33. When Waitstaff are rude for literally no reason

A couple friends and I got sushi today at a restaurant. We were polite little fucks, didn’t walk in and be rude to anyone or shout obscenities (at first)— nothing. We were totally nice! Whatever! And our waitress was such a BITCH. I’m hoping it was just like, she was new and maybe nervous so she didn’t know how to talk to people but holy god. She didn’t smile once, looked like we were bothering her by being there, talked at us like we were small, annoying children, threw our plates/glasses on the table like we were very lucky to be getting fed.

FUCK OFF. Okay, I have friends who like, talk about how “Yeah I just don’t put as much effort into serving college students because they don’t tip as much.”

Correlation or causation here? Where is the logic? When you are a shitty waiter, I’m going to tip you less. When you go to work miserable and act miserable, you’re going to have a shitty day. Just put on a fucking happy face for me, it’s not like I don’t have a job that I have to do where I go serve assholes all day but I never let them know I think they’re assholes. For one because I’m polite, but for two because if it wasn’t for the customer base I WOULDN’T HAVE A JOB.

I went to my friend’s birthday party at Tony’s, a pizza place in Cedar Falls, a couple weeks ago. It was like, wooh cool whatever. A party of maybe 12. Not totally nuts. Our speech team goes out every weekend in groups of 13-15 and people are nicer than this waiter was.

Basically everything we asked for, even “Can I get a refill when you have the chance?” garnered this response:

 

Dude. Come on. Get me a fucking refill or I really will leave you a shitty tip.

I’m a firm believer in 20% tipping, and I only dock % points if the staff is really mean. Not if they’re slow or awkward or if mistakes happen. Only if they’re douchebags. Which happens on a much higher frequency when I’m with someone my own age as opposed to when I’m with my mother. 

Anyway, he was a big old doody head about things like getting us refills and us asking if they had a certain type of salad dressing, and it was the girl’s BIRTHDAY. And she works at APPLEBEE’S so it isn’t like she didn’t understand. In fact, as a waiter or waitress, you can usually assume most people over the age of 20 have had some kind of customer service job in their life that made them want to tear their fucking hair out but they did it anyway. 

He was a curt fuckhead though. The entire night. For no reason. I ordered a drink and he acted like having to get a drink from the bar was going to break his fucking legs. When I asked if he liked one type of beer more than the other, he scratched his forehead and stared at me. Didn’t even say, “I don’t drink beer.” or “I don’t like either.” or “I don’t know.” Just stared at me like I was fucking moron.

He brings the check as one big check for 12 of us and we’re like, oh sorry, can we get it separately? And I understand that that takes an extra couple of minutes and it’s a pain in the ass but SERIOUSLY, THIS FUCKER THREW THE RECEIPT OVER HIS SHOULDER, SIGHED HEAVILY, THREW HIS PEN, AND SAID “OKAY.” 

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? And then assholes like that have the fucking GALL to blame it on us being college-aged? No, motherfucker, you saw me, you stereotyped me, you created a self-fulfilling prophecy and give me my own fucking check. Dickwad. Never mind the fact that you are already gauranteed a tip because gratuity is included on a group of over 8 people. 

Here’s the deal: you learned the golden rule in kindergarten. Maybe preschool. Maybe your fucking parents instilled it in you. I don’t treat people like shit, you shouldn’t either.

32. When nobody tells you that you’re having a wardrobe malfunction.

A couple weeks ago I was walking to class with my book bag slung over one shoulder. I was wearing black tights and a purple dress. I was in a hurry, so I didn’t stop think about the goddamn physics of the situation.

9:15 on my campus is pretty busy. I passed approximately 100 people on my 30 yard walk.

ONE HUNDRED PEOPLE.

So imagine my face when I look down and see my skirt has ridden up past my book bag, drug by the unforgiving harsh linen fabric of that piece of shit.

(that’s a middle finger.)

COME ON. THIS IS LIKE THAT FABRICATION OF THE KITTY GENOVESE STABBING. If you see someone with something terribly wrong, eg, their ass is hanging out under their skirt that has ridden up to their waist, fucking tell them. It isn’t like this look is suddenly fashionable outside of dance clubs and weird-ass runways.

If your roommate is about to leave the house and obviously hasn’t noticed that her shirt is inside out and/or the back of her shirt shows off her old, slightly rancid tiger striped bra, TELL HER.

