Things you have an irrational hatred of

[B]

I think spam e-mails are going to break my brain one day.

I have a Pinterest account. I'm sure I chose "Don't send me your horseshit," when I joined. Then today, I get an e-mail, "Look how you can use Pinterest to make your life so fucking awesome!"



Ugh. I'm sure they changed their privacy policies to "in order to serve you better, even though you chose for us to not bug you, our new policies allow us to bug you again."

Please also apply this hate to NewEgg who sends me a daily digest because I bought a charger cord once, and SmartWool who I bought a pair of socks from in January.

[tree_]

Reminds me, I recently received an e-mail from someone with MY NAME informing me that my Geek Squad subscription is being automatically renewed:

Renewal Date: Wednesday, July 20, 2022
Order Number: DffP-h2iniW-Yuoii
Transaction ID: HQL7523WE34375WZ
Thank you for being the part of our company since 2017. we hope you enjoyed your experience. Just letting you know that your membership expired yesterday.
We wanted to remind you that you've chosen the automatic renewal option. Your membership has been renewed for USD 663.99 for next 5 year.

Issues with this transaction?
You have 24 hours from the date of the
transaction to open a dispute
Call us on (801) 512 0532

So I called the phone number and gave them all of my credit card information, social security and everything and it seems to have straightened the whole thing out. Weird, cause I didn't even think I had a Geek Squad membership before. Go figure.

[spike]

[Jorge]

Oh no tree_ what did you do!!!

[tree_]

uhh... saved $663.99 from being wasted on something i don't need duh

[Ms Harmless]

people who call an Irish tin whistle a "flute"

[daft twat]

The phrase “game changer” has worn out its welcome.

[dad]

The phrase “game changer” has worn out its welcome.

can confirm.

[Ello Sailor]

Go have a shit, Daft.

[wease]

people who call an Irish tin whistle a "flute"

What about calling a skin flute an Irish tin whistle?

[epilogue]

people who call an Irish tin whistle a "flute"

What about calling a skin flute an Irish tin whistle?

[Bammer]

[Bammer]

Haha thought I was in the what are you drinking right now thread.

To be clear I like this beer. I do not irrationally hate it.

[spike]

people who call an Irish tin whistle a "flute"

What about calling a skin flute an Irish tin whistle?

game changer

[spike]

Haha thought I was in the what are you drinking right now thread.

To be clear I like this beer. I do not irrationally hate it.

have another

[lennytheweedwhacker]

Hi John.

[spike]

Hi Dave.

[lennytheweedwhacker]

Whaddup

[spike]

gimme some skin

[tragabigzanda]

There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.