Archive for April, 2007

Hates Flossing, highly uncomfortable underwearer

Dear Red Thong,

I’m so sorry… so, so sorry I didn’t shower today, but that’s not what we’re here to talk about. Look… it’s just not… proper what you do down there. You’re so far up my butt that you’re practically coming out my mouth, and nobody wants a thong wagging around when I talk.

I’ve tried and I’ve tried, given and given, and I just can’t do this anymore. Plus, it’s not exactly nice what you’re doing to my tender area, either. I’m starting to crave an Iron Maiden chastity belt for some comfort down there. I know you make my butt look great in my new silk skirt, but my new silk skirt probably doesn’t look as hot when I spend all day fishing you out of my ass.

I don’t care who knows it, but tomorrow I’m all granny panties!

Thanks but no thanks,
Hates Flossing


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Jen F, a most satisfied customer

I got a card with Juniper Bank, Apple’s financing company, about a year ago. Soon thereafter I tried to access it online and couldn’t create an account. I called them to find out why and I was able to learn that my social is wrong. I asked them to fix it, they said ok. They didn’t. I called back – “please fix it,” they didn’t. I wrote – same story.

After many months I was getting pissed and called up again to discuss their incompetence – and the kind man on the phone said:

“Hey, it’s not your social right, so don’t pay the bill.”

I was rather confused and he explained, “If it’s not your social it’s not your credit report so what are they going to do to you if you don’t pay the bill. It’s not going to show on your credit if you don’t pay it, so just stop paying and maybe you’ll get their attention. If it doesn’t, then consider it compensation for your trouble.”

I know that it’s not legally sound advice for me to hand out to you, but I’m thinking that since their employee told me to stop paying my bill – and yes, it was one of those recorded conversations so they can find it – I may have some ground to stand on.

I wish my customer service agents would commit their companies to letting you off the hook for your credit card debt.

Rantasaurus Says: My next credit card will definitely come from Juniper Bank. Whatever SS# number they have for me, I’m just gonna go straight to the “no paying” thing.

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Beer Rant

Josh G, angry and smelly

Last night was one of the best live sporting events I’ve ever been to. My company sent me to a playoff game between the Mavericks and my beloved Golden State Warriors. We pulled out the victory of course, but here is one thing I could have done without.

I’m going crazy, yelling, cheering, having fun with everyone, but not in a drunk obnoxious sort of way. I didn’t have enough cash on me for beer, so I was able to enjoy myself sober. I think I was the only one, but I was just fine with it.

Why, then, did a beer come flying out of nowhere and smack me in the face, then proceed to spill down my shirt and pants?

I am less than excited getting back on BART smelling like a fucking bum’s backwashed 40 leftovers from your stank ass cup, Mr. Beer Hurler.

I’m sitting there thinking about how I’d like to take a hot iron prod to your char-grilled face so that your head cheese resembles a culo death bilonker fondue parade, and I know full well why no one wants to stand within 5 feet of me.

I get in my car at the end of the BART trip and start driving. Lo and behold, the cops have nothing better to do than pull me over. Clearly, the smell of said booze is infiltrating their collective canals and my pants are about to have a chocolate party.

I take a sobriety test because your drunk ass couldn’t hang onto the drink. I know exactly how expensive those beers were, so I have no idea why you spent it on me. I hope you’re sucking suck a jilted nut bust silo while I’m explaining to a 3rd cop why I am covered in beer and reeking of Bud Light.

The Warriors cap saved me, I tell you, but it won’t save you next time you try to throw your beverage.

Rantasaurus Says: Same thing happened to me a few weeks back. The cops pulled me over and I kept trying to tell them… I reek like booze because I’ve been drinking for 27 hours straight.

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Tyrantasaurus, model driver

Here in the Bay Area, Los Altos Hills is ritzy on top of ritzy. Lots of small streets that wind into the hills… and this is where I’m driving, one second away from being late to a tutoring appointment.

An old woman standing by her car waves me down. Naturally, since I’m a good person, I assume she’s having car trouble. I’m ready to hand her my cell phone, throw a few kind words her way, whatever.

I slam on the brakes, put the ol’ Jetta in reverse and roll down my window.

“Yes, ma’am,” I say, “how can I help you?”

Then, instead of letting me be a good person and playing the kind and helpless old lady, she turns into a real twat.

“You were taking that curve a bit fast my dear,” she laughs.

A part of me dies, see, because I thought I was going to be useful to her, but it turns out she just wanted to be a bitch.


“Do you live around here?”


She gives me a nod. You’re not from around here, it says, you’re not made of money like I am.

“I see, well, this isn’t the freeway. There are people walking their dogs here. You need to drive 15 miles an hour on this curve,” she’s hanging her fingers inside my window and nodding to me at this point.


