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A Diary of Misanthropy

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you know what i fucking HATE?????? [07 Jan 2009|05:38pm]

[ mood | pissed off ]

I'm very, very, very, ffffffffffffffFFFFFFFFFFFFFFUCK YOU!!!!!
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. . . [26 Nov 2008|08:21pm]

You know what I hate?

T H E S P I A N S !

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Whoever said "There are no stupid questions" never worked retail [16 Nov 2005|07:31am]

As usual, the gas station where I work ran out of newspapers.

As usual, nine billion geniuses entered the store, glanced at the CLEARLY EMPTY newspaper rack, then walked over to the counter, scratching their overall-clad redneck asses, and asked me, "Ain't you got no newsy-papers?"

So, last night, I printed up a large, friendly-looking sign, and taped it to the empty paper rack:


Examine the situation.

Draw the obvious conclusion.

Leave without asking stupid questions.

That way, you won't look stupid,
or be openly mocked.

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phone idiots [28 Sep 2005|12:29pm]

i would just like to disclose my intense (and growing) hatred for the people i talk to on phones. i work at a bankruptcy law firm as the phone monkey. some people i really do feel sorry for, you know? breast cancer, husband died, whatever. other people get off so easy from a ton of debt by just paying a thousand dollars.

but what really gets me is that i'll say something loud and clear to them over the phone and they'll ask me for information that i just gave. so many different phone situations. i hate people i talk to on the phone quite simply.

sometimes they ask me for help on something so simple i want to say, "do you need help going to the bathroom, too?"
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Because I love people so much, especially people with cell phones glued to their faces [29 Jul 2005|08:24am]

As always, the joy of working third shift in a gas station is: no co-workers, no management; so I can do just about anything I want.

So last night I taped a sign to the counter.

It read like this:

* * *


Customers who are engrossed in their cell phone conversations and paying no attention to their transactions will be deliberately shortchanged and/or overcharged.

Thank you for shopping here!

* * *

A lot of people read it, laughed, and thought I was joking. I wasn't.
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Possibly incoherent [23 Jun 2005|01:30am]

The thing I hate most about people is their firm belief that they are in some way special.

Humans are repetitive, derivative lumps of flesh. This belief that every human is inherently worthwhile is annoying. I hate that the idea of 'souls' is so widely accepted. We don't have souls and we aren't all beautiful freckles on the nose of the giant pixie (Blackadder!). The only thing that makes us in any way different to dumb animals is empathy, not some mystical property. (Sidenote: People who believe animals have souls are brainless children.)

People who think their needs and desires are important simply because they are human and so have the "right" to be happy are fucking irritating. Just being human does not immediately make you worthy of respect or consideration. It just means that you've learnt to form mutually beneficial relationships with others of your species. Humans. Our opposable thumb doesn't look so special when all we're holding is processed fast food and a mobile phone. Our supposed 'souls' mean fuck all when the majority is a mass of selfish, cruel imbeciles.

Bloody souls. Arrogant and ridiculous. Don't even get me started on "basic human rights."
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I believe the children are our future. [05 Jun 2005|12:57am]

Sometimes I think it's wrong to hate people simply because of the clothes they wear, the manner of their speech, or the music blaring out of their car.

Then I remember:


* * *

The convenience store I work at has decided to stop opening packs of cigars and selling them one at a time. You want a cigar? You'll have to somehow manage to scrape up a whole three dollars. The local wigger community is, of course, enraged.

I have this conversation a ba-jillion times a night:

"Yaw, dawg, ah wan buy one dem cigarillos."

"We no longer sell single cigars."



"Aw, shit, dawg, I ain't got no money fo' no whole pack."

"Yes, you'd have to be a Trump, wouldn't you?"

"How come you don't sell no mo' dem singles?"

"We discovered it was attracting an unfavorable element."

"Do whu? Who?"

"Mainly broke-ass stoner children who come in here babbling in some incoherent, psuedo-eubonics-style speech, haven't got the sense to pull up their pants, waste our time with fake I.D.s that list their addresses as COMPTON, GEORGIA, and reek up our bathrooms with the stench of 'kine bud' and 'inspired by CK one.'"

"Damn! You know what? I wish I was dead."

"*Were* dead. You wish you *were* dead."

"Aw, shit. Good grammar be important, yo!"

"True dat, home slice."
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No. One. Cares. [09 May 2005|04:25pm]

I'd just like to make a note that nobody gives two shits and a fuck whether your goddamn child is an honor student. Or if he's in the reading club. Or if he was a 'Participant' in the school Geography Bee.

Your child is one of about four hundred million in the world. He's not special except to you.

All you're asserting with your goddamn bumper-sticker is 'My kid is better than your kid'. We got over that when we were six with the 'my dad is better than your dad'.

Or, for those few of you who aren't asserting the betterness of your children and are in fact trying to coddle their fucking self-esteem (sidenote: This self-esteem bullshit needs to go too. Like, now.) need to lay the fuck off. The world does not love your child. The world does not believe your child is special enough to warrant privileged treatment. By showing your child that you are telling the world about how cool they are, they're going to expect the world to recognize their coolness. They aren't. The world will eat their tender and irrelevant 'self-esteem' alive, because, as I said, no. one. cares.

