Sorry Oprah

Get up. Watch Sportscenter while checking Twitter. Go to work, and try not to get discouraged by the uninspiring atmosphere. Bust your ass for no reward. Come home. If you’re lucky The Lady is there to take the edge off the malaise. If she is not, drown the malaise with a six pack of liquid mind number, and stay tuned for more wacky hijinx on America’s Got Me Fucked Literally (but really figuratively).

Maybe one day I’ll find “The Secret” like Oprah, and my life will bloom like a new rose and the world will be my oyster and unicorns will shit rainbows of magic pooh on my head. Until then my shitty attitude will be be my umbrella, and Oprah can suck many boring dicks.

Sorry Oprah,

http://PoorlyThoughtOutThoughts.wordpress.com

Opinions Are Like Assholes

Opinions are like assholes. Usually, the person stating one is an asshole. Need proof? The following are things I learned browsing the “Opinion” feed on Word Press:

*Iggy Azalea is a white racist, and Nikki Minaj is very upset about it.

*Feminists want to kill everything masculine.

*Cats are better than dogs. Whew, glad someone cleared that up for me. 😻

*Pro-choice people won’t be satisfied until all the adorable thimble sized babies are brutally massacred by filthy liberals.

*The band Snow Patrol is “shite”. I liked this one for two reasons. One because it’s true. Two, because the blogger used the more sophisticated British version- “SHITE!”.

*Selfie shaming is a hot social issue. Seriously, fuck off. Just fuck off.

For a second I was sure the Word Press App was broken, and had mistakenly imported my Facebook feed. Seriously, tho at least on Word Press I have to seek out the stupid, while Facebook is a never ending source of moronic opinions and endless baby pics that no one wants to see. I swear the first person to use the term, “I can’t even” was reading their weird cousin’s pro guns pie chart.

So, I’m done for now. I’m sure more things will set me off tomorrow, and if I remember what they were, I’ll be sure to share. But, until then try and post something that doesn’t make me want to stare into an eclipse. Will ya!?

https://poorlythoughtoutthoughts.wordpress.com

Ice Bucket Douchiness

These are my poorly thought out thoughts on the ALS ice bucket challenge.
First they came for the yolos, and I did not speak out. Then they came for the baby boomers, and I did not speak out. Then they came for me, so here are my thoughts if anyone cares. I was challenged, and chose to make a small donation, and forgo all the freezing wet douchiness. Why? Because I find it all really really douchy. Like everyone doing the YMCA at weddings douchy. Not into it.

So therefore, I’m not calling anyone out, but I do suggest that you find a way to be charitable (time or money) to a good cause like ALS, cancer, homelessness etc. Not because a well meaning friend or relative shamed you to, but because it’s the right thing to do. Stay dry, and don’t be a douche.

Un-related Random Thoughts
*I was nominated for a fun little blogger award, but part of it is to nominate 15 bloggers. Dudes, I don’t even know 15 bloggers yet. So, I’m workin on that.
*NY Rangers pre-season hockey starts tomorrow night, and the Jets are on Monday Night Football. 😀 Yay!
*I need to start going to bed earlier but, I write better at night.
*The new Doctor Who is growing on me. I might let him stay.
*Joan Rivers was a badass. Don’t think so? Watch her last comedy special. RIP Joan.

https://poorlythoughtoutthoughts.wordpress.com

Too Much Gas

Actual dialogue I had engaged in with 2 strangers yesterday:
Me: “Fuck you! And Fuck You!”
Other guy: “Fuck you, you trash!”
Me: “Fuck you, you fuckin theif!”
Him: “Mother fucker!”
Me: “You’re a fuckin idiot!”

Not proud of it, but I think I was justified. It was just a routine trip to the gas station, but I got screwed, and the non-cha leant attitude I received devolved me into an obscenity screaming lunatic. My Brooklyn, Italian ancestors would be proud at least, but I’m not sure I am. I’d like to present the situation here for review. Please feel free to call me an asshole if you feel it’s warranted, but back it up if you must. Anyway, here goes:

I pull into the gas station after work. A droopy eyed young male attendant comes to my window. I say clearly, “$20 regular please.” He grunts his understanding as I hand him my debit card.

He puts the nozzle in. (In Jersey you’re not allowed to pump your own. Usually this is great.) He walks away to service other cars. I wait and browse my podcasts. A minute goes by, and I turn around to see if It’s done. I rub my eyes as I think I see the counter go from $29 to $30. I take a beat, assess, and now I’m sure. This dude f’d up. I honk my horn to get his attention. I point at the pump.

“Hey, I said twenty.”

He stops the pump, and looks in at me as I say in a loud agitated voice, “I said twenty. I’m not paying for that.” The price had gone to $31.68.

He tells me to wait, turns around, runs my card and gives me a receipt for $31.68. Then he asks me in a non-cha leant Eastern European accent.,

“So what we gonna do?”.
“Whaaaaaat? You’re gonna refund me $11.68!”
“Can’t”
“Whaddya mean can’t!? I said $20. You over-charged me.”
“You have gas.”
“You gave me extra I didn’t ask for!”

