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Archive for the ‘People’ Category

So, like, wow, you have a myspace.

It just warms my heart to have you send me links to it, where I can see photos of you in various poses, pouting and finally being the fabulous international model you always hoped you would be.

And the blurb about you! The ingenuity! You say all these things that are witty and insightful, notions about life and pop culture, interspersed with things you love that make you somehow more unique and interesting than the 2 million plus other fools on the web right now. It is as though you are pointing that telescope right back at yourself, not taking yourself too seriously, when really you are just trying desperately to be cool so that you can get 15 more people to be your “friend” and litter your page with their equally inane comments on life and how hot your hair is right now.

Don’t forget to include a few well-chosen videos of yourself doing things and laughing, so that people will know how much fun you are to have around. And most importantly, have a music player that gives the website visitor no choice, but blasts out a song at high volume. It is akin to aural rape. It is downright rude.

After all your efforts to make yourself appealing, individual and hipster on your little slice of the interweb, you just come across as self-obsessed, self-absorbed, over-rated, desperately unfunny, shallow and – terribly sorry to say this – average.

Enjoy your mediocrity!

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Dear Stupid Cashier at the Clothing Store,

I know you don’t remember me, seeing as it’s been 6 months since the last time I entered your store, can you blame me?! Last time I was there you tried to make small talk (which I hate enough as it is) and I had to, very politely, explain that I was going to be late for work if you continued with your sob story about how you are just working here temporarily to make some extra cash and they don’t pay you enough, on top of that they keep moving you from location to location and blah, blah, blah…

You must have mistakenly thought that I was inviting you to continue our (and by “our” I mean “your”) small talk, just on a different subject. WRONG! Now, when you asked me where I worked I didn’t know what hell was going to be unleashed when I answered, if I had known I would have said something like “the morgue” just to keep you silent. “I am a salesperson at the local dealership”, I told you. Then it began. I could see it as soon as the words left my mouth, your eyes got real big and the “OOOOOOOHH” that formed on your lips indicated that I must’ve sparked a memory that I SO wish I could’ve left hidden away in the very dark corners for your teeny weeny brain.

You start rattling off some random question about how much it would cost me to have an extra key made for your 2005 Toyota Rav4 because you let your best friend borrow your car and his 4 year old son swallowed the key. My smile (and I say smile, but really I mean evil death stare with a grin that could kill) must have interrupted your story. I smile, not because I think you’re cute, nice, funny, smart and definitely not because I am enjoying our conversation (or your company for that matter). I smile because right now I am imagining myself reaching my arm out as far as possible and bitch-slapping you across the damn face.

I WANT to tell you to go kill yourself and how much I despise “your kind” but instead I contain myself, give you the number to call and demand that you ask for yourself. This must’ve made you very sad because you finally decided to shut the hell up, give me my merchandise, and let me go on along my merry way. You obviously missed the part where I said I was a SALESPERSON not a CUSTOMER SERVICE GRUNT RESPONSIBLE FOR MEMORIZING EVERY PRICE FOR EVERY MINISCULE ITEM IN THE ENTIRE DEALERSHIP just in case I run into some curious bimbo that’s too lazy to call and find out themselves. Give me a break lady.

Note to self: next time someone asks where you work, lie, just down right lie.

Very sincerely,

The rude annoying customer that hates your guts

P.S. Thanks for making me late to work, by the way.

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