. The disgusting fucker with scabs on her hands doing the same exact thing, only, she didn't use those tongs.
Those "tongs" are probably pretty sanitary, when used.
Yeah right. Like its on the clerks checklist....sanitize jerky tongs, check.
Haw haw, you are eating methhead scabsssss.
McMenamins announces its first four Edgefield summer concerts...Steve Miller Band, Pink Martini, Victoria Justice and fun. Brilliant. The "fanny pack" series. Well, now they announce....Tony Bennett! Now, I am seriously not amused. I dig Tony Bennett...at the Venetian Room in 1971, or singing God Bless America at the World Series, or hearing I Left My Heart on the jukebox at last call at Sivoris....but fer crying out loud McMenamins....not this summer. We're the second greatest generation, the ones who invented Woodstock, Days on the Green, Beatles, Stones, Faces and Dead Kennedys...and now we're lining up for this? Can't wait for Rod sings The Andrews Sisters.
Maybe in another life, but I'm living this one. You're impossible. Scratch that - we are impossible as a couple.
We are fantastic when it's just us, isolated from anyone else; but you think my friends are fake. You spew diarrhea of the mouth to anyone who thinks or behaves differently than you - except at me. Your friends think I'm a dumb liberal and indulge in conflict and are intolerant of anyone different... in anyway.
Whatever allure brought me to you, probably the whole opposites attracts thing? Maybe the bad boy thing? I see an intelligent sexy man, who can be incredibly thoughtful when it comes to just me - but that's not enough.
I can't take the stress of our social circles clashing.
I wish you the best of luck, but I meant it when I said don't call me and if you do, I will not call or text you back.
Not only did you narrowly miss my car while hurdling your Land Rover through the parking lot, you also parked in a handicapped spot (without a permit of course) so that you could make a mad dash to the liquor store. And you smell like Axe. Aren't you too old for that stuff?
To the passive-aggressive bitches standing behind me at the Patti Smith show, have you ever been to a concert before? If you arrive at the last minute, don’t expect the crowd to part like the Red Sea so that you can get to the front; expect to stand behind the people who got there early. Instead of feeling fortunate you were in the presence of a rock legend, you spent most of the concert passive-aggressively bitching to each other (loudly, so we could hear you) about me and my friend not letting you stand in front of us. Fuck you dude. If you want to go to the front so bad, get some cajones and push your way up there instead of standing behind me whining! Who tries to PASSIVE-AGRESSIVELY get up to the stage at a concert? It was like some kind of joke about Generation Y. It’s a rock concert, and life doesn’t owe you shit, least of all the best possible view of Patti Smith. Though actually, I find it hard to believe that you even cared about the music at all since you spent so much time talking, taking instagrams and being dicks instead of listening to the FUCKING AMAZING MUSIC. Look, it’s not my job to placate your shitty sense of entitlement; I don’t even know you, why should I have to change your diaper? And if I ever see any of you again, I’m going to completely shove you into a wall in a totally not passive way. Eat a bag of dicks ladies.
I walk on my two feet one step at a time about 3-5 miles a day. I often walk along bus routes where middle and high school students wait for the bus, the bus that will carry them maybe a mile to school. I have walked by students waiting for the bus, then when I get to their school I wait at the bus stop and see them get off. I am OLD (60 and healthier than some of these 16 year olds) and I get where they are going faster than they do. I have literally seen some students get on the bus at the stop by the school and then seen the same ones get off 6 blocks later! What the Fuck!! My taxes are subsidizing their lazy asses a discount bus ticket to anywhere and they use it to avoid a 5 minute walk. WHAT THE FUCK!!!! They stand there eating their crappy cheetos, drinking sugar water, getting fatter, and getting diabetes. Seriously, put those expensive athletic shoes to some use.
My commute to work takes me along many of Portland's bike routes, and thank you lord for that. As I'm driving along, coffee in hand and NPR catching me up on current events, I see it: Bike Booty. Oh fuck me, I'm helpless when I see 'em.
You know what it is. Bike butt. Bicycle booty. Cycle asses. Tight rain paints, ass muscles flexing to pump that Schwinn up the hill. Good damn, girl. I don't even care if she's middle aged, trying to bike off a few pounds or a nice tight-butted PSU student, these bike butts get me going like a motherfucker.
