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Saturday, February 28, 2009
Amy Beth Dallamura
1:01 AM | 
Posted by
Awesomeness |
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.
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