Take it personally, if you must.


More reasonable things can be found at: Spontaneous Compendium

Miss You

Just popping in to remind you all that I hate you.  Fuck you.

Very rarely do I get the chance to hate something or someone so intensely, and see that hatred satisfied by the justice system.  This is an exciting day!  Story time:

So this guy meets my little brother via phone in Fall/Winter 2011 (on some horrendous gay hookup app called Grindr…my sweet brother of course has no idea it’s not just gay Facebook at this point).  He says he’s 18, the same age as my brother.  They decide to hang out, our man picks my brother up at home (?!) and they go out to dinner.  Or coffee, or something…Anyway, the evening goes on, he’s apparently very interesting and intense, blah blah.  At some point it’s made very clear that Mr. Smooth is in for much more than first date appropriate activity.  His wishes are not granted, so he takes John (brother) home…and doesn’t call him for a few days.

Young cub tells older-younger brother (we’ll call him Pat, because that’s his name) and yours truly about the guy. Sympathy is expressed and we suggest he maybe not hang out with people he meets on Grindr, or anything else that sounds like filthy alley rape. 

Later, John informs Pat that he actually “is a friend of yours.”  It gets good from here, even with my shoddy narration.

I get a phone call from a very angry brother Pat.  He is usually angry anyway, but he was pretty fired up about whatever it was he wanted to talk about.  Turns out that guy John was hanging out with is actually 25, and is a total creep.  He used to hang out with Pat’s friend Josh a couple years back, so Pat would ran into him occasionally at Josh’s house.  I am informed that Josh stopped hanging out with him when he started bringing around high school-aged kids and it was found out that he’d lied to them about his age.  Apparently around this time he ran into some trouble with a few parents of these kids, and was confronted by some of Pat’s friends.  He changed his last name once or twice, but stayed in the area, unbeknownst to older-younger brother or any of his friends, until now. 

Pat is talking to me from the warpath.  He has found out where the guy might work and his headed over to find him.  I tell him to call me if anything happens and hang up…so I may call John and exercise my older sister duty…to lecture heavily about the safety of internet socializing and the common sense necessary for rape/kidnapping/disembowelment-free life.

The dude is not at his supposed job, and though we both would love to find and chat with (murder) him, there’s not much we can do.  John is of legal age and nothing illegal happened in this particular case, so we don’t see going to the police as super realistic.  So nothing really happens from here…

…until today, when Pat posts a link on Facebook to a Napa newspaper article, stating that THIS MOTHERFUCKER (see photo), the same guy that tried to lie his way into the pants of my baby brother, has been arrested for having sexual relations with three teenage boys between the areas of Napa and Elk Grove.  It’s been asked that anyone with additional information contact the Napa County Sheriff’s office.  I am sincerely hoping Santa Cruz gets the memo and that anyone this asshole has affected will contribute to the shit monsoon he deserves.

You can read the article here, please do.

Dear Mr. Lopez,
You are so happy you did not lay a finger on my brother.  You have been allowed to keep your life because of that fact.  Still, I will risk all my good karma, hoping with all my might that your pretty face and the way your waify frame barely holds up an orange jumpsuit attract some serious attention in prison…and that you are raped with a shiv.  I can’t wait to see the debut of your inescapable shame on Megan’s Law.  FUCK. YOU.
Kisses,
Me.

Very rarely do I get the chance to hate something or someone so intensely, and see that hatred satisfied by the justice system.  This is an exciting day!  Story time:

So this guy meets my little brother via phone in Fall/Winter 2011 (on some horrendous gay hookup app called Grindr…my sweet brother of course has no idea it’s not just gay Facebook at this point).  He says he’s 18, the same age as my brother.  They decide to hang out, our man picks my brother up at home (?!) and they go out to dinner.  Or coffee, or something…Anyway, the evening goes on, he’s apparently very interesting and intense, blah blah.  At some point it’s made very clear that Mr. Smooth is in for much more than first date appropriate activity.  His wishes are not granted, so he takes John (brother) home…and doesn’t call him for a few days.

Young cub tells older-younger brother (we’ll call him Pat, because that’s his name) and yours truly about the guy. Sympathy is expressed and we suggest he maybe not hang out with people he meets on Grindr, or anything else that sounds like filthy alley rape. 

