Tag Archive: how to make my blood boil and have it shoot in your eye


“In my opinion” is a stupid phrase

I find the phrase “imo” or “in my opinion” to be annoying sometimes. I’ve said it very few times in the past, but I don’t like it. I usually don’t like restating the obvious, restating the obvious can make you sound really slow, or sometimes, it can make the person you’re talking to think that you think they’re slow.
When you add “imo” to your sentence, you might as well mention that the grass usually comes in a nice green color if you take care of it, gravity doesn’t let us fall out of the earth, and putting crackers and cheese together happens more frequently than substituting stress balls with cow testicles.

I was able to tolerate the phrase when people have said/typed it to me in the past (by not pointing it out), until today, until somebody who I don’t really like used it.

So here’s a quick background bonus story:

There is a girl, oh let’s call her Hortense (because the name is as disgusting as her heart), who sits next to me in one of my graphic design classes. She has been very rude and disrespectful towards me because the work that I create is more advanced than her’s, and she admits it.

Jealously was the original reason why Hortense acted so offensive towards me. Whenever she looked at my work, she would never say anything good about them, instead she’d say only “sarcastic” things such as, “Oh why don’t you just drap the class?”, “I’m sick of you”, “Please make something bad for a change so I can feel good about mine”, “Dude, just stap already,” etc (she had a funny accent, the kind that would say “bax” instead of “box”).

I’m OK with that kind of stuff, but she just kept on doing it, with every piece I made, to a point where it just became annoying and insulting. My policy for that kind of shit is if somebody is clearly jealous of you or your work and they can’t respect it, brag about whatever they’re jealous of. That’s right, rub it. Rub it all in. Rub cow testicles on their faces if you must.

And that’s what I did. I rubbed cow testicles on her face until she could savor the taste in her mouth (not really). When she would glance over at the projects I worked on, I made sure to tell her it was the best damn thing I’ve ever seen, and she gagged every time.

When she tried to make those stupid sarcastic comments about my work, I would cut her off to tell her how much time, effort, and skill I’ve put into it thus rendering them worthy enough to make love to, and she believed everything I said.

By the time she was fed up with my pretend cockiness, she asked, “Who the hell do you think you are?”

“God’s gift to graphic design,” I proudly declared.

“Ugh, YOU’RE gad’s gift graphic design?” She rolled her eyes at me, “I can’t believe you just said that..blah blah blah”

She just never shuts up.

But back to the point, haha, today in class, I was talking to one of my classmates about how I’m going to decorate my bedroom after the renovation, I wanted the walls to be pink, but I wasn’t allowed to paint it to said color anymore.

Hortense hears my conversation, she rudely cuts in and says, “pink’s nat a really good choice for wahlls in my opinion.”

“Well…no shit it’s your opinion,” I responded.

She looked at me in a sort of sad, did you just say that? expression, and then opened her mouth as if to answer, but snapped it back. I almost felt bad. Almost.

Case in point, using “imo” is retarded. To hear it come from her is even worse that I had to be rude about it. What good does it do besides pissing me off and filling up empty spaces on your ten page essay? “Imo” is a very snotty yet convenient way of saying, “everything that comes out of my mouth is infallible…with the minor exception for every ‘imo’ I add at the end of my sentences.”

But the problem is, anybody who uses “imo”, probably uses it randomly! They only say it when they feel like it and it makes me wonder…

You say, “this pizza doesn’t have enough pepperoni imo,” and den you say, “red doesn’t suit Kathy.”

Now since there’s absolutely no “imo” to be found in the second sentence, but there’s one in the first sentence, does this actually mean that it is of actual fact that red actually doesn’t suit Kathy?

BAH, I fart on your fact!

To reduce the confusion and the inconsistent sloppy usage of “in my opinion”/”imo”, there should be a specific rule.

From here on out, for those who will continue to reuse the phrase, make sure to always point out that it is your opinion for every opinion that you speak of. It is also required that you back up your “facts” with credible sources. I accept textbooks, documentary videos, and magazine and newspaper articles. Websites, ehh, aren’t as trustworthy as the other ones aforementioned. Sorry.

My parents are driving me kerr-rRAaZy!

Because of the renovation, I’ve been living in the garage with my parents for three weeks already and I…just…can’t…fucking…take it anymore.  Really, I tried to keep my cool.  I kept it cool for the first few days but gees, I cannot tolerate with the way they’ve been treating me.

They treat me like I’m their mentally retarded daughter.

Seriously.  That’s my only problem.  I wish I was trying to be funny, but I’m not.  I’m being treated like a person who suffers from mental retardation.

For instance, my parents will repeat the same stuff to me over and over and over and over again…

Dad: They just put the tiles in today, you can’t walk in the kitchen.

Me: Yeah, I know, the guys already told me.

Dad: Oh? Ok.

(30 minutes later)

Dad: Remember not to walk in the kitchen.

Me: I know.

(one hour later)

Dad: Don’t take a single step in the kitchen.

Me: Yeah, I know! Sheesh.

(five hours later)

Dad: You can’t walk in the kitchen.

Me: (head explodes)

They always restate the obvious…

Me: Wow it’s cold! Oh btw, I’m going to go out tonight.

Mom: Make sure to wear something warm.

Me: Nah…I think I’m going to go with a white fitted wifebeater so everyone can see how long my nipples will harden.

Another thing that really pushes my mentally retarded buttons is how they’re trying to put a curfew on me. It’s really weird. First of all, I’m 21 years old, I’m a woman, aright? And second, before the renovation, I had no rules, I had no curfews, so for them to coerce (yes coerced, dad used anger and intimidation on me to get me to sleep earlier, and mom used “but it’s mother’s day” excuse) me into hopping into bed on my “assigned” time is just really obnoxious…

Mom: I want you to sleep exactly at 12.

