Tool Selection

Could be someone I know, someone I don't know, fictional characters, dead people. I don't care, I'm an equal opportunity complainer when it comes to complete dickwads.

Wherever there's a Complete Tool, I'll follow closely behind with my anonymous bitching. 'Cuz that'll show 'em.

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Saturday, February 28, 2009

Amy Beth Dallamura

Hey there, Attention Whore. You've had to be rescued by emergency services there in Wales 50 times. I really don't know who's the bigger tool here: you or the assholes who keep saving your sorry ass.

You've cost the emergency services there almost a million pounds. It's a good thing they couldn't use that money for saving people that actually want to live. Your rescuers don't want to get paid either. They save you for the sheer joy of making sure you're a part of humanity.
If you're really serious about this suicide thing, there are other ways ya know. Oh, apparently you've found one. If you can't kill yourself by jumping off a cliff into the sea, you can embarrass yourself to death. If one doesn't work, the other sure might. Loser.
Thursday, February 26, 2009

Crazy Tazer Lady

"Sorry, we are not a daycare. Please control your children." This is the sign posted on a door in Colorado Springs, CO. It seems like a reasonable request to me.

Apparently not to this woman (who remained nameless). She was so outraged by the sign that she threw merchandise at the stores owner and his mother. On a positive note, he tazed her.

So she's getting The Toolie today. First of all, what in the hell is wrong with that sign? Secondly, how is throwing stuff supposed to teach them a lesson?

Bwahahahaha, you just got tazed bro.
Monday, February 23, 2009

Janitor Dude

Whatever the heck is the PC term for you folk nowadays, you suck. Today you came to my office to replace perfectly good bulbs with only very slightly different bulbs. You said that it would save us some money. Whoop-de-doo. It's not like I'll see this in the form of any kind of pay raise.

I asked you to take a look in one of the vents. Whenever it kicks on in the afternoons, there's always some kinda rotting vermin smell. You said that it would be no problem. You were "on it". Whatever that means.

I'll tell ya what it means: Fuck you, crazy lady. If there's a rotting animal carcass in your ceiling then it sucks to be you.
Well that's just great. I can understand why you're not in a hurry to go looking for the ghost of Stuart Little, but ... well, it's your damn job. Yeah, it sucks the big one, but you just need to get your big boy panties on and get that rat. Or mouse. Or bird. Or whatever the hell it is you tool.
Saturday, February 21, 2009

Drunk Man

Maybe the rock landscape in front of a public service building wasn't the smartest place to pass out. I don't know what the hell your story was, but you were so dead-to-the-world that I actually called 911 on you because I thought there was a very good chance you were actually dead.

When I went out to rouse you and tell you to go sleep it off somewhere else, you did not even so much as flinch. I was yelling right at you.

When the fire department showed up, you didn't respond to their yells either. You had to take a fireman (who was a woman) boot to the chest before you would stir. They checked you out and determined you didn't need an ambulance, so you sat there for a minute to clear your head. That was cool.
What wasn't cool was when you decided that you needed to come inside the building and strip, then sit in our customer's seating area in order to clear your head. This is when the cops show up. They told you that you needed to take a hike. I'm just annoyed that you needed to be told this. It's not like the name of our business is Drunken Hangout Heaven. Go sleep it off.
Friday, February 20, 2009

Game Wrecker

Sometimes we like to do fun things at work. Sometimes we're cool enough to even involve our customers. "Guess The Gumballs" is not as fun as, say, the dollar grab booth thing, but it's still better than nothing.

Guess The Gumballs is a pretty simple concept. There are X number of gumballs in the jar. Come closest to X number and win the jar.

This is really hard to do when you reach inside the jar and grab a handful of gumballs. Now you have changed the number. Now you have also put your God-Knows-Where-They've-Been hands in a jar full of gum that we were hoping to give away. Well, now we can't. Now the entire jar has to get tossed because you've probably been picking your ass. Nobody likes ass-flavored gum. Tool.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009

Mystery Message Man

Hi, this is Jim, I was calling to talk to Mary, but I got your line instead. That's okay, maybe you can help me. I was washing my car yesterday and.... *snorefest for about 3 minutes* Anyway, I hope you can help. Give me a call when you get a moment. Thanks, goodbye.