The confession here is this: I'm going to rear end a fucking car because of this fetish someday, I just know it. Until then, ladies, keep doing what you're doing!
Here I was, a 23-year-old girl bike riding across SE Division St into Ladd's Addition, a middle-aged man bike rides up beside me, as if to pass me. However, he does not pass me. I can feel him looking at me. I look over and halfway smile: I figure he just wants to say hello, as it's a nice day. Instead, he says to me, "You know, your bike's wheel base could be longer." I'm not sure what my face looked like, but it was probably expressing a mixture of confusion, offense, and pure anger. He moves ahead, and I begin to become enraged. My big 'take that' is passing him in fury. Oy vey.
I have a few things to say. First of all, when I talk to a stranger, I begin with "Excuse me", or, I don't know, "Hello!" It's just common decency. Second, I would like to say a couple of lame comebacks: "You could have a dildo in your mouth right now...but you don't. Too bad"; "Maybe you'd get laid more often if your bike didn't have square tubes"; and, "Fuck off". Third, I love my bike, so don't tell me to change it, man. Fourth, I know about bike geometry and I don't want to talk about it with you. And, if you do HAVE to tell me—because your bike is an extension of your cock—please say, "Excuse me". As a rule, world, don't say something to a stranger on a bike!!!!!!!!! ...Gotta find that iPod before I croak from having to listen to what people are saying...
At first I thought you were just a bunch of jerks & then I thought maybe you're just clueless. In any case, are you aware of how shitty it is to sit in the outer seat thereby blocking access to the inner seat on the bus? Well, it's really shitty and it makes you look like an asshole. I mean, nice earrings & haircut & iPod & all, but you still look fresh off the shelf of the local jerkstore as you are committing the second highest of bus crimes right behind not immediately making room for a person in a wheelchair. So now you know. Oh yeah, the jerkstore called and they wanted me to tell you to move it on over.
Hi. Please do not build your development on Thurman Street. I live on Thurman Street in NW Portland. I have a car. You don't care, I'm sure, but I enjoy parking by my house. Your proposed 55 unit dormitory with no parking is unwise. Have you been to Portland, recently? Lots and lots and lots of empty condos. I suggest you keep your development to yourself, in Seattle. Why does Seattle ALWAYS try and start drama with Portland; when Portland just wants to chill, in their comfy 1907 home, two cats in the yard, fire in the fire place, BEING REAL MELLOW, Seattle busts in, throws a full beer can in Portland's face, tears down their house and screams "welcome to my DORM, SISSY BOY!"Always tryin' to start some shit. Well now you have a choice. Thanks for listening. Your compliance would be soooooo great. Also the ground settlement that would occur from your excavation to either neighboring house would be very detrimental to the foundation of your neighbors homes. You say you would like to be a good neighbor. I hope you never get to find out how the laundromat across the street smells weird, often. I found a catheter wrapper on the sidewalk in front of my house the other day. Very strange, very spooky. Thanks!
Today I saw a guy pull his motorcycle onto a sidewalk and stand there poking at his smartphone. Fuck you! Moto cops too.
Furthermore, why do you think it's "okay" to park your overcompensationcycle on the sidewalk when you go shopping / drinking / clubbing? If you're afraid to park it in the street, afraid of it getting scratched— some biker badass you are. Toughen up, nancy.
Your "cafe racer" looks like shit, rides like shit, and only proves that you can point a can of flat black paint at a stationary object. Any dumbshit can fix what is essentially a lawnmower engine and doodle a skull onto the gas tank. Von Dutch you ain't.
To the fuckers who walked out on a $200 tab, fuck you, you fucking fucks. You know who has to pay for that? ME, your waitress. You know what happens if I dont pay for that? I get bullied by my management, suspended and then fired/forced to quit. I chose the former option but didn't make enough money during my 8 hour shift to pay for your shitty wine and overcooked steak. I HAD TO USE MY CREDIT CARD. Which means I will be receiving a little reminder of the worst shift of my life in the form of a credit card bill. You are scum. You deserve to be ripped, limb from limb and fed to wild dogs you stinking sacks of shit.
