Thursday, April 14, 2005


Yes, this great day is almost upon us. The day(s) in which I will nerd out and geek out all at the same time and drool all over George Perez's booth (again). And watch Dawn of the Dead (again). And get talked down to, and treated like I'm arm candy for whatever guy I happen to be with (again).

A few years ago, I went with Teh Ted(r). We walked around, I bought toys, I went over to the booth of a guy who had modern-age comics and he proceeded to talk directly to Ted the entire time I was there even though *I* was the one leafing through the comics. Ted said I was the one who knew shit about shit, so he should talk to me. And I said ahh yes. I see you have a copy of Nightwing #1. That's quite expensive. I didn't know it was fetching such a good price. I happen to have two of them. Suddenly the guy was kissing my ass, promising me a good deal if I brought one in the next day, bla bla bla. I walked away from his booth and never went back.

On other seperate and equally happy notes:

Dear Men;

Unlike your sorry ass, I CAN format a machine and install XP/LINUX dual boot. And actually have the fucker boot up again when I'm done. Y'know, unlike YOUR sorry ass. So don't talk down to me when seeking my help because you messed it up and now it won't see the XP side. Asshats.


The Management

Dear Assclowns at the Ford Dealership on Route 28 in Pittsburgh,

First of all, it's not cool to NOT LOOK UNDER MY FUCKING CAR when it's brought in on two seperate occasions for two seperate accidents and only fix the body damage, thus missing the damage under the car that I need to now fix before it'll pass inspection.

Next on the list of uncool things, it's not cool to bust off my ugly but still functional mirror this way you can say "oh, man, we just touched it and it fell off" then write me up an estimate for $300 to fix it. Way unshway.

Third, totally not fucking cool to tell me my breaks are down to 1/32 and I can't drive on them, bla bla... then I take it to a third party to get the work down and they take off the wheel and show me I'm at 8/32 (which, for you common denominator freaks, is 1/4. 1/4 of what, I don't know. But it's 1/4 of 25% of something. Possibly an inch. Possibly the distance between my foot and your ass. I don't know.) That's being a total assclown. I guess you thought that because I was a chick I'd just pay it and be done. Think again, assclown.

Fourthly (I fricking love turning words into adverbs by sticking ly at the end of them), when we say we're looking for a second car (or truck, or solar-powered tonka, or clown car) and I say I'm looking for something bigger than 4 clynders, that this is going to be MY car, that I am making the decision, it's especially uncool and unendearing for you to ignore me like I'm not even there and talk to my husband like I'm not even there. This is America, fuck yeah. It's not the middle east. I'm not invisible. I also happen to take the car for all of it's appointments and hold tight the purse strings. So talk to the person with the bigger paycheck, fuckhead.


Not Gunna Patronize Your Asses Again.


Lastly, I'm contemplating wearing a shirt to Comicon that details that I'm smarter than you, I can make my computer go vroom vroom better than you, I know more about cars than you do, I'm not going to get ripped off by you, I know more about comics than you do, and if you try to rip me off, talk down to me or ignore me, I'll take out the machette that I'm hiding between my boobs and hack your mother fucking head off. :::::HAACKAA PAALLE!:::::




Blogger Clueless Minx said...

Oh my god... I'm soooo gonna put a link to your blog on mine. I just LAUGHED my ASS off Bill Hicks style. I love your sense of humour. Top notch!

9:03 AM  

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