Inside-out shirts, whacked-up skirts, tube tops as skirts, tags sticking out, collars all crooked and fucked up, ties improperly died, crazy hair, obnoxious makeup— if someone obviously didn’t intend a fashion choice, help them!

31. When friends never do anything because they have a boy/girlfriend.

I won’t lie and say I never did this. Between the ages of 15 and 21 I was in three serious relationships, one of which we were together for nearly three years. And I have hardly any friends to show for this time in my life.

But then I dated a sociopath, and I will never behave that way towards my friends again.

I have several friends who do this. Some are inherently antisocial people, and I don’t fault them for continuing in that behavior, but I fucking hate when I have friends who want to hang out and chit chat and get drunk every goddamn morning afternoon and night when they’re single, to the point that you question if they have any other friends, but then the second they start having sex with someone regularly they are incapable of even saying ‘hey’ for weeks. And when they do they try to overcompensate by being EXCESSIVELY nice.
You fuckers know who you are.

I illustrated this in case this blog post is too wordy. The character does not change expression because people who do this don’t seem to see anything wrong with it and always have this bland look of “What?” on their face if you ever say anything.

Within the last couple weeks I’ve developed a policy with these types of people. I will be as brief as possible when you remember my existence every couple of weeks, and when you inevitably break up and need someone to cry on, I’ll do to you what my friends did to me in St. Louis– tell you I’m busy, and force you to learn that this isn’t the fucking Sims. You can’t just ignore a person for months and expect to be best friends when you have nothing better to do with your nights. I have less emotionally unstable, dependent people to be around- so go fuck yourself.

30. Small Towns like Frankford, MO

My roommate and I went to St. Louis this week and I mean, that was pretty fun. I enjoyed myself. I saw a lot of people I hadn’t seen in a couple years or more, we ate some good food, I got to catch up with my grandma and cousins and whatever, it was pretty fun.

On the depressing ride back, after going through over an hour of stop and go traffic to get out of St. Louis [because we left right at the beginning of rush hour], we made a goal. We would be getting into Hannibal, Missouri by 7:00pm. We were going to be eating food and getting gas and make super, super good time. We were really pumped about this goal, too. Like, I think we made up a song and a dance number to motivate ourselves.

Only then we were 25 miles outside of Hannibal and the gas light came on.

GODDAMNIT.
but we see a sign for Frankford, Missouri one mile ahead. And they have food. And gas. So we’re like, well fuck Hannibal we’ll just run there instead.

WE PULL OFF OF THE INTERSTATE AND INTO FRANKFORD, POPULATION 300.
There’s one little gas station with two pumps. Stef pulls up to refill and we look around and decided to take pictures because we’re obnoxious rich people [we’re not actually].


We discover after mocking the little gas station that it’s closed after 4pm. What the fuck?
So we drive down the hill to see if there is anywhere else to get gas, but alas. There isn’t. And as for food, are you fucking kidding me? I’m pretty sure all they sold were guns and ammo to go hunt down your fucking dinner.

We see a deranged crazy woman walking in the middle of the road and consider asking her but then she kind of stumbles around and shouts something to an imaginary fucking dog so we high tail our asses out of there.

By now it’s 7:15. We’ve failed. We stop off in the next town 9 miles away. We see another little gas station, cross out fingers, pull up– nope. Closed after 5pm. WHAT THE FUCK. And then we see a Texaco and rejoice, only to pull up to a pump and see:


What?
FUCK YOU, SMALL TOWNS.

Anyway we went another 500 feet and found a functioning Casey’s but for fuck’s sake! I didn’t get into Hannibal until 7:30 thanks to that shit! It could have been the absurdly straight and boring version of “Too Won Foo, Thanks for Everything!” up in Frankford, fuck.

Anonymous asked: Shit i really hate. When girls post things like "Omg I'm so ugly" "I'm the ugly friend" "I know I'm ugly" but then they post pictures of themselves every day in hardly any clothes and a ton of make up and you see they actually aren't ugly, they just want attention. AND even after this people comment it with "OMG what are you talking about, you are so gorgeous." And they are like "Thnx but I don't think so :(" Bitch if you really thought you were ugly you would not be posting these pictures!!

word up.