Ask yourself what month it is. Ya, i'm talking to you cottage cheese shorts wearing shithead. We get over 50 degrees F and you strip down to your no-no's for the world to see? BITCH, you about as fresh as a day-old donut. What is it with people in Portland wearing summer fucktard fun gear as soon as they see the Sun? I don't care if you're buff, tough, and wanna show it. I don't care if you think i'm a pussy 'cause I like layering and "hoody weather." Getting a two second dose of Vitamin D is not a good enough to reason to make me ponder why the fuck I have to vomit, sober, in the middle of the day. At least hold out until the spring solstice, (March 21st), to show off your spare tire accented by those whore-for-sale miniskirts.
So the other week walking home on 28th being in my usual deep well of self loathing I see a happy couple walking the other way. Just the damned perfect picture of happy couple arm in arm. Now my only thing with guy on guy is the beards, that just, i don't know but only thing. Anywho I just glare hatred towards them. Could have been any couple, man-man, man-girl, girl-llama what ever, They were happy and i've been alone for too long. After you return fire i wanted to explain I hate you for being happy with someone. Not who that someone is.
We fell apart during the worst part of my life. I was drinking and smoking (A LOT) to be happy, and was very depressed. I treated you like crap because I lacked the insight and confidence to just break it off and walk away. When you called it quits, it put my problems in perspective and I finally got the help I needed. I'm a better person now, and you're a big part of why that is.
I hope you're doing well. I think of you often, and hope that you've found a guy who treats you right - something I could never do with any consistency. You're great. Maybe someday I'll grow the balls to call you and tell you all of this.
We went on a date two years ago; I felt no sparks but I guess I stuck in your mind, because a year later you asked me out again. This time, I fell hard. It was fantastic to feel that kind of joy and safe enough to belong. Unfortunately, the clash you had with my friends was too much. We argued outside a restaurant for an hour and then you disappeared from my life. No goodbye. No returning my calls. No returning my texts. Nothing.
Silent treatment... for five months, then the "hello, how've you been?" text happens.
I give you a chance to say you're sorry. You say it was the shittiest thing you've ever done and I truly forgive you. You tell me your feelings haven't faded and want to start up again. I can't shake that we're not meant to be together although the chemistry is still there.
We've been doing the "lets be friends" dance for a while now. You're forthcoming that you want more, me on the fence - admitting my feelings for you but believing it unwise to try a third time. There are too many factors that trip us up; communication style, we each clash with the others' friends, our desires in the bedroom, etc.
Last night we had dinner and you said you're over it. No more anxiety about what we are and that you'll just let it be. We're friends.
I can exhale - no more pressure. No more confusion. We friend zoned each other.
But we kissed goodbye. A hot, long kiss goodbye.
Thank you public meeting spaces of Portland, (and the world for that matter), with zero IT savy. You provide fertile ground for me and those like me to hone my skill set. As I write this We are using bit torrent to copy no less than three movies, a porn clip and the last Gaga single, not to mention port scanning the fancy Macbook Air of the guy sitting next of me. The coffee house we are sitting in went to all the trouble of requiring a password to gain access to the wireless, but failed to lock down admin functions. For those with our skill set, not only have you left the front door wide open, but you have put up a Las Vegas sized neon sign that reads "Ignorent and gullible, please exploit". I can see who is plugged into the internet from here and what they are doing, in real time. Credit card transactions from that Ipad you call a register, yep I can see those too. Even if ya'll had made it "difficult" for us by taking BASIC SECURITY PRECAUTIONS, when it comes to computer and network security, the emperor has no clothes. I am Anonymous, and by now, you should expect us...
I want to say that I'm all about whatever various relationships people feel comfortable with, be it same sex, polyamory, monogamy, whatev, get your strange on. But what I take issue with is the attitude against people who want a traditional commitment, in particular women. Like all these other things are valid, but if you want a boyfriend you're a clingy and uptight. I'm tired of watching my lady friends meet guys they like, but stress out over expressing that they really aren't interested in casual sex. We advise each other "You don't want to drive them away" and "don't push it to fast too soon," but inevitably my girlfriends end up sharing physical intimacy without any emotional investment on the part of their suitors, and then being left in the dust. I say fuck that! Enough! Portland dudes, get it together! it's not our responsibility to clarify to you that we want to continue to see you if we like you enough to fuck you. AND that maybe we also are hesitant about commitment but if you want to fuck us you better be down to hang and see what might happen, and I'm not talking booty calls. If you're comfortable enough to do it, you should be comfortable enough to say it: "I want to fuck you but not date you." It's not on us to find a way to ruin the moment by letting you know, in all our shame, that we want the option of exploring the possibilities before or after we share what is arguably the most intimate, sacred act two people can share. It should be a given.
