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I have this thing on Twitter that I call Rant of the Day. It’s just a blurb about who or what is pissing me off at the moment.  Unluckily Twitter is limited to such a small blurb that I really don’t get to properly vent on some subjects, so I thought I would put them on the blog where I could go into more detail about my idiot encounters. Lucky you.

1. People who tailgait me in the snow: Here’s a clue asshole, there is snow on the road, not a dusting, but full fledged mounds of slush and ice, thus I will be driving the speed limit like a normal person with two brain cells to rub together. Actually, I will probably even be exceeding the posted limit, just not to the extent that I would in normal weather conditions. And, by the way, when you run me down in your SUV that doesn’t get any better traction than my Mustang, while talking on your phone or texting your mistress, the only thing that will make me feel better will be a brand new Porsche to replace my devasted Mustang. It may even make me not want to sue you. Maybe.

2. Professional people who can’t return an email:  Here is how it works. I send you an email (because you state that you are able to address emails so much faster and easier that a phone call), then you read it and type a reply and hit send.  It’s really simple. I understand that the information that I ask for may not be immediately available and I am ok with that. Just reply, say the next day, and let me know that you did indeed receive my message and that you are working on it. When you ignore my email that requires a response I become concerned. Did it get to its intended destination? Is it caught up in a spam filter like a dolphin in a tuna net? Have you lost the ability to lie and pretend to give a shit about your job and its duties? Are you laying undiscovered, dead in your office being devoured by wolves? Continue to ignore me and I will have to pick up the phone and call. By then I may have lost my ability to give a shit about you and your job and I will just ask for your boss.

3 Procreation is NOT a talent:  I really don’t care for reality TV in most forms. I will watch Hoarders just because it’s makes me feel so much better about my sometimes lax housekeeping skills, but otherwise reality shows are kind of annoying. The shows I despise the most right now (besides The Bachelor) are any that have families with a million children. When did getting fertility treatments become a marketable talent? Why are foolish, selfish people who probably shouldn’t have been allowed to have one child, let alone a dozen or more, getting TV shows? Is it like me watching Hoarders, people feel so much better about their parenting skills and prudent use of birth control watching these fame seeking morons?  A special message to the reality family who just topped 19 with a premature baby that weighed less than 2lbs at birth; you need to stop, your body is telling you that you are done. For once in your lives, think about your children and not yourselves. Now I am going to watch Hoarders clean a lady’s house that has 4 tons of garbage and 3 dead cats in her living room. I feel really good about myself now. My cat is alive and my living room has tops, only a ½ ton of garbage.

4. People who can’t hold a door: This was more of a holiday season rant, but it still holds true any time of year. Why does it not occur to some people to hold the door for people coming right behind them? You see me coming right behind you (only because you were walking so fucking slow and I couldn’t get around you, where I would have held the door for you) loaded down with several bags and you just push through that door and then just let it slam behind you, right in my face. WTF? I have seen people do this to women with strollers, people in wheelchairs, and elderly people that look so frail that a gust of wind would fracture a hip. And none of these offenders have been young people either, actually I see more teenagers with better manners than many middle aged adults. Do we forget our manners as we grow older? Do some people get such a feeling of self importance that no one else matters outside of their little bubble? Always remember that manners matter. Just keep in mind that the young cashier at the local deli that you bitched out for having the nerve to interrupt you to take your order, at the counter with a line forming behind you, while you are on a very important cell call, may be the same person that, years later, will smile in recognition across the table as she is introduced as the head counsel for the federal government in that nasty little case of securities fraud against you.

Thus concludes my lunatic ravings for today.

You can follow me on Twitter at http://twitter.com/lwcollection where I rant and promote my Vintage Jewelry shop on Etsy.com. LisaWitmerCollection.etsy.com

A Cricket Ate My Baby!

