Things you have an irrational hatred of

[Bammer]

I hate when I'm looking for a greeting card and there happens to be a person in the aisle standing directly in front of the card that I want to reach at and grab and look at. But the person just continues to stand there like an asshole and not move.

asshole

Same thing when I’m trying to grab a damn salad at Trader Joe’s. Move it!

[Ms Harmless]

the false dichotomy of "based" and "cringe"

[Jorge]

I hate when I'm looking for a greeting card and there happens to be a person in the aisle standing directly in front of the card that I want to reach at and grab and look at. But the person just continues to stand there like an asshole and not move.

asshole

Same thing when I’m trying to grab a damn salad at Trader Joe’s. Move it!

And shopping for records. And books

[Higgs]

Posts that I am either too woke or not woke enough to understand.

[Jorge]

Posts that I am either too woke or not woke enough to understand.

Like which ones

[Higgs]

Posts that I am either too woke or not woke enough to understand.

Like which ones

Not falling for your shit stirring Farrah.

[Jorge]

Posts that I am either too woke or not woke enough to understand.

Like which ones

Not falling for your shit stirring Farrah.

You're the one stirring shit with your vagueposting bitch!

[Ello Sailor]

Why are you being so weird and aggressive about this?

[Higgs]

He's right though, I am a vague posting bitch. I've driven a long way today and had a few beers to celebrate getting here. I am hella vague right now.

[Jorge]

He's right though, I am a vague posting bitch. I've driven a long way today and had a few beers to celebrate getting here. I am hella vague right now.

In vino veritas

Tell me what the wokeposts are

[Higgs]

http://forums.theskyiscrape.com/viewtop ... 59&t=18430

[Jorge]

[Higgs]

Quite happy that I could decipher the in vino veritas Latin too.

I learned something else Latin related this trip too. I always thought "Nullabor" was an aboriginal word, but now know it is actilually Nullarbor and is Latin and literally means no trees.

:manuelgif:

[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.

[knee tunes]

I hate when I'm in a aisle with greeting cards picking out a whatever card, and somebody comes up behind me and is breathing down my neck , looking in the very direction at the same nine or 13 cards that I'm looking out. Why?

Happy Whatever Day

Happy Whatever, Whoever!

(Don't let Hallmark see this)

[Bammer]

This. I hate it so much.

[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.

[Bammer]

This. I hate it so much.

lol what channel of the matrix are you in that you have to worry about this?

I hate it.

This is one of the things I have an irrational hatred of.

[The Argonaut]

I kind of resent when gmail is very good at predicting what the second half of my sentence is going to be. It makes me feel like I'm writing in cliches and don't have a unique personality. I just typed "I hope the snow today " and gmail suggested exactly what I was planning to write next: "isn't causing you too much trouble." But I had thought hard about what I wanted to say, and all I could come up with seems to be exactly what everyone else is saying. I am boring!

[bodysnatcher]

This. I hate it so much.

Me too bammer. I was just talking to someone at work about this last week