You know, I appreciate you standing outside in the bitter cold, working for a cause in which you really believe. What I don’t appreciate, however, is YOU getting all up in my FACE with that stupid binder/clipboard of yours, trying to desseminate all the facts and horrors compiled in your shiny little brochure and gather whatever personal information you need from me.
1. I’m listening to music. Partly because I need to get that song out of my head by listening to it at least 20 times in a row (which never works but hey, I never learn), but mostly to avoid people like you. And you can see that I’m listening to music because my earphones and the wire connecting them to my iPod (product placement WHAT!) are white, thus totally contrasting with my black down jacket that contains many dead birds. Point is, I stuffed my ears with things that emit sound so that I can actually not hear you instead of merely pretending. See that hand in my pocket? It’s turning up the volume. It means get away from me.
2. I’m not looking at you. When did my eyes ever meet yours? Never. I don’t want to look at you because it would somehow be an invitation for you to talk to me, and, in case you haven’t been following, I don’t want you to talk to me. Plus I’m sure you people have some hypnotizing powers, because I always see someone stuck in your invisible tentacles with a pen in hand, scribbling stuff on your binder/clipboard.
3. Not only am I not looking at you, but I’m also frowning. At you. Indirectly. In any case, it’s a meanie face. Don’t come near me.
4. I’m walking uber fast. Am I in a hurry or am I just trying to get away from you? Next time you see me, ask yourself that question. Actually, don’t bother; it’s either one or the other, so either way I can’t and/or don’t want to talk to you.
And despite all this, some of you folks just never learn! Do you do that at bars and parties, too? Jesus jumping up and down…
I don’t care about babies/pandas/polar bears (I actually happen to hate polar bears) enough to stand out there and freeze my ass off in the cold with you. That’s YOUR job; I’ve got mine to do. And, for your information, people who really care don’t wait to be asked on the street by some nagging stranger before giving money; they seek out charitable organizations on their own. Like I do. From the comfort of my home, where it’s rarely below freezing… because, you know, when you ask me to save polar bears in the bitter cold, all I can think of is how nice it would be to have their fur wrapped around me at that very moment.
All I’ve been doing since the beginning of this week is BITCH. Maybe I’ve been generally cranky, or maybe people are lazy fucktards. Help me understand what’s so hard about loading paper into the printer’s paper tray? Help me, because I really don’t understand. Most people at the office, when trying to print something and upon realizing that paper isn’t coming out, see the blinking red light and sit right back down. Look at the screen. Look. Look at the motherfucking screen that’s telling you to load paper into tray 2. Then walk your lazy ass over to the copy room, get a ream of paper, and put some into the printer. See? Not hard.
So once again I found myself loading the paper tray today, and, in the process of angrily shoving paper into the tray, I dropped it. The tray. The tray fell to the floor and a couple of pieces broke off. That, dear friends, is because the printer is now on top of a new cabinet! One that is much taller than the previous one! Why? I DON’T FUCKING KNOW! So my knee wasn’t there to catch the damned thing, and it plummeted to the floor.
In other news, I went to a wedding on Sunday, June 29, and to another one exactly one week later. People ask me, “Do you like weddings?” and I say, “I think so?” Those were my first two “real” weddings. I think I might have gone to two or three as a child, but I’ve only got pictures to help me remember. On the other hand, I’ve been to probably 10+ funerals, so yes, I like weddings.
I was reading some blog and came across a comment that asked something stupid like, “Who is Marie Trintignant?”
Why stupid? No, Marie Trintignant isn’t a household name, nor is she a historically significant person. As a matter of fact, unless you’re French, or a French cinema aficionado, there’s no reason why the name “Trintignant” should ring a bell at all.
But since the context makes it clear that she is (was) a celebrity, and assuming that you’re on the Web at the moment you’re writing that comment (I know it sounds a bit far-fetched but bear with me), why don’t you just LOOK IT UP?
The Internet wasn’t called “the information superhighway” for nothing, after all. So, unless you’re at work, or on a public computer, and you want to find out what bukkake is, I suggest you use it.
“it” being the Internet; not bukkake.
And, in anticipation of any smart-ass comments, I offer you the following links:
ps: Yes, I know the difference between the Internet and the Web, so hold your comments on that, too.