Friday evening ramblings
Things I hate:
Smokers standing next to a 'No Smoking' sign while toking away. Duh.
Boys and men with their pants half way down their thighs
...no belt...holding them up with one hand...or constantly tugging them up...or worse yet with the belt around their thighs, too. I have no desire to see your junk or your trunk. Pull them up and keep them there before I bring my staple gun and do a number on you.
Girls and women walking around in broad daylight in pajama pants and camisoles
...or fluffy house slippers. It's not a sleepover. Put some clothes on. And while you're at it, hide the girls. I have a pair of my own, I don't need to see yours. And for the record, mine are better.
Cars rolling by blasting rap with thumpers at full throttle. I don't want to have to listen to your music any more than you want to hear mine. (There goes one now...)
Cars that sit and burn rubber (like that's suppose to impress me?) I'm fifty-five for pity's sake. I see you. You're an idiot.
People shooting off fireworks at 2am when I have to work that morning and get up at 5:30. I want to record it and then play it at full blast under their windows when they've had their lights out for about an hour. Revenge is sweet.
People throwing their dinner or car trash out into the middle of the street. Have you never heard of a trash can? Geez.
Dirty diapers dumped in a parking lot where I've just parked. (I repeat, trash can.)
Seeing babies, in a diaper, filthy, riding in a cart at the store. Soap is cheap. Clean that baby up.
While you're at it, take a bath yourself.
Okay, I've vented some of it. Thank you for listening. We return you to your regular programming.
Smokers standing next to a 'No Smoking' sign while toking away. Duh.
Boys and men with their pants half way down their thighs
...no belt...holding them up with one hand...or constantly tugging them up...or worse yet with the belt around their thighs, too. I have no desire to see your junk or your trunk. Pull them up and keep them there before I bring my staple gun and do a number on you.
Girls and women walking around in broad daylight in pajama pants and camisoles
...or fluffy house slippers. It's not a sleepover. Put some clothes on. And while you're at it, hide the girls. I have a pair of my own, I don't need to see yours. And for the record, mine are better.
Cars rolling by blasting rap with thumpers at full throttle. I don't want to have to listen to your music any more than you want to hear mine. (There goes one now...)
Cars that sit and burn rubber (like that's suppose to impress me?) I'm fifty-five for pity's sake. I see you. You're an idiot.
People shooting off fireworks at 2am when I have to work that morning and get up at 5:30. I want to record it and then play it at full blast under their windows when they've had their lights out for about an hour. Revenge is sweet.
People throwing their dinner or car trash out into the middle of the street. Have you never heard of a trash can? Geez.
Dirty diapers dumped in a parking lot where I've just parked. (I repeat, trash can.)
Seeing babies, in a diaper, filthy, riding in a cart at the store. Soap is cheap. Clean that baby up.
While you're at it, take a bath yourself.
Okay, I've vented some of it. Thank you for listening. We return you to your regular programming.
posted by Dawn | 7:40 PM
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