Later, John informs Pat that he actually “is a friend of yours.”  It gets good from here, even with my shoddy narration.

I get a phone call from a very angry brother Pat.  He is usually angry anyway, but he was pretty fired up about whatever it was he wanted to talk about.  Turns out that guy John was hanging out with is actually 25, and is a total creep.  He used to hang out with Pat’s friend Josh a couple years back, so Pat would ran into him occasionally at Josh’s house.  I am informed that Josh stopped hanging out with him when he started bringing around high school-aged kids and it was found out that he’d lied to them about his age.  Apparently around this time he ran into some trouble with a few parents of these kids, and was confronted by some of Pat’s friends.  He changed his last name once or twice, but stayed in the area, unbeknownst to older-younger brother or any of his friends, until now. 

Pat is talking to me from the warpath.  He has found out where the guy might work and his headed over to find him.  I tell him to call me if anything happens and hang up…so I may call John and exercise my older sister duty…to lecture heavily about the safety of internet socializing and the common sense necessary for rape/kidnapping/disembowelment-free life.

The dude is not at his supposed job, and though we both would love to find and chat with (murder) him, there’s not much we can do.  John is of legal age and nothing illegal happened in this particular case, so we don’t see going to the police as super realistic.  So nothing really happens from here…

…until today, when Pat posts a link on Facebook to a Napa newspaper article, stating that THIS MOTHERFUCKER (see photo), the same guy that tried to lie his way into the pants of my baby brother, has been arrested for having sexual relations with three teenage boys between the areas of Napa and Elk Grove.  It’s been asked that anyone with additional information contact the Napa County Sheriff’s office.  I am sincerely hoping Santa Cruz gets the memo and that anyone this asshole has affected will contribute to the shit monsoon he deserves.

You can read the article here, please do.

Dear Mr. Lopez,

You are so happy you did not lay a finger on my brother.  You have been allowed to keep your life because of that fact.  Still, I will risk all my good karma, hoping with all my might that your pretty face and the way your waify frame barely holds up an orange jumpsuit attract some serious attention in prison…and that you are raped with a shiv.  I can’t wait to see the debut of your inescapable shame on Megan’s Law.  FUCK. YOU.

Kisses,

Me.

I was the most clever person in the world when I came up with the title “Elephantom”…then I found out it’s this band.  Naturally, I am going to hate them forever without ever listening to them.  Their music will be crap until I die.

I was the most clever person in the world when I came up with the title “Elephantom”…then I found out it’s this band.  Naturally, I am going to hate them forever without ever listening to them.  Their music will be crap until I die.

But you won’t let me shop online!  Kindly spit out my proverbial dick so I can slap you with it.

But you won’t let me shop online!  Kindly spit out my proverbial dick so I can slap you with it.

Dearest Santa Cruz “Occupiers” (Bored, Homeless Assholes),
You are a fucking embarrassment.  If you are going to camp out in and destroy a perfectly nice park, and shit and piss (in piles) all over downtown, how about you at least SPELL YOUR FUCKING MISSION STATEMENT CORRECTLY.  I understand the man is getting you down, but the fact that you cannot spell does not instill confidence in your ability to read any information on the “evil” you are working so fervently to defeat.  Also, stop coming into my place of work asking me for money, acting like it’s for anything other than buying more booze and Cheetos to share with your malnourished dog.  Fuck. Off.
Kisses,
The 99%

Dearest Santa Cruz “Occupiers” (Bored, Homeless Assholes),

You are a fucking embarrassment.  If you are going to camp out in and destroy a perfectly nice park, and shit and piss (in piles) all over downtown, how about you at least SPELL YOUR FUCKING MISSION STATEMENT CORRECTLY.  I understand the man is getting you down, but the fact that you cannot spell does not instill confidence in your ability to read any information on the “evil” you are working so fervently to defeat.  Also, stop coming into my place of work asking me for money, acting like it’s for anything other than buying more booze and Cheetos to share with your malnourished dog.  Fuck. Off.

Kisses,

The 99%

How stupid do you have to be?  More on this another time.

How stupid do you have to be?  More on this another time.

Fuck you too, Madonna. Tell your arms to calm down.