Anything blaringly obvious missing? Like, maybe a phone number? I would love to call you back, because I totally have a moment. Right this second anyway. I could look up your number, but I know exactly 39,047 Jims. Which one are you again? It's not like your name is The Hulk, dude.

You know, the only thing that pisses me off about this is that I know you're going to complain to my manager that I didn't call you back. That's what tools do Jim.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009

Waiting Room Family Reunion

Quite a few nameless people are making the list today. I had an appointment to see the doctor today and ran across these guys: The Waiting Room Family Reunion.

Apparently when other people go in for their exams, they need to bring their spouse, 2-3 children, mom, dad, best friend, cousin, neighbor, 3rd grade teacher, some random guy from a bus stop (you'll give him a ride, he just needs to fill a seat for a while), a member of Congress, 2 Masons, a billygoat herder, and your mom's best friend's cousin's sister-in-law.

I'd like to do 2 things in a waiting room: 1) tune out. This is really hard to do when people who have no business being there are loudly discussing the merits of their particular auto mechanic vs. "the big guy" or "the dealer". Uh, no one cares. I doubt you even do asshole. 2) I like to sit. Call me crazy, but when I'm waiting for an hour, I like for that hour to be spent chillin' on my ass with a book. Apparently I'm just being selfish.
Monday, February 16, 2009

Jillian McCarney

Thank goodness this time I was able to get some actual footage of Ms. McCarney for you, lucky readers.
So when you get pulled over by the cops, do you A) meekly accept whatever fate befalls you; B) cry like a bitch and whine about every tragedy that has inflicted you; C) hit one of the cops, then threaten them and tell them that the charges will be dropped because your father is some college football coach that no one outside the state of Iowa has ever heard of? If you picked C, then you are Jillian McCarney.
What does your crybaby tantrum actually get you? The 'Tool Of The Day' award. I'm sure it'll look nice in your father's trophy case.
Source KCCI8 Des Moines, IA
Sunday, February 15, 2009

Parking Pricks

I needed to run to the store today. I dread going, as it is a veritable buffet of assholery. I didn't even make it into the store for today's experience to be ruined by some tool.

I'm trying to get my kids out of the Awesomemobile (a Chevy Malibu - envy me) and this huge land yacht comes screaming into the parking space next to me. Asshole nearly took off my door. The parking lot was completely empty, man. Why the hell did you have to pull in right next to me?

So a couple of tools get out and just glare. I'm sorry. Did we park in your spot? I don't remember it saying "Crazy Asshole" when we pulled in. Tool. And Mrs. Tool. (Maybe Momma Tool, she was kinda haggard...)

Ravone C. Jones

Since I couldn't find a picture, I had to guess what he looked like. This is the best I could do.

Congratulations Ravone, you get to be the first tool in a box that's sure to get crowded awful quickly. Times are tough right now and you, unlike many that would kill to be in your position, have a job. Is that good enough? No. You strive for the illustrious status of "collecting unemployment". Your steady job as the morning cleaner of the Qboda was apparently too much for you to handle, or you were too cool, or you were a Complete Tool.

Sure, doing absolutely nothing and getting paid for it is the American Dream (for a tool), but did you have to waste all that food when you trashed the place. Brownies and cookies, dude. Do you know how long it's been since I've had a brownie or a cookie?

Where are you now? Now you're being charged with disorderly conduct and there's a warrant for your arrest because you thought you were too cool to show up for court. Good job, Ravone, you Tool.

Source: The Capital Times, Madison, WI
Saturday, February 14, 2009

No one is safe

Could be someone I know, someone I don't know, fictional characters, dead people. I don't care, I'm an equal opportunity complainer when it comes to complete dickwads.

Wherever there's a Complete Tool, I'll follow closely behind with my anonymous bitching. 'Cuz that'll show 'em.