29. Hard Plastic Packaging

I had about a 6+ day period where my phone was out of commission.
I had to have a phone for work.
Therefore, I had to buy a go phone.

Hey guys I am here to charge you $2 for calling a voicemail

The phone was in one of those hard plastic things.
I first tried to pry it open with my hands.

Hand power?

This did not work.

I was in a car, so I didn’t have many tools available to me.
I tried my teeth, then my hands again, then my teeth again.

THESE CHOMPERS SHOULD SURELY GET THE JOB DONE.

I tried to chisel at the plastic with my freakish nails.

I don’t even know

I tried to will it open. To shout it into submission.

I thought perhaps the pen was mightier than the sword

Nothing worked.

I got home.
I got my scissors. It was like, a mission to murder.

But they weren’t strong enough.

I mean seriously?

I had to get out a knife and fucking SAW AWAY AT THE PLASTIC. It was literally five minutes of sawing before I could open it.

YEAH. BLOOD.

It’s like I was in Harry Fucking Potter trying to destroy the most random-ass horcrux in existence. Really! What the fuck, Samsung?

SERIOUSLY. NOTHING SHOULD BE THAT DIFFICULT TO OPEN. NOBODY WANTS TO STEAL A $10 GO PHONE THAT BADLY. You can lower your defenses.

In fact, a few weeks later my friend had something like a tiny crap baby electronic in the hard plastic packaging, and she asked me to help her open it.
This was the result:

Yeah. Seriously. A hand was cut open.

So fuck hard plastic packaging. Some of us are poor and don’t have bolt cutters to snap open this shit. SERIOUSLY. I FUCKING HATE THAT SHIT.

28. Really Hot Pizza Rolls

One night, my roommate and I were hanging out with some neato kids in our living room. But it was like, 3 in the morning and we hadn’t eaten in a while. So my roommate decides to make a big thing of pizza rolls. Like, full on bake a cookie sheet full of pizza rolls. And we’re all like, “YEAH HELL YEAH!” and she bakes them and she gets them out and is like “heyyyy pizza rolls!” and I’m like YEEEHEHEHES I’M SO HUNGRAAAAY so I totally go for a pizza roll like a complete idiot and blow on it in my hands for a minute before taking a bite.

Now, my roommate (she has a name) (it’s Stef) and I have started calling pizza rolls pizza BURSTS because we, as well as everyone else I’m sure, have experienced on most pizza roll occasions that you take a bite and the meat sorta bursts from the pizza roll and then you stain your shirt and it totally blows. Like, this is usually what I look like after I eat a pizza roll.

Then again, I really just suck at eating.

But anyway, on this particular pizza roll occasion I was wearing a tank top because it was hot and whatever, I do what I want. And I took a bite of the pizza roll, and it busted – of course – and a piece of really hot sausage landed on my chest. Like, popped out and landed. And it burned so I was like FUUUUUUCK and I threw the piece of sausage. About two minutes later, this happened:

WHAAAAT OW

YEAH THAT’S A FUCKING SECOND DEGREE BURN, YUP, THAT IS WHAT YOU ARE SEEING.

It peeled a ton of my skin off and I put a bandaid on it hoping it was like, yeah whatevs fine. The next day it was like a nasty boil, all wet and burnt and gross. It looked like I got a weird hickey bite and people kept asking me, “Is that a hickey?” and two weeks later they were still asking, “Is that a hickey?” and I was like “no no no not a hickey, it’s a pizza roll burn” which actually, I don’t know if that was smart, because a hickey is probably a better mark to have than evidence that you’re a complete fucking failure at eating pizza rolls. Nobody is going to want to make out with a girl who has a half inch wide burn from a piece of hot sausage when they find out that isn’t an innuendo.

Anyway though, yeah, it’s been like over two weeks and I have what looks a birth mark right below my tattoo and it’s kind of misshapen and yeah. I think it’s a hilarious story to tell but also tragic, because I am scarred from a goddamn pizza roll. Fuck.

update: it has been five months, and the mark is still there. so yup, i’m scarred.

27. When People without tattoos talk to people with tattoos as if they don’t know they’re permanent

I totally understand that some of you think tattoos are absurd. Whatever. So you don’t want to get something permanently etched into your skin. Alright, fair enough.

