Have you heard? The Boy Scouts saw a need to introduce a gaming merit badge. You know, because gaming is a big part of character building, which is what they are all about. I can imagine them, sitting around the table, scratching their heads, and saying, gorsh, what can we do to encourage boys to be better men? Hmm... Scratch, scratch. Then, ah ha! The light bulb came on. What boys need is more gaming. Because they are lacking that time in front of the TV nowadays. Those young hoodlums are spending way too much time gallavanting outdoors, building fires and learning how to give CPR. We need to bring more balance to their lives. But HOW can we convince them to spend more time on the X Box? You know, when we were kids, you didn't have to convince kids that gaming was important. They did it because it was the RIGHT thing to do, and you didn't have to bribe them. That's because our parents taught us what was most important. Kids just don't get that nowadays. That's it, fellas, we're going to make it a merit badge!
Phew. I'm so glad that the BSA has it's priorities straight. Our youth will be raised up right, and the next generation will have... really twitchy thumbs and no social skills.
Showing posts with label I hate stupid people. Show all posts
Showing posts with label I hate stupid people. Show all posts
Friday, April 30, 2010
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Why I Hate Children
So, for those of you who know me this will come as no shock. I hate children. They giggle and they're loud and sticky and opinionated and they think farts are funny. I'm just saying. But mostly, the reason I hate children can be illustrated by my time in the theatre yesterday.
I went to see Alice in Wonderland, which I'm pretty sure was super good. From the parts that I heard, that is, over the incessant giggling coming from behind me. Over nothing. There was nothing funny going on. At least not on the screen. Maybe I was missing some neat trick involving Twizzlers and root beer or something. Because, you see, there were about 20 ten-year-olds in the row behind me. About ten minutes into the movie, they got not only The Eye, but I leaned over my seat and gave them the "Girls, you need to quiet down" to go with it. Oh, they were scared. When you are ten and adults yell at you the need to be rebellious fades a little bit. Unfortunately a few rows behind them were 3 twelve-year-olds who found themselves not only hilarious, but beyond the reach of adults' wrath. They are lucky I didn't feel like getting up. Because seriously, there was no whispering going on. I was hearing things like "where are they going?" in their six foot voices. You know, as opposed to their six inch voices. They seriously were closer to death than they possibly ever had been before. My death stares didn't last as long on them. It was dark.
I have realized something the last few years. My mom was mean. And there should really be more mean parents out there. Because she would not let me go to movies, or even the mall, with my friends alone when I was ten. Because I would have annoyed the crap out of all the adults out there, since my obnoxious sensor was turned off, as all children's are in those types of situations. Parents are so intent on being the cool parent, and the parent who is "fair," and the parent who is loved, that they forget they are training their little angels to behave like human beings. And that's why we are starting to see adults that don't know how to behave in the theatre either. Because we need more mean parents. I exhort you, parents: make your children cry more. Because I hate children. And if you leave them at the theatre unattended like that again, I make no promises they won't return to you with death stare marks seared into their foreheads, among other things.
I went to see Alice in Wonderland, which I'm pretty sure was super good. From the parts that I heard, that is, over the incessant giggling coming from behind me. Over nothing. There was nothing funny going on. At least not on the screen. Maybe I was missing some neat trick involving Twizzlers and root beer or something. Because, you see, there were about 20 ten-year-olds in the row behind me. About ten minutes into the movie, they got not only The Eye, but I leaned over my seat and gave them the "Girls, you need to quiet down" to go with it. Oh, they were scared. When you are ten and adults yell at you the need to be rebellious fades a little bit. Unfortunately a few rows behind them were 3 twelve-year-olds who found themselves not only hilarious, but beyond the reach of adults' wrath. They are lucky I didn't feel like getting up. Because seriously, there was no whispering going on. I was hearing things like "where are they going?" in their six foot voices. You know, as opposed to their six inch voices. They seriously were closer to death than they possibly ever had been before. My death stares didn't last as long on them. It was dark.