Last week I made an off-hand remark that I had some rather unruly spiders in my basement. Well, they must have gotten wind of my slanderous talk and decided that I needed to be put in my place. So, as I was diligently tidying up the rec room side of the basement (When you have to be a skilled mountain climber to get to a seat, that means things may be piling up just a bit) and I was just whipping out the hose attachment of the vacuum to get under my husband’s computer desk without mangling any of the 700 cords plugged into about 50 power strips, when I was set upon by a most fearsome creature. The size of a small poodle and, like a ninja warrior, clad in all black ; it was the biggest damn cricket I have ever seen. I gave a shriek and pointed my weapon, but alas, a clog had thwarted my efforts to banish the hideous intruder without further adieu.  I swear to god, to mock my impotence, it gave me the finger . In the meantime, my husband yells down “What’s wrong?” and can you imagine what his pithy reply to my dilemma was? You say “Well surely he ran down and send it back to hell with a well placed, husk crunching shoe?”  Oh goodness no, instead he yells down “Is it Jiminy Cricket?” Seriously? Yes, it’s Jiminy Cricket and he decided, in a steroid fueled rage, to walk out on those low paying bastards at Disney, trade his umbrella for a crowbar and work as a mercenary for the laundry room spiders.  It’s more than obvious that I am on my own at this point. The cricket knows I am at a disadvantage with a clogged vacuum hose and bare feet, so he advances on me with an evil gleam in his eye. But the overconfident insect has made a fatal error by stepping out from the protective snarl of precious wires and cords.  In an instant, I flip the vacuum back on and mercilessly run him over until his mangled body parts finally disappear from my carpet, leaving no trace of the heinous encounter.  When I am finished, I carefully replace the hose, wrap the cord and wheel the machine into the laundry room. That’s right spiders, do you smell it? Um, no not that smell, that’s dog hair. Uh, not that one either, that’s Cheetos and dead leaves. Yes, that one!  That’s right, the disturbing smell of death. It’s going to take more than a dingo sized cricket to keep me from occasionally doing a half-assed cleaning. Oh and by the way, if you are looking for the centipede you sent yesterday, you may want to check out the bottom of my flip-flop. *insert evil laugh here*

Get on the boat, idiot!

 

From time to time on this blog, I will have a variety of lists. Lists of things that I love, lists of things that I want, lists of people I want to smite, and so on. This list is the list of people I would like to load up on a boat and ship off to an isolated island where no TV cameras or paparazzi would ever be able to find them. And the trip is one way only; there is no getting off this island, no matter how many votes you get.

 

  1. Paris Hilton: Her dog has jewelry that is worth more than all of my worldly possessions combined and what has her contribution to humanity been? A few beaver shots and venereal disease. What else can I say?  You are useless, Paris. Your pallet of luggage exceeds the weight limitations and will be pushed into the sea after we get underway. Get on the boat.
  2. Jon & Kate: Hey idiots, the ‘plus eight’ part was referring to your children, not the zeros in your paycheck. I can’t wait for the day those kids get old enough to realize that you can divorce your parents. They are going to take the money and run, leaving mom and dad homeless and broke, all while TV cameras broadcast it to the world. It will be awesome. Kate, with your ‘do that looks like a porcupine’s ass, and Jon, you Ed Hardy wearing douche, you know what the right thing to do is. We are overbooked, so you will have to share a cabin in the crew quarters. Get on the boat.
  3. All Family Values Spouting Politicians that are Banging Hookers: Last time I checked, shagging high priced call girls, Argentinean trollops, or really any slut that is not your wife, is not behavior that any family I knows values. While your wives are pounding the pavement campaigning for you, planning extravagant parties to raise money for you, keeping up appearances for you and raising your brood of children for you, you are pounding Candy Applebottom down at the Four Seasons. I see you trying to skulk out of the room John Edwards, get back here! You are at the top of the passenger list since you are the biggest disappointment of them all. Your bags are packed hypocrites. Get on the boat.
  4. The Cast of the Hills: This is really a two birds with one stone situation here. First, I despise people who think that they are so extraordinary because they are on television. If you have no discernable talent or skill, and have an I.Q. lower than a gerbil on crack, then you can be on The Hills. The show is a moron parade inside an idiot convention. Second, they are the sick twist that I am throwing in as a bonus for all of my guests. It will be all fun and games for everyone at first, what with Spencer pimping Heidi out to the geezers of Capitol Hill, but after a couple of weeks of the vacuous whining that there is no Starbucks on the island(they are too dumb to realize that there is no food at all actually)  and petty fighting about who slept with Brody Jenner (everyone, including a couple of the Senators) and a lack of penicillin,  things will turn ugly and before you know it, it will all implode and all that will be left of the island population is a slightly sticky ooze, a sparkly headband and some silicone implants. Hope the next group (and I know this will be a popular destination and I am already taking reservations) remembers to pack their bio-hazard suits. Cast of the Hills, you guys get the group rate. Get on the boat.