Me: No.

Mom: Please? For Mother’s Day?

Me: Why?

Mom: Because it will be good for you.

Yeah…wish I made this stuff up.  I really can’t wait to get out of here (the garage that is!).

Missing the toilet should be a crime

Look, I don’t think this is asking much, but I wish the restroom stalls at my gym and school had hooks so that I can hang my shit up. Like, at the gym, every time I’m doing my business in the ladies room, I have to lay my gym bag on my lap, but sometimes it tips over and lands on the floor. And for some reasons, that grosses me the fuck out.

What’s even more horrifying is seeing people’s jackets lying on the floor. I mean, if you’re going to lay your jacket on the restroom floor, intentionally, as you’re taking a piss, might as well throw it into the toilet that you’re pissing in. I’ve personally seen puddles of piss scattered throughout the floor inside of those stalls many, many times. No one’s going to clean it up, it dries up, and it stays there.

I bet you dudes are wondering how that could’ve happen in a women’s restroom, the piss puddles. See, some chicks prefer “hovering”. In this particular method, their ass cheeks doesn’t come in physical contact with the toilet seat and is only a few inches apart from each other (the ass and the seat). The ones that can do it do it like a champ. They are precise and their piss strategically spurts into the bowl without touching anything else. Beautiful.

The ones that don’t know how to hover but do it anyways, however, have weak knees. When in hovering position, knees are sloppily bent at a 130 degree angle (when it should be 90, at the least) and wobbling legs would commence. As a result, piss skips the toilet bowl and lands fucking everywhere.

Those kinds of inconsiderate hags should be banned from hovering, and they’re probably the same people who leave shit sit on the top of the toilet seat too.

Kanye West shutter shades are dumb

I can’t believe the number of dumbasses out here that wear Kanye West’s “shutter shades” casually as if they were actual sunglasses.  Every time I see somebody wear that, I’m usually tempted to poke both of their eyes right through their shutter shades with my fingers all stealth-like and then say, “That wouldn’t have happened if you wore real sunglasses. Sucks doesn’t it?”

I don’t get it.  They’re blinds in glasses form, except they don’t close.  Why would you want to impair your vision by looking through blinds all day? Or even a better question…why would you want to wear them while driving? Or even a better question…why would you want to wear them and take a photo of yourself driving with them on while driving?

Yes, the caption does say “Driving with my shutter shades”…twice. Yes, he wasn’t kidding. And yes, this is what he sees when he has them on, I shit you not:

I hate clubbing.

I know that most of my friends, who have previously taken me to clubs, will read this blog. So I wanted to clarify that writing this particular entry did not mean I had a completely terrible time when I was with them.  I will always enjoy their company regardless of the locale, but sometimes, we don’t stick together when we’re there, we’re out, separated, interacting with strangers.  But when I’m alone, I tend to sit back in the corner and observe, and the picture is different. I’d like to describe that picture.

Last time, I talked about the lackluster of generic hot people. Today, I’m going to talk about their mothership:

Clubs.

Clubs are like concerts but without the performers, and if there are no performers, it’s gotta be one fucking shitty concert.  It’s always packed; everyone’s hot and sweaty and bunched up together, grinding and groping all over the gotdamn dance floor like an enormous orgy rave.

One of the reasons why hot people love going to clubs is because it’s one of the few places where they’re not required to talk, and we all know that most hot people are incapable of carrying a lively conversation.  It’s practically impossible to communicate verbally and coherently without screaming in each other’s ears because the music is blasted to the max.

Concerts are also loud, but the difference is, you’re here to watch a show, there’s no need to talk.  But with clubs, there’s no main attraction, all you can do is shut up and dance, dance, dance!  Fuck that. It’s not even dancing either, the dance floor tends to get retardedly packed that all you can do is either dry hump your dancing partner or rock back and forth and pray that some drunkard bitch doesn’t dig her stiletto into your foot—which hurts really bad btw (I lied when I said it only hurt a little when people asked. I guess I wanted to be tough :-( ). Clubbing is a health hazard. I think I’d be better off if someone threw me into a hardXcore mosh pitt with that psychotic Moshzilla moshing beast.

Not only are we inept to communicate verbally but we can’t even communicate nonverbally for fucks sake.   Clubs are dark and laden with fog (machines), and disco lights and strobe lights sporadically flicking on and off, swerving, swooshing, swaying all in your face (how rude).  Everyone looks like they’re doing the robot, but they’re not. You can forget about mouthing your buddy to ask whether they’re ready to call it a night or not, or making awkward hand gestures to them just to see if they wanted a drink, because you can’t see shit.

Ever wonder why chicks complain about the guys they encounter at clubs? It’s because it’s the place to get drunk and hookup.  Guess what? Guys usually aren’t there just to “hang out”, they want to score some pussy, and any broad that walks into a club, automatically has a billboard on top of her head that says, “I’M FREE. PLEASE BE THE HORNDOG THAT YOU ARE AND DRY HUMP YOUR WAY TOWARDS MY CLIT.”

Without having your friends, clubs aren’t that entertaining.  Without having your cockblocking friends, it can get very creepy.  And friends or no friends, it can get old pretty fast, if done frequently.  I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a hypocrite, because I sort of am.  I’ve been to them before, in fact, I’ve been to one very recently, but the more I see the more I want to slit my wrists with a vegetable peeler.

Man, I sound like such an old fartin’ party pooper.  I don’t think anyone is going to ever invite me to anything after reading this.

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