I have realized something the last few years. My mom was mean. And there should really be more mean parents out there. Because she would not let me go to movies, or even the mall, with my friends alone when I was ten. Because I would have annoyed the crap out of all the adults out there, since my obnoxious sensor was turned off, as all children's are in those types of situations. Parents are so intent on being the cool parent, and the parent who is "fair," and the parent who is loved, that they forget they are training their little angels to behave like human beings. And that's why we are starting to see adults that don't know how to behave in the theatre either. Because we need more mean parents. I exhort you, parents: make your children cry more. Because I hate children. And if you leave them at the theatre unattended like that again, I make no promises they won't return to you with death stare marks seared into their foreheads, among other things.
Monday, February 22, 2010
I Done Got Me a Car (and a Diet)
So I'm sure you noticed this on your own calendar, but Saturday was Daddy/Daughter bonding day. For my special daddy/daughter event, we went car shopping. Because the stupid-head collission repair center totalled my car. I ended up getting a car which I am quite pleased with, for a payment that might allow me to still purchase groceries every other month. But that wasn't the fun part.
At the first place we pulled into, we parked the car and walked up to the little building (picture seedy looking used car lot), and this youngish guy wandered out and said something disinterested like "so I guess you've done some research and you probably know what you want?" I believe my father was holding piece of paper in his hands. So, you know, he was deducing and all. Then we told him the car we wanted to look at, and he was like, oh, that's not here. That's on our other lot. "But it was listed online as being at this address," my father pointed out. *Blank stare*. Oooooookay. Well, um, thanks.
At the second place we looked (the other lot--also seedy), we parked and walked towards the little building. A young man and woman in jeans and t-shirts, enjoying a smoke, stood there. As we approached, they were like, "hey." After a moment, they extinguished their cigarettes. At some point they asked us if we were looking for a car. And then informed us the one we were looking for was on another lot. And showed us the crappiest used car, that wreeked of cigarette smoke (blank stare from the woman when I pointed this out..."I haven't been in that one.") and I'm pretty sure the holes in the upholstery were from cigarette burns.
At the third place we looked at (an actual dealership), there were five or six salesmen just standing around when we got there. They all kind of looked at each other, and quite possibly did rock paper scissors, and then one came our way. The one with the cowboy heels with clacky heels. Seriously? Cliche much? He was all humble, gorsh, let's see what we might have on this here lot. And then he wandered around like he'd never seen the cars before. And then he looked for a car that I'm pretty sure didn't actually ever exist while he pointed out other cars far above the mileage and price point I had specified. And then we got in a car and drove down the street to the other lots they owned. We got out, looked around, he scratched his head some more, and then we went back to the first lot. And he scratched his head some more. And he showed me a car that was out of my price range, too high in mileage, and crappy. And THEN (and I swear he was trying to create the appearance of working really hard for us to produce this magical car by going through all the aforementioned motions), he showed me a cheaply made car, with no bells and whistles, that was about 4,000 abovie my price point, and had 97,000 miles on it. Yeah, I did not feel saved. I think that's what he was going for. He ran inside to "ask what price he could knock it down to," while my dad half-heartedly looked at the car and discussed leaving. He emerged to introduce his associate, who was taking over because he "had a phone call." Associate proceeded to inform us that he was from Brooklyn, where they talk straight. And then he babbled about the pro's of the car, including the fact that there were screws you could loosen all by yourself to change the headlights. They shore do have some straight talk in Brooklyn.
Once we escaped there we went to a whole other county and found an unslimey salesperson who looked like they had not had their will to live sucked out of them, and we got me a car. And that, my friends, is how I plan to lose weight.
At the first place we pulled into, we parked the car and walked up to the little building (picture seedy looking used car lot), and this youngish guy wandered out and said something disinterested like "so I guess you've done some research and you probably know what you want?" I believe my father was holding piece of paper in his hands. So, you know, he was deducing and all. Then we told him the car we wanted to look at, and he was like, oh, that's not here. That's on our other lot. "But it was listed online as being at this address," my father pointed out. *Blank stare*. Oooooookay. Well, um, thanks.
