Angry? Mad as hell and you can't take it anymore? Get something off your chest and it could be published online and/or in print. Bitches are anonymous and may be edited for length, grammar, spelling and our lenient standards of propriety.
Saturday, June 13, 2009
I want to thank you for obliterating my faith in humanity. Standing in line, your phone rings. You pull it out, stare at it, let it ring a few times so the restaurant knows you're getting a phone call, then proceed to answer it. Loudly. Suddenly, it's your turn in line, and you point at the menu and say "Two of those, bro." The cashier had to turn around and figure out what you wanted, with no help from you, still jabbering on your cell.
Then, the cashier decided to ask you a most horrifying and offensive question: "What size?" Not once or twice but three times, since you were so enraptured with your phone conversation. Finally, after grunting out an answer, you had the nerve to say to your phone buddy, "Sorry man, these people keep interrupting me." THESE PEOPLE are trying to serve you, you stupid dipshit! I couldn't contain my ice-bitch glare, and the man behind me even started laughing at you. If I were that cashier, I guarantee you I would have been fired that day.
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