I realize that the Doug Fir draws a scene crowd, but why do roughly a third of the people at shows just hang out in the back chatting? We can hear you! At all times! Do you just see it as a $15 cover charge to go hang out while ignoring the artist you're going to brag about seeing the next day? The Doug Fir is a cool venue with great acoustics. If you don't give enough of a shit to listen to the concert you're attending, leave.
...and TODAY is the one year anniversary that heavily armored FBI Terrorist Gestapo pigs smashed their way into my home at 6am, traumatizing my housemates, destroying parts of our house, and stealing property that they have YET to return, even though the federal D.A. handling this "case" declined to pursue criminal charges months ago (perhaps b/c they did not have jack shit). The FBI's military raid and storm trooper cosplay had less to do with law enforcement than the govt. and its big guns waving their micro-cocks around. And I also read all the nasty things many of YOU PEOPLE had to say about me in the days following (103 comments - that's a record, right?). Just so you know, I ain't mad 'cause I'm still here and kicking ass at life now. So to all of you who gleefully cheered on my supposed downfall... you can all fuck yourselves. Go fuck yourselves.
When my manager is pushing me to apply for management positions within the company, writing a recommendation letter to attach to my cover letter and I continue to get passed over. I've been with the company for 16 months, feel over qualified for my current desk, but I'm happy to put my foot in the door/work my way up. But when my manager is telling me "get out - you're smarter than this" and I can't move up in a company that prefers to hire outside the department - I'm feeling pretty fucking beatin' up.
(Daily grumble - that is all).
Instead I just bumped your trunk with my hand. I get a little angry when you try to run over my wife. Nice driving limey in the Audi!
I'm always amazed at how much people expect from their free entertainment. If you want clever and not just angry go pay for a ticket to see a comedian. You come on here and bash people who are advocating for the poor but it seems to me you're to poor to pay for entertainment. Pretty ironic.
The fact is that American selfishness and greed has become a plague.
I live in a small town. Before I even leave work, people know about it at the coffee clatch kinda shit. I am working a new job and trying to stay Positive in a environment littered with self-pity and long hours. Did I mention I am the Janitor and the men's room is explosive diarrehaville? I clean up some real crime scenes.
My ex is one of my closest neighbors and my ears perk up to the sound of gun shots the other afternoon. I just figured he might be sighting me in and I actually went into the kitchen for some fucking thing or another. Really, I am just plain scared of the guy half the time and naturally assume he is plotting my demise. The other part of my mind tends to feel sorry for him from time to time. It's a real tidy shitshow.
Anyshits, turns out three cougars were crawling outta the canyon and within a few days 3 were seen on our land and shot.I feel sorry for the big cats the first night-as I am part Lioness and always vote team predators. I drank heavily and listened to Neko Case and was a lil freaked out that there were more out there in the dark night.I said a quick prayer for the baby cows and felt somewhat satisfied.
I found out the next day at work that one of those baby cougs nambed my ex's kitty Cracker. Who was an albino space cadet and such a good kitty.Had him and his brother Milk-o for a few weeks before I gave Milk-o to my study mate who needed a kitten for her lil crumbcruncher.
It was the equivalent of an Viking funeral I muttered to no one.
Yeah yeah yeah, I see it. You want me to see it. Your young bubble butt is even more puffier. Yay. You are soooo important; even in your service industry job, that you must have it ready to go at all times.....
I see you texting/instagramming whatever in the bussing section while we are all wanting a refill of water/coffee/booze..
How are you going to pay that phonebill if your tips are so shitty from you being too busy sharing neck tattoo photos than actually working?
I remember when it was a "goody comb" in the back pocket, Greg Kihn on the jukebox, and mullets were the tough guy look.
Oh and your stretched lobes need decrusting......
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