Take the stupid fucking bumperstickers off your damn car and put something worth reading on there instead. Sum up your philosophy. Make an assertion. Don't simply declare 'I have a child and he does stuff.'

I hate people. Hate.
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[03 May 2005|10:13am]

i HATE martin short.

there is NOTHING funny about him.

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. . . [29 Apr 2005|05:19pm]

Just so you all know, while I may not actually be excited about this community anymore, I do still read the posts, and I do go through and delete shit that strikes me as lame or irrelevant on an semi-regular basis.

Included in the lame and irrelevant category are posts that start with the sentence, "Well, I guess I'm the only one that posts in this community anymore!".

Just so you know.
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[29 Apr 2005|05:33pm]

[ mood | annoyed ]

Okay, here's what I hate.

When people spam communities with completely stupid, inappropriate shit like this and this and this and this and - well, you get the picture. I keep seeing this shit all over communities I am in and I pretty fucking tired of it.

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Tastes like piss, don't it? [16 Apr 2005|06:40am]

The beverage coooler at my gas station is broken. There's signs to that effect hanging up, which are completely ignored by all my mouth-breathing, butt-scratching, barefoot, barely-literate white trash customers.

So I'm stuck having this exact same conversation over and over:

Customer (putting six-pack of Budweiser on the counter): Is this cold?

Me (Grabbing the beer, which is room-temperature): Yeah, it's chilly as liquid nitorgen.

Customer: It don't feel too damn cold to me.

Me: If you have already felt it for yourself, and determined it's not cold, why did you just ask me?

Customer: My brain is actually located in my rectum. It's a side effect of my sister and my mammaw being the same bitch.

Me: Don't call your mammaw that, Hoss. It ain't none too real respectful-like.

Customer: Aw, dang it. You is right, boy! I feels bad. I wish I was dead.

Me: Hey. Wait. *Were* dead. You wish you *were* dead.

Customer: So um how come this Budweiser is warm as piss, anyhow?

Me: Well, somebody with half a brain might conclude that the beverage cooler is "done busted." But since that's beyond you, I'm gonna say, since it's the official Idiot Nascar beer, and tastes like piss, we decided it's only fair to serve it warm as piss.

Customer: Thanks for learning me about beer. Well, I done put me a seed in Britney Spears's belly, so I best go tend to that.

Me: Enjoy! Oh, and please name it "Dakota."

Customer: Will do, good buddy.

* * *

The great thing about living in the South is, all the people who can't spell "incestuous stereotype," but can spell "play Freebird."

The great thing about working in a gas station is, because I'm the only employee in the store during pretty much my whole shift, and because they're too desperate for help to fire me, I can say and do gol-dang near anything I feel like, and get away with it.
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Dear Wool Hat Man Who Reeks Of Gin And Febreeze [13 Apr 2005|04:06am]

When entering my convenience store, please note:

The fact that you have thirty cents in your pocket does not mean you will be treated as a "valued customer." The fact that you have only thirty cents in your pocket means you will be treated like "a stupid crapsack geegaw moron who only got thirty cents."

If you waste more than one minute hemmming and hawing around, trying to decide how you want to spend your little fortune, I will kick your ass out. I have more important things to do than dealing with you. Things like reading the newspaper. And writing this rant. And staring off into space while gently scratching myself.

I hate you.

The fact that you look (and smell) homeless will not win you any sympathy from me. I'm not running a homeless shelter.

No, we don't take food stamps.

No, we don't sell food. We sell sugary crap and salty crap. If you're so poor that you're on welfare, you don't need to be wasting money on King Size Super Chocolate Reese's Cups. (Particularly not at the exorbitant prices this store charges for such confectioneries.) You don't need candy bars--you being poor is bad enough--you being poor AND obese just makes me hate you.

What? No, you can't "bum a smoke" off me. You're poor AND obese AND you smoke? Brilliant. So when you've given yourself cancer and diabetes, the taxpayers can foot the bill for that.

Did I mention I hate you?
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Terri [28 Mar 2005|03:24pm]

[ mood | pissed off ]

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[26 Mar 2005|10:33pm]

i hate really stuck up conceited girls who act like theyre so superior/beautiful/perfect/great and spend 5 hours getting ready to go to the grocery store and always have to wear a ton of designer (or fake designer, cant decide which is worse) jewelry and clothes and have fake hair and are really bitchy to everyone and dont know anything about the real world.

i also really hate people who think they are really hip and obscure because they listen to shitty fake indie bands or the velvet undergound. i hate a lot of other things too, i'll keep you updated.
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[04 Dec 2004|04:33pm]

I was just thinking to myself, "Whatever happened to that misanthropy group threne had??", I must have been a member when I had an old LJ and forgot all about it, so here I am again, I am glad to see that it is still here.
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[23 Sep 2004|10:03pm]

[ mood | irritated ]

Dear girl who committed suicide over OMG!bullies,

You are not the only person in the world to ever commit suicide. You are also not the only person in the world to ever be bullied.
Therefore if you are going to commit suicide over bullying, do it fucking quietly!
You know, so I don't have to fork out 40p a day on a Daily Mail just to have to look at your mug and read your I'm-too-emo-for-my-razor-blades letters in it.