 What is your favorite term of endearment for the truly socially impaired who come in and out of your life on a daily basis? When the guy, yakking on his cell phone so loud it would drown out a jet engine, cuts in front of you at Starbucks, do you favor a tried and true classic like idiot, jackass or stupid? Maybe you prefer to express your feelings with a little more intensity and scream out the blue collar staples of asshole or shithead, perhaps while giving that old favorite of mine, the single finger salute. The worldlier among us may venture to import a few choice tags from our kin across the pond and mutter wanker, prat, git or, one I have borrowed many times courtesy of Bridget Jones’ Diary, fuckwit. Some terms, like douche bag, have roared back on the scene but with timely updates. Douche minus the Bag gets the point across and is faster to text or tweet and, I must admit, I have myself been using the term quite frequently of late (i.e. Kanye West is a douche, Jon & Kate minus eight = publicity seeking douche times two, Dick Cheney is Satan’s backdoor douche, you get the picture.) Then there are those custom words that everyone one has that they made up one day and, like caffeine and vodka, just can’t be without them. A couple of examples that have been volunteered for this publication are Shit Box and Pecker Gnats. I encourage all of my readers to expand their vocabularies, especially their lexicon of vulgarities. But you say “Witty Lisa, you silly cow, how do I have time to brood about such things, what with jobs and children and my standing appointment at the local pub?” Put your worries aside, for do you think I would put such a daunting task before you without a little help? Fuck no I wouldn’t. (See how effortlessly I slipped that F bomb in there. With a little practice, that can be you!)

 The Swear Square- Instant Insults

Pick a word from Column A and pair it with a word from Column B and you have a snappy idiom for any occasion.

                                                B

Ass                                            Monkey

Piss                                            Hat

Dick                                           Clown

Bitch                                          Dildo

Shit                                             Sniffer

Fuck                                           Licker

Pecker                                       Eater

Crap                                            Lover

Filth                                            Pig

Vomit                                         Blister

Butt                                             Whore

Crack                                           Wipe

Ball                                               Sucker

The possibilities are endless and I can just see you now, flipping the bird at that car that just cut you off and bellowing “pecker wipe!” A proud moment indeed.

Comment with your favorite words of encouragement that you use to gently point out to those addle-brained, dimwits that dare hold you up in traffic or jump in front of you in the express lane with 300 items or more know that they have made a faux pas and society demands that they be made aware of it so as to possibly rid the world of one more crack sniffer.

Author’s Note- I swear my next post will have considerably less profanity, as I wish to keep the tone of this blog sophisticated and intellectually stimulating, much like its writer. And anyone who thinks otherwise is a filth dildo.

Good lord, who was the idiot that approved this blog? Who in their right mind would give me a worldwide stage to air my bitches and moans? Yes, now all can be subjected to my rants about badly behaved children and their oblivious parents, people who get in my way while I am driving (yes, I DO own the road, thank you!) and all of the other idiots, morons, dipshits, fuckwits, stoners, wasters, asswipes, assholes, ass-clowns, ass-hats, geezers, losers, twits, gits, prats, dorks, dweebs, geeks, and  some other lovely people that get in the mix as well. So watch out people, WWW has a blog and is not afraid to use it! *insert evil laugh here*

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