Fuck you too, Madonna. Tell your arms to calm down.

I am convinced studies will later show that maraschino cherries cause cancer.  Please stop putting these in my drinks.  I have seen so many bartenders, elbow deep, fishing at the bottom of an economy-sized barrel of red syrup for that little garnish…I can’t even see one without thinking about those fingers, searching and reaching for the soggy little bastard. No thank you.

I am convinced studies will later show that maraschino cherries cause cancer.  Please stop putting these in my drinks.  I have seen so many bartenders, elbow deep, fishing at the bottom of an economy-sized barrel of red syrup for that little garnish…I can’t even see one without thinking about those fingers, searching and reaching for the soggy little bastard. No thank you.

In Pursuit

Some total douche is always walking around my neighborhood and the greater Downtown Santa Cruz area, wearing running shorts, gecko shoes and a bandana…yes, that’s it.  Every time I see him, I try to get out my phone to take a photo so I can post it and share my hatred.  I always fall about three seconds short.  I even ran down and out of my house an hour or so ago to get just ONE shot of this guy when I caw him crossing the street from my window.  In my frantic attempt at discretion, I dove (fell) behind a parked car (which had people in it) and my shitty slow phone took a picture of what I can only assume were my mid-tumble breasts.

I’ll catch him one day.  I will.

Yes, I do realize I live in a vacation hotspot.  Yes, I do expect that I will have to put up with a significantly larger number of douche bags from June to September every year.  NO, I will never be able to adjust to the absolutely sickening amount of beach traffic that ruins my life every Summer.  Can we get these people a separate freeway?
I sort of hate the beach anyway.  Sand is awful, and too many morons burn wood pallets or dispose of broken crack pipes down there for me to ever be comfortable walking around barefoot.  The cliffs can be very pretty, and when I do force myself to exercise, I enjoy walking to the shore and then up on the cliffs (provided no sand ever touches my person)…but Summer just makes me want to live in a cave and tear out my eardrums so I don’t have to hear the screams of joy from all the fucking idiots at the Santa Cruz Boardwalk that are hogging up the freeways and parking spaces in my sacred place of work and life.
Basically, if you like Summer and you want to come down here and play on the beach in the nice hot sun…you can eat a wang.

Yes, I do realize I live in a vacation hotspot.  Yes, I do expect that I will have to put up with a significantly larger number of douche bags from June to September every year.  NO, I will never be able to adjust to the absolutely sickening amount of beach traffic that ruins my life every Summer.  Can we get these people a separate freeway?

I sort of hate the beach anyway.  Sand is awful, and too many morons burn wood pallets or dispose of broken crack pipes down there for me to ever be comfortable walking around barefoot.  The cliffs can be very pretty, and when I do force myself to exercise, I enjoy walking to the shore and then up on the cliffs (provided no sand ever touches my person)…but Summer just makes me want to live in a cave and tear out my eardrums so I don’t have to hear the screams of joy from all the fucking idiots at the Santa Cruz Boardwalk that are hogging up the freeways and parking spaces in my sacred place of work and life.

Basically, if you like Summer and you want to come down here and play on the beach in the nice hot sun…you can eat a wang.

"I Actually Have A CD Coming Out…"

This total ass is walking around the shop with one of his earbuds in, singing some song he claims he wrote.  I know he claims to have written the song he is singing, because he’s following this chick around, telling her all about it.  Apparently an album is in the works and expected to have a HUGE debut in September.  “People reconize I’m doin’ my own thang, that I’m supm real, you know?  That’s why they so ready to pay me big money.”  At first, I decided to try and keep myself from judging, because the possibility of him being mentally disabled seemed too likely.  Upon further observation, though, I have come to realize that he’s just a complete douche. Don’t we have enough shitty R & B singers roaming around?  Isn’t James Durbin enough dumbfuck “talent” for Santa Cruz to export in one year?  If you want to bag that lady, maybe talk about something other than your ridiculous ego.  OH. Oh.  Our guy is now downstairs, singing in some sort of falsetto that sounds like, “When I open my ass…”  Eyes?  Maybe he means ass.  Probably.  What do you think the world sees when he opens his ass?  Is it the answer to all our questions about the universe?  We’ll have to wait and see.  In September.  When his album makes its huge debut.