He asks me to stop yelling. I ask where his boss is. He points to a skinny looking guy in sixties getting in a car across the lot. I first have to ask Mr. What we gonna do to step back so I don’t run over his foot. I drive over to the boss, take a deep breath and say calmly out the window, “Excuse me are you the boss?” He nods surprisedly. “I need to talk to you”.” I continue. I step out of the car and walk over trying to convey an attitude of seriousness without being at all threatening. The attendant has made his way over.

“Your employee over-charged me. I need a refund.”
Bossman is non-plussed.
I clarify, “I asked for $20 regular. He charged me $31.68.”
Droopy face chimes in, “I thought you say fill it.”
“I said $20!” I’m starting to get agitated again.
Boss in a Middle Eastern Accent: “You have the gas.”
“I didn’t want it. I asked for $20. He gave me $31.68. Give me a refund!”
“Take out gas.”

At that comment I went from highly agitated to fucking pissed off.

Pointing in his face, “You’re the gas guy! You fucking take it out!”
Now he tries to spin it. “You drive tommorow, next day. You use gas anyway.”
“This is insane! You’re stealing from me! Give me my $11.68 back!”

The next few exchanges are about how does he know that I’m not just lying and how it’s not possible to give me a refund. I reply that he’s insane to think anyone would conjure up a stupid fight like this. I also embarrassedly refer to my twenty years of retail experience, and make a cash registery gesture with my hand as proof that it’s very easy to refund a customer when you fuck up. He disagrees. I decide it’s a losing battle and it’s time to exchange fucks (refer to the top of the post). I’m screaming first as I walk to my car, then from the window as I drive off.

So, I am glad that I stood up for myself, but disappointed that I let these a-holes get to me. I haven’t had a confrontation like this in years, and that last one was a put on to impress a girl. So, the whole thing took me by surprise. And, it wasn’t the amount of money. It’s that these guys thought it was ok to force me into a sale I didn’t agree to, and when called on it they couldn’t give two shits, or do the right thing. I guess I’m sick of being shit on by outside entities. I mean, even the cable company refunds you if you call them out for charging you for channels you didn’t ask for. The god damn mother fuckin evil cable company has better morals than these guys! Ahhhhhh!

So, what do you think. Was I wrong? Over the top, maybe? Help me sort though this, cause I can’t afford therapy. Not that I need it….. Ahh, damnit, I’m droning. So what’s up Pressers? How’d I do?

https://poorlythoughtoutthoughts.wordpress.com

Word Press People Problems

Blargh, I thought I had an average aptitude for internet navigation, but Word Press is kicking my ass. Is it me, or does it make simple things like getting up a profile pic much more difficult than necessary? I had to create a “Gravatar” profile to get the pic up. Strange. This Gravatar thing also makes other stuff like trying to follow people challenging too because there’s not always a link or follow bar. Maybe they’re trying to weed out dummies like me, but word Press really needs to simplify IMO. I’ve got to go figure out how to to change the website that pops up under my pic to Word Press instead of Tumblr. I don’t even know how or why it did that. *Lots of sighs…. Maybe tomorrow I’ll get back to actual writing.

https://poorlythoughtoutthoughts.wordpress.com

Small Talk

People are so damn boring. Nobody has one interesting thing to say. Not one person I talk to during the course of the day has an intelligent thought or humorous uhh, quip or anecdote. Blah blah fuckin blah! Same bs over and over. And nothing’s worse than small talk. Small talk sucks in general but there’s certain small talk like wedding or funeral small talk that’s un fucking bearable. For instance, once a year I have the same conversation with the same distant older cousin. Whenever someone gets married or dies she’s there. She’s in her sixties. Her name is Judy or Mary or Frank. I don’t know. So every time Judy corners me and is like “So you’re in Jersey?” “Yeah still in Jersey Frank, uh I mean Judy” “No kids yet?” “No not yet.” “And you mom and dad are in Jersey too?” “I’m sorry Alice I heard its open bar and I need to get black out drunk before anymore relatives recognize me.”

And, I hate when people want to talk about their job. It’s always someone whose thinks his job is exponentially better than yours. He’s only a few years older and knows just how to climb that corporate ladder to the tune of 30k a year. And much like I can’t get Judy’s name right he thinks mine is Bro for some reason. “Bro you just gotta go for it you know. Bro fuck that noise, see what I did bro I told my boss if I don’t get that 25 cent merit raise I was walkin bro.” All the time he’s fake texting like I’m the asshole he’s trying to get away from, and oogling 14 year old girls I’m pretty sure we’re related too. Real standup guy.

So, if you see me at a party don’t feel obligated to spend 5-10 minutes awkwardly boring me with inane questions or bragging about your shiny new Hyundai. A simple nod and wave from a distance is perfectly okay. However, there is one phrase that will get my attention: “Hey, wanna do a shot?” Now that’s a conversation starter.