With All Due Respect, You ARE a D-Bag.

I was in a mall store today that sold suits and rented tuxes.

Some preppy blonde douchebag proceeded to be douche-y and ignorant to the minimum-wage making sales staff because he wanted his RENTED tux to be shortened in the body (READ: major alteration to the construction of the RENTED jacket).

Approximation of douche-i-ness. Plus an entourage who reeked of cologne. Image Source.

The abused sales clerk tried to tell him they can make minor adjustments to the sleeves and pant hems, but not the jacket, as it is rented and isn't their property to cut/modify to that extent.

MY FAVOURITE (READ: Rage-enducing) MOMENT?
When aforementioned blonde douchebag got EXTRA snippy and started an ignorant, respectless tirade with the statement:

"With all due respect..."

People, don't be fucking stupid. If you mean to offend someone, don't start your passive-aggressive line with "No offense, but..."

or be completely and utterly disrespectful, but preface it with:

"With all due respect..."

While you gaze at your reflection in the mirror and swear at the sales staff of a rental store because you are the GODDAMN EMCEE of that wedding, and ANOTHER JACKET you own fits you better and you SIGNED A RENTAL AGREEMENT, and B!TCH, B!TCH, B!TCH. This guy was more of a bridezilla then I will EVER be.

*SIGH*

I made this shit. So image credit is MINE, bitches. No offense...

Also? I suck at returns. I leave them until the last minute, then turn around and spend MORE money in the store than the amount I returned. Fuck.

Also? I CANNOT extract myself from conversations I don't want to have. I talked about wedding bands for over 45 minutes with the sales lady who pressured me and told me the rings hardly ever go on sale at Michael Hill

(Srsly? You are a mall jeweler. You have pre-printed signs up every other week promoting a sale. Don't insult my intelligence.)

Could I say that to her? NO. I was ball-less and said I needed to think things over and blah blah blah. JESUS, MAN UP, STEPHANIE!

I also managed to end up talking to the Koodo sales rep about marriage, trust, relationships, and how overpriced those damn iPhones are. (At least I get points for that last one, since it was relevant). He was a nice guy... but who else seriously ends up in hour long off-topic conversations with sales clerks for such extended durations? If I made a friend out of it, great. If not... WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME!?!???!

Also? I'd like to send a big shout out and fuck off to stress sweat. Dear laaaaawd I HATE that shit~!

Like me, but with slightly less MOOB. (Moob = man boob)

You know, so... you're typical mall outing. If YOU ARE ME.

/RANT.



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The Best Quote I've Ever Heard...

Goes like this:

"If we knew each other's secrets, what comfort we would find." — John Churton Collins

No need to feel ashamed, little kitty. S'okay.

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Irrational Hatred #2 - Devil Spawn Thread

Some of you may be aware that I, sometimes, hold completely insane/maniacal/intense hatreds for relatively inane, everyday things. (Although, in fairness, Michael Bublé is f*cking annoying as f*ck! Inane nothing! GAH!).

These things typically result in an overwhelming and inexplicable outpouring of rage.

This little jean-label-thread-thing here is a hatred I have held for a loooooong time.

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAWR!

Those little threads? Devil spawn, I tell you. Some jeans have them on the back waistband, the pockets, the zipper, up the legs... (okay, not really, but whatever. I hate them).

Some people think that as long as the label is removed, all is well. Those people are WRONG.

Annoys the absolute FUCK dickens out of me.

If I am standing behind you in a line up somewhere and see those little buggers, I am SO tempted to try to rip them out by hand (in vain) to get them to disappear.

They.Drive.Me.Batshit.Crazy.Er.

I bought two new pairs of jeans the other night and the FIRST this I did was get the sharp-pointy scissors to disembowel the threads.

THREADS BE DAMNED!

It's amazing the emotion I hold for these things.
Sometimes my own weirdness even freaks ME out~!


So keep an eye on your waistbands and asses, folks. If I see them, YOUR ASS IS MINE. I can be anywhere and everywhere. And if there are threads, you are NOT safe.

Fair warning.

VICTORY IS MINE!! And yes, I got the jeans on sale. You guys know me BY NOW!

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