“Now, I’ve been battling the City Council for years to have them put up a sign…”


It went on for several more minutes. At first I hated myself for pulling over and wanting to help. By the end of it, I hated myself for not doing anything and everything horrible to this old whore.

If I could bring myself to be mean to old people, I can envision any one of these happening:

  1. I roll my window up in the middle of her saying something. (Tame)
  2. I roll my window up in the middle of her saying something and then yell “TWAT!” when there’s an inch or so left.
  3. I turn my music all the way up and then sit there, letting her keep talking.
  4. I speed off with her still hanging onto my doorframe. (Yes!)
  5. I say: “Wait, so people have gotten hit here?” And she’ll say: “Well, no, no, nobody’s gotten hit here…” And then I’ll say: “Not yet!” Slam my car into reverse and then just let her have it. Over and over and over and over again. (I like!)

See… I’m not a naturally violent person. I don’t naturally hate old people. But this woman got under my skin. Why do some people think they can just sit down and lecture anyone and everyone in their path? Hail someone down in the middle of the street and lecture them?

I shouldn’t have pulled over. I know. And I’d never really kill someone with my car… But… But…

What I really should have said, though, is: “Don’t you have better things to do with the two weeks you have left to live?”

Rantasaurus Says: Killing old ladies with your car is wrong. That’s why you need your homie Rexie to just eat them for you.

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Following in the stupid but noble tradition of Site That Shall Not Be Named, here is a stupid cat picture to usher in the beginning of the stupid month of May.


If you have any better pictures that are funnier (a lot funnier, for the love of all that is holy!!!), check out our Submitasaurus page and submit them.

Rantasaurus Says: Tyrantasaurus, you’re stepping out of line. I hope you’re not planning on doing this every day, or it’s “bad news bears.” I know where you sleep.

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Kimberly, no-time novelist

Dear Everyone Who’s A Literary Agent,

You know what? My novel is great and I hate you all. I work for literally weeks on this thing and you say it needs work? What’s wrong with you? It’s got great characters, the dialogue absolutely sizzles (told you I’m a writer) and it’s the best story ever. I keep sending it out and you people keep saying no, no, no.

Well you know what, Mr. Literary Agent? I hate you and you’re probably ugly and you have bad eyes and fat little fingers and you sit there, writing rejection e-mails to me and I would just rather pee on your keyboard than ever be represented by you!

Revisions you want? Fine! I’ll fart out some revisions today and then I won’t send them to you. Because I’ll take your suggestions, make my book the next Great American Novel and send it to someone else. Then we’ll see who’s boss. Every time I get a royalty check, I’ll send you an e-mail saying:

“You could be sitting on whatever number of $$$ if you hadn’t rejected me, donkey.”

I’ll see you at Barnes and Noble, bitches, where my books will be front and center and your ass will be broke.

The Next JK Rowling

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Clingly, Gullible Girl

Zeuzen, on the market

Clingy, gullible girl next door seeks attractive, shallow egomanic for
long-term, emotionally abusive relationship. Must be willing to condescend, call me names, and sleep with my best friend, but only while I am at work.

In exchange for all of the excitement of a man of consistent character, I promise to work daily and try really hard to save my money for when it comes time for you to start asking me to pay your bills. I’m the kind of gal who likes to plan ahead.

I am most attracted to the idea of being tied to someone with great emotional depth and fortitude, so if you have a drinking problem, please apply soon. I love the versatility of a man who is as likely to throw a beer at me as he is to drink it, especially if he can do it behind closed doors. I think this is really rewarding to better develop my sense of personal security and self-esteem.

In exchange for your deep-seated love and gratitude, I’d like to assure you
that I am the type of woman who is willing to compromise all of my standards if it translates to an opportunity to develop better self-control. However, my main goal is to support and take responsibility for your moods.

As long as you have the ability to tell me what feelings of yours I am responsible for, we can have a fabulous relationship.

Even though I must concede that you sleeping with our daughter’s schoolteacher isn’t my favorite, no man is perfect. I have reasonable
expectations when it comes to fidelity, but I’m smart enough to realize that men only only sleep with other women to know that they are loved.

In addition, I must also note that I am particularly drawn to men who are confident enough to call me a psycho or freak in public, especially because I know that my own boundary issues are to blame.

I decided to write this online ad today because I really miss being slowly retarded daily by heartfelt promises of love and faith. My last boyfriend stole his parents car, and now he’s sleeping with Brutus in the pokey. Since it’s the second time he stole a car this month, he might be there a long time. You won’t have to worry about him as competition.

I’m really easy to get along with, because I’m the kind of girl who loves everyone. I’m open-minded and flexible about most everything too, which is why exciting men are so drawn to me. I look forward to hearing from you, and should you decide I might not be your type, Happy Searching!

Rantasaurus Says: If anybody is interested in contacting Clingly, gullible girl: get in line. Rexie first!

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