ice-nine and the end of the world
when I grow up I want to be an abusive drunk writer...
-TELCOM CREDIT UNION-
I am standing in line, enter the stupid annoying ugly copy on anna nicole smith only not as pretty and much bigger (yeah, I said not as pretty... yeah...). Also enter her husband, who's as skinny as I am, and about a foot shorter...
the white trash couple starts singing "twelve days of christmas"
ok, first of all I'm not a class warrior. I don't consider myself better than anyone else on appearance alone. But, for god's sake, they were getting the god damn song wrong. if you can't remember twelve simple stupid ass gift that NO ONE would ever want (fuck the geese and the maids where's my books and CDs) THEN DON'T SING ALONG. when I looked back at them I was really hoping to see special olympics medals hanging from their neck. JESUS CHRIST, it's a god damn christmas carol. if you can't think of anything better to do while standing in a line either a. god back to kindergarden or b. drown yourself in a bucket of snow.
after what seemed like an eternity, I looked at her with a look that was supposed to say "you are rude and disgusting. not only are you a damned moron, but you're proud of it. shut up before I dip you in acid"
she says "oh well, someone doesn't like christmas"
not I can't remember wether it was the fact that she mistook my hatred for her as hatred for christmas, or the fact that she was actually trying to make fun of another customer in a god damn bank line, but whatever the reason I semi-snapped. Someone argued with me that what I did constituted a "snap". bullshit. If I had snapped, I would have strangked her with her tiny tiny lover. it wasn't even a semi-snap really.
"no, I don't hate christmas, I hate annoying people."
needless to say the fat bitch (and I say fat bitch in the nicest way possible. only... not.) didn't really appreciate this.
extra credit bastard points if you can tell me what book my entry title is from
-TELCOM CREDIT UNION-
I am standing in line, enter the stupid annoying ugly copy on anna nicole smith only not as pretty and much bigger (yeah, I said not as pretty... yeah...). Also enter her husband, who's as skinny as I am, and about a foot shorter...
the white trash couple starts singing "twelve days of christmas"
ok, first of all I'm not a class warrior. I don't consider myself better than anyone else on appearance alone. But, for god's sake, they were getting the god damn song wrong. if you can't remember twelve simple stupid ass gift that NO ONE would ever want (fuck the geese and the maids where's my books and CDs) THEN DON'T SING ALONG. when I looked back at them I was really hoping to see special olympics medals hanging from their neck. JESUS CHRIST, it's a god damn christmas carol. if you can't think of anything better to do while standing in a line either a. god back to kindergarden or b. drown yourself in a bucket of snow.
after what seemed like an eternity, I looked at her with a look that was supposed to say "you are rude and disgusting. not only are you a damned moron, but you're proud of it. shut up before I dip you in acid"
she says "oh well, someone doesn't like christmas"
not I can't remember wether it was the fact that she mistook my hatred for her as hatred for christmas, or the fact that she was actually trying to make fun of another customer in a god damn bank line, but whatever the reason I semi-snapped. Someone argued with me that what I did constituted a "snap". bullshit. If I had snapped, I would have strangked her with her tiny tiny lover. it wasn't even a semi-snap really.
"no, I don't hate christmas, I hate annoying people."
needless to say the fat bitch (and I say fat bitch in the nicest way possible. only... not.) didn't really appreciate this.
extra credit bastard points if you can tell me what book my entry title is from