James Durbin might be my next post.

If you’re going to charge me $11.00 for a drink at your shitty bar, it had better not be given to me in one of these.  No, it does not help if your garnish it with maraschino cherries and golden angel turds.  You are a tacky-ass motherfucker if you think this is acceptable.

If you’re going to charge me $11.00 for a drink at your shitty bar, it had better not be given to me in one of these.  No, it does not help if your garnish it with maraschino cherries and golden angel turds.  You are a tacky-ass motherfucker if you think this is acceptable.

Was boxed macaroni and cheese not easy enough? Now you can have your Kraft barftastic product in a microwave “safe” container, and eat your way closer to type 2 diabetes after just adding water and waiting 3.5 minutes for the radiation to turn those little pasta noodles into mush!  This would save time, but you’ll spend 5 minutes trying to recover from the heart trauma induced my consuming liquid plastic on your lunch break…roughly equal to the time you’d have to wait for water to boil.
And if it wasn’t icky enough, now you can have Kraft Easy Mac, with  bacon-flavored bacon!  This is the bacon description from the  package: 
BACON BITS WITH ADDED HICKORY SMOKE FLAVOR [BACON (CURED WITH WATER,  CONTAINS LESS THAN 2% OF SALT, SUGAR, SODIUM PHOSPHATES, SODIUM  ERYTHORBATE [MADE FROM SUGAR], SODIUM NITRITE), SMOKE FLAVOR]
Oh good, smoke flavor!  Nevermind that “liquid smoke” is considered to be mildly genotoxic, we want that shit to taste like real, home-fried bacon!

Was boxed macaroni and cheese not easy enough? Now you can have your Kraft barftastic product in a microwave “safe” container, and eat your way closer to type 2 diabetes after just adding water and waiting 3.5 minutes for the radiation to turn those little pasta noodles into mush!  This would save time, but you’ll spend 5 minutes trying to recover from the heart trauma induced my consuming liquid plastic on your lunch break…roughly equal to the time you’d have to wait for water to boil.

And if it wasn’t icky enough, now you can have Kraft Easy Mac, with bacon-flavored bacon!  This is the bacon description from the package: 

BACON BITS WITH ADDED HICKORY SMOKE FLAVOR [BACON (CURED WITH WATER, CONTAINS LESS THAN 2% OF SALT, SUGAR, SODIUM PHOSPHATES, SODIUM ERYTHORBATE [MADE FROM SUGAR], SODIUM NITRITE), SMOKE FLAVOR]

Oh good, smoke flavor!  Nevermind that “liquid smoke” is considered to be mildly genotoxic, we want that shit to taste like real, home-fried bacon!

Although this bottle is shaped like a triceratops, which is one of my favorite not-real dinosaurs (poor guy), it is full of ketchup, so it sucks.  People always say stupid shit to me like, “You like tomatoes, why don’t you like ketchup?  It’s the same thing.”  These people are morons, because tomatoes are delicious, refreshing, and go great with cheese, while ketchup is more repulsive than the inbred baby born at the beginning of the X-Files episode titled “Home”…oh you know…the episode that aired once before being banned from cable TV?  Ketchup is easily as gross as that baby plus five times how gross it is when the kid playing baseball the next day discovers the dead baby body by accidentally stomping it and all the blood squishes up onto his shoes.

Yes, it’s appalling.  No, I don’t feel bad for making you think about dead inbred babies being stepped on.

Although this bottle is shaped like a triceratops, which is one of my favorite not-real dinosaurs (poor guy), it is full of ketchup, so it sucks.  People always say stupid shit to me like, “You like tomatoes, why don’t you like ketchup?  It’s the same thing.”  These people are morons, because tomatoes are delicious, refreshing, and go great with cheese, while ketchup is more repulsive than the inbred baby born at the beginning of the X-Files episode titled “Home”…oh you know…the episode that aired once before being banned from cable TV?  Ketchup is easily as gross as that baby plus five times how gross it is when the kid playing baseball the next day discovers the dead baby body by accidentally stomping it and all the blood squishes up onto his shoes.

Yes, it’s appalling.  No, I don’t feel bad for making you think about dead inbred babies being stepped on.

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