Rant - Mischa

Are you Andrew Bird? No. You’re not. You are anything but a musical virtuoso/genius who can whistle at the same time as playing a violin or a guitar – or a violin like a guitar (Jimi Hendrix missed a trick there). So why the fuck do you think it’s okay to whistle in public? If I wanted to hear someone do that, I’d pay to see Mr Bird live in concert. The last thing I want is to hear your dreadful approximations of a tune you like that doesn’t sound anything like the actual thing. I mean, Jesus Fucking Christ. I mean, remember that fucking tune by Peter, Bjorn and John? The actual thing was bad enough – it’s one of the most boring, bland songs in the history of pop music – but all those fucknuts who started pursing their lips together as a result made it infinitely worse. Because everyone everywhere was doing it. It was the end of days, the death of culture through ubiquity, the transmogrification of an entire generation (and then some) into a parade of sheep, all whistling gleefully while they’re willingly leading themselves to the slaughter. Get some fucking culture, you fucking clueless cunts. Maybe that’s too harsh, too angry, an unjustified outpouring of bile for something that really doesn’t warrant it. But then, when I’m sitting on a bus or in a waiting room or in a pub with some friends and some idiot starts whistling – usually badly – it pisses me off. Personal space isn’t just physical, you know. You might as well be sitting there farting, waving the particles of your flatulence towards me with your hand, because that’s just as repugnant and direct an assault on my senses. I don’t need to hear you whistle. I don’t want to hear you whistle. Neither does anyone else, you selfish motherfucker. Are you Andrew Bird? No. You’re not. So shut the fuck up and give the rest of us a break. John, Bjorn and Peter – that goes double for you. Long may you suffer. Preferably in silence.   

Rant - Alex (H8URPL8)

H8URPL8

Oh hey, I don't know about you, but sometimes I feel so intensely strong about something that I can't imagine any other way to profess it to the world than through my license plate.  What better way to ask the question "RU DOWN" or let the inquiring minds behind you know that you "LUVSELYN"?  Of course, you'll never know if we are indeed down, and us poor people stuck behind you will have to live with the hauntingly unsolvable mystery of never knowing what, in fact, you sell ?  All I can assume is that you have a nauseating spelling handicap, leaving me with the plague of wanting to help.

You may think the regulation plate holders surrounding your vehicle are dying to make sure that you are the "NBR1PIMP" or a "PLYRH8R", or that the guy in the red Ferrari now has a "FSTRCAR" than his old one, but the truth is we don't give a cat's paw.  In fact, I now think you are an idiot and don't deserve a car.
So, in an effort to not lose my mind or go mental on one of you, I've made a game of decifering your riddles. I can usually MacGyver out the message, but sometimes it seems, passion is too great to fit within the allotted spaces on the sinner's license plate, and it comes out looking like someone from Sesame Street randomly threw up the alphabet.  Is that even worth shelling out extra dough for? Were you going to die if "L2MKUVT" (aka, "Love to Make You Vomit") wasn't on the back of your car? Blarf.

Oh, and apparently, single numbers are a hot ticket! The number "5" sold for 6.8 million dollars, and the number "1" is supposed to go for 15-20 million.  Personally, I can't think of any better way to spend that money.  Nope, not a single better way. Seriously, folks, you are pillars of society.

FUK U.

Rant - Polly

...leaves doing everything for a dollar.

How is that a legacy? A stupid yearbook tradition, 1998, when ink was still printed and indelible. Do they even print yearbooks today? If they don’t, the girl in the corner who talks to not one single boy in three years except to ask about homework assignments might have the opportunity to bravely ask that her legacy to the school be changed, and not illustrate some kind of propensity toward whorishness.

Sophomore year, one conversation, one that felt like one tenth of a conversation. Andy Barr, six-foot three and empty, sat at the head of the wooden table in our fancy cafeteria. Sunlight streamed through stain glass windows on twenty foot walls, illuminating the dust falling into the institutional slop on our plates. “Your omelette smells like my dog,” is what my roommate Kristen said to me after I waited in line for forty minutes to get custom-made ham and cheese and eggs. At least she was nice enough to let me sit next to her during sunday brunch. Andy had a broken hand from a football scrimmage and was complaining that his ‘pussy finger’ was worthless for month. How could boys be so raw. Kristen laughed. I ate my omelette and tried to pretend it didn’t smell like Kristen’s dog. I stopped listening. I had already stopped listening.

“No, I wouldn’t do it! Maybe, like, a million dollars...no, no! Not even.” Kristen was laughing.

Andy shook his head. “What if the guy was hot? No one would know, you’re on a plane, you’d never see him again.”

“A dollar.” I can still remember realizing it had come out of my mouth. Shock value. Listen to me.  I stared at my omelette. The girl from the corner who doesn’t talk to boys and eats dog-scent omelettes just opened her fucking mouth, oh yeah. The girl who has never kissed a boy on the lips would fuck a guy in an aiport bathroom for a dollar, if he was hot. I didn't mean it, I just wanted to be part of the conversation, and it came out like milk. But it burned. The words burned as soon as they hit the air. Burned, but never disappeared. Two years later, when the powers that be in the class put together the page of legacies, Andy Barr reached up his ass and pulled out a tiny nugget of humiliation. Just for me. How sweet. Fuck you.

Polly Witker leaves...

Rant - Mollie

The laundry list of things that annoy me is long and filled with small details like WHY DID YOU PUT AN EMPTY ICE CUBE TRAY BACK IN THE FREEZER? Seriously. That is near fascinating to me.

Prompt 4 - Rant

Hi all,


Sincerest apologies for my lack of postings, I hope to contribute much more to this blog as we move along.

I'd really like to hear about one thing that really irritates you and why, in rant form.

500 words or less, be descriptive.

Cheers!

Josh