But where the hell do assholes without tattoos get off on criticizing people with tattoos? Like, really?
The worst part is it is almost nine times out of ten a very passive aggressive criticism. Nobody ever just comes right out and says, “I can’t believe you got that tattooed,” but instead they say, “I don’t know, I just can’t see myself still wanting the blah blah on my blah blah in twenty years, you know?” ALWAYS with the “you know”s.

OBVIOUSLY I DO NOT KNOW AS I HAVE SIX TATTOOS.

SO YOU DON’T WANT A TATTOO. FINE. FAIR. But don’t make the idiotic assumption that people with tattoos didn’t stop and think, “This will be on my body forever.”

Thinking so doesn’t mean they wont get a stupid-ass tattoo but THEY UNDERSTAND THE PERMANENCE OF TATTOOING. YOU ARE NOT ENLIGHTENING ANYBODY WITH YOUR “I mean it’s forever“s and “What if it goes out of style like a shirt?!”

Alright first of all enough people have tattoos these days that in ten years, the professional world will have to reconcile somewhat with tattoos. Second of all, most people who get tattoos get them in easily hidden places. Unless you are a tattoo artist or have literally no plans beyond being a badass your whole life, neck and face tattoos are the only tattoo I think are legitimately a bad idea. I have a finch under my collar bone that is easily hidden with most shirts, I have a wrist tattoo that you can’t see under a bracelet, I have a side and a rib tattoo that you can’t see unless MY SHIRT IS OFF, a foot one I can hide with most shoes, and I have a back shoulder tattoo that you can’t see unless I’m in a spaghetti strap. Suffice it to say, I didn’t just go out and think “Oh birds are pretty lemme just slap one anywhere.” Tattooed people understand the consequences of their actions and they act accordingly. Sometimes mistakes are made and whatever but I STILL REALLY, REALLY FEEL that it is condescending and rude to talk to a person with tattoos as if you have some kind of knowledge that they don’t about tattoos.

It’s a life choice, and in a lot of cases I don’t think that people make the choice lightly. Obviously there are some bobbleheaded fucks out there, but I think criticizing the fact that someone thought they would like a drawing enough to have it on their body forever is being willfully ignorant. Just like, lay off, and don’t ask someone with tattoos if they actually think it was a good idea to get it. What a fucking rude asshole.

I’d doodle something for this but my netbook is indisposed and I hate this right handed mouse.

26. Trying to find computer help on the internet

The year is 2011 and we are basically all slaves to our computers/netbooks/laptops/smart phones/DVRs/coffee makers. But I don’t really care about that; while I worry about our dependence on technology that many of us don’t understand, I love Angry Birds and Piggy Drop more, so whatever. I carry on with my reckless, obsessive hold onto these intricately wired possessions and do whatever the fuck I please.

Until one of them breaks.

Then, I lose my shit. Sometimes I cry, sometimes I simply rock back and forth and mutter, “help,” quietly, as if my voice will carry to some ethereal spirit of Ric Burns, who will take patronizing pity upon me and fix my wireless network.

me, contemplating technology.

But I am left to fend for myself. Of course, not all is lost. I whip out my smartphone and my wizard hat and I google solutions.

Well, if you didn’t already know what to do, you’re probably pretty shitty at this tech stuff anyway. So it’s really awesome that when you try to figure out why the fuck the modem wont communicate with the router, you read shit like this:

yeah. the nic. right.

seriously, what? and that’s a TAME one. What the fuck are they saying? Why do I have to google every other word in these forums to figure out what I have to do? I’M ON A FUCKING SMARTPHONE.

WHAT THE FUCK DOES THIS MEAN

Having to google your stupid acronyms every third word is annoying. I feel like I’m deciphering ancient hieroglyphics made by a mouth breathing Egyptian who was tired of King Tut asking, “Wait- wait- okay so how do I make sure I’ve locked the door, though?”

As someone who has her own hobbies and obsessions, I grant you all the difficulty it can be to speak in layman’s terms about something you are knowledgeable on. But if someone was just starting to learn Spanish asked me, “How do you say ‘heart’ in Spanish?” I wouldn’t answer, “En Espanol la palabra es corazon, chica fea.” Insert accents where necessary.

Whatever, point here is, I just really hate when I suck at technology and can’t understand what should be simple directions to fix it. Or at least put a goddamn key on your directions so I can refer to them for your crazy acronyms.