At the second place we looked (the other lot--also seedy), we parked and walked towards the little building. A young man and woman in jeans and t-shirts, enjoying a smoke, stood there. As we approached, they were like, "hey." After a moment, they extinguished their cigarettes. At some point they asked us if we were looking for a car. And then informed us the one we were looking for was on another lot. And showed us the crappiest used car, that wreeked of cigarette smoke (blank stare from the woman when I pointed this out..."I haven't been in that one.") and I'm pretty sure the holes in the upholstery were from cigarette burns.
At the third place we looked at (an actual dealership), there were five or six salesmen just standing around when we got there. They all kind of looked at each other, and quite possibly did rock paper scissors, and then one came our way. The one with the cowboy heels with clacky heels. Seriously? Cliche much? He was all humble, gorsh, let's see what we might have on this here lot. And then he wandered around like he'd never seen the cars before. And then he looked for a car that I'm pretty sure didn't actually ever exist while he pointed out other cars far above the mileage and price point I had specified. And then we got in a car and drove down the street to the other lots they owned. We got out, looked around, he scratched his head some more, and then we went back to the first lot. And he scratched his head some more. And he showed me a car that was out of my price range, too high in mileage, and crappy. And THEN (and I swear he was trying to create the appearance of working really hard for us to produce this magical car by going through all the aforementioned motions), he showed me a cheaply made car, with no bells and whistles, that was about 4,000 abovie my price point, and had 97,000 miles on it. Yeah, I did not feel saved. I think that's what he was going for. He ran inside to "ask what price he could knock it down to," while my dad half-heartedly looked at the car and discussed leaving. He emerged to introduce his associate, who was taking over because he "had a phone call." Associate proceeded to inform us that he was from Brooklyn, where they talk straight. And then he babbled about the pro's of the car, including the fact that there were screws you could loosen all by yourself to change the headlights. They shore do have some straight talk in Brooklyn.
Once we escaped there we went to a whole other county and found an unslimey salesperson who looked like they had not had their will to live sucked out of them, and we got me a car. And that, my friends, is how I plan to lose weight.
Monday, September 14, 2009
The Stereotypes About Seattle and Why They Are Dumb.
There seems to be this toxic attitude permeating the minds of Seattle Drivers. I hear people say, with a little smile like they are talking about how cute their toddler is who cut their own hair, that Seattle has some of the worst rubber-neckers in the nation. Really? Really Seattle? THIS is what we want to be known for?
The rain thing, I get. Although seriously, implanted Seattlites, ya knew it was like this when you moved here. Also you exaggerate. Alabama gets more rain. Also Miami. And you never say to people you meet from Miami, "gosh, how can you stand living there! I would be so depressed!" And YET, Miami is in the top 10 and Seattle is not in the top 24. Olympia is the first city in the Northwest to even make the list. So, seriously, ask me about something else. Ask me about the coffee shops, which really are everywhere. Ask me about the fact that we have the Sound and rivers and lakes and mountains and hills and really close to us at all times here. Whine to me about the weather, and, I'm just warning you right now, you may find that umbrella you're holding jammed up your nose. I would use my own umbrella but I"m not sure where it is right now.
Any other stereotypes I can express my rage at/debunk?
The rain thing, I get. Although seriously, implanted Seattlites, ya knew it was like this when you moved here. Also you exaggerate. Alabama gets more rain. Also Miami. And you never say to people you meet from Miami, "gosh, how can you stand living there! I would be so depressed!" And YET, Miami is in the top 10 and Seattle is not in the top 24. Olympia is the first city in the Northwest to even make the list. So, seriously, ask me about something else. Ask me about the coffee shops, which really are everywhere. Ask me about the fact that we have the Sound and rivers and lakes and mountains and hills and really close to us at all times here. Whine to me about the weather, and, I'm just warning you right now, you may find that umbrella you're holding jammed up your nose. I would use my own umbrella but I"m not sure where it is right now.
Any other stereotypes I can express my rage at/debunk?
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