Love Zarrah.

PS: There is such a thing as anti-attention seeking - you personify it.

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Go to Hell, Jesus! [11 Sep 2004|06:27pm]

[ mood | :~headdesk~: ]

Being pro-choice and/or child-free is apparently against the will of the Bible.

Can we please remember that Jesus had no children? And let's face it, folks, he had twenty-odd years to get started on it.

Therefore, Jesus is evil and must be sent to hell immediately. Someone call Satan.

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i say mean things [30 Aug 2004|01:58am]

[ mood | indifferent ]

My mother is the president of the 'IfYouDon'tHaveAnythingNiceToSayDon'tSayAnythingAtAll' fan club.

I disagree. If you don't want me to say what I think, don't bring up subjects to me that you think we're going to disagree on. Don't ask me for your opinion, don't befriend me, and don't travel in my circles. I pay attention to my friends - online or off. I listen, and when I disagree, I speak up. Some people like that about me. Some people don't. But I'm not offended in the least by the ones who'd rather just avoid me. I don't know that I'd want to be in my company if I was someone else.

If I'm tired of hearing someone talk about whateverboringthingtheythinkisinteresting I just very obviously change the subject. I'll try and be subtle sometimes, but it usually doesn't work. I don't bite when people fish for compliments. It's that simple: I don't like fake people and I refuse to participate in fake conversations. Fake conversations are the norm over at the 'IfYouDon'tHaveAnythingNiceToSayDon'tSayAnythingAtAll' camp, because they bite their tongues and smile and nod and give compliments and tell people what they want to hear and comment arbitrarily in journals just because they think they need to be commenting in someone's journal.

Tangent-time: This is totally off-topic, but if you happen to be someone in who's journal I actually comment, it means you're fucking rad. It also means you post things I think are interesting, or you're talking about something that actually means something to me. Or you might just be someone who provokes me to walk a mile in shoes that don't fit.

I'm not a firm believer in the 'ignore it - it will go away' thing either. Whoever said that either had no fucking concept, or just no frame of reference for what they were talking about.

I don't look for trouble, but Trouble sure as fuck knows where I live. He comes over all the time, under false pretenses. Grin and bear it? Um, no.

I'm going to say this once, and I'm going to say it loud as hell, because I fucking hate repeating myself.

When it comes to all these little golden-ruleish proverbs, all I can verbalize is a big 'FUCK THAT'.

I have a new saying:

Xindy Rule #1: If You Don't Have Anything Interesting/Intelligent/WellWritten/New/Original/Creative/Pretty/Ugly/Deep/Intellectual/Ridiculous/Amusing/Factual/Fun/Spiffy/Random To Say, Don't Fucking Talk To Me, Unless you're pointing me to something someone else said that happens to be Interesting/Intelligent/WellWritten/New/Original/Creative/Pretty/Ugly/Deep/Intellectual/Ridiculous/Amusing/Factual/Fun/Spiffy/Random.

How about that?

(x-posted tobrutal_honesty)

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Teen Pregnancy - and the point is....? [20 Jul 2004|02:29pm]

[ mood | cranky ]

I don't understand some teenage girls. The instant they start their periods, they're all off getting pregnant. The area in which my old high school is in is legally able to give out condoms and emergency contraception now, for the simple reason that they need to do it or every single girl in the area is going to get pregnant.
I swear, half of them probably don't know where the kids are coming from. You'd think they'd spot a correlation between sex and small person popping out, but no, they don't.
They must think it's cool or something - cool to be wandering around town with a pram, cigarette hanging out of your mouth, skimpy vest top and tight jeans on that most teenagers could look good in, but you don't because you've got a shitload of stretch marks and still haven't lost weight since giving birth to little Bratly. (Yes, I do see that all the time, no, I am not making this stuff up)

OK, sarcastic bitching aside - why?
They have little to no education. Now that they've had their child, they're not going to be able to get an education. In fact, they're not going to be able to get anything! They're still children themselves! They may say 'But I'll have the rest of my life to get an education and go out and have fun.' but no, kids, you won't.

When your bastard child reaches 18 and fucks off into the world, where are you going to be? You're going to be in your late thirties to early forties, probably with more children to look after - you may be married. You're not going to be able to be bothered to go get qualifications, get out and party, whatever! You've had your teenage years, the years where you could be bothered; you scuppered them giving birth, remember?

But hey - you know the worst thing?
They don't have to do anything - they'll get an apartment given to them on a silver platter, they'll get benefits, they'll get grants, they'll get their entire lives paid for by the taxpayer*.
And if you go off to get an education at university, you're going to spend the rest of your life in debt because the government is spending all their money on the shitbags above. And on top of that, you're stuck giving your own money to leeches in the form of tax.

And the government are having the brass neck to complain about the lack of teenagers going on to higher education. I ask you...

*Taxpayer: People who actually bothered working for a living

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