The Isolated Blurt BDSM Thread

[Curious_in_Cali]

I'm pretty sure you don't really want to know. But in the event that you do, I strongly suggest trading some massage time for the work of a chemical engineer (ideally one who is well versed in the various uses of petrochemicals) to help you understand the ingredients.

Oh man, if only I knew someone like that.

Shucks.

 

[midwestyankee]

This afternoon as I backed out of my parking space at the grocery store, I found myself stuck behind a white Mercedes SUV that appeared to be waiting for an open parking space. Except that there WAS an open space directly in front of this car. But there was ALSO a driver about to back out of a space that was two whole car slots closer to the store.

Musta been the wife of that db in the Very Serious Problem thread.

 

[BiBunny]

The conversations about weight and illness that are going on in the douchebag thread are actually quite interesting. I wish we could have that discussion in its own thread. I think it'd be fascinating.

 

[graceanne]

The conversations about weight and illness that are going on in the douchebag thread are actually quite interesting. I wish we could have that discussion in its own thread. I think it'd be fascinating.

It wouldn't matter, as everytime we try to some skinny person comes in and tell us we're just lazy and need to cut calories and everyone gets pissed off.

Without. Fail.

 

[Loverskitten]

I wish y'all would stop posting to that thread entirely. Now that would drive him crazy.

 

[graceanne]

I wish y'all would stop posting to that thread entirely. Now that would drive him crazy.

I'm a tad bit worried about driving him crazy. Er.

 

[BiBunny]

It wouldn't matter, as everytime we try to some skinny person comes in and tell us we're just lazy and need to cut calories and everyone gets pissed off.

Without. Fail.

I was kinda thinking it should be done after that thread dies down.

 

[blulilacgrl]

I was kinda thinking it should be done after that thread dies down.

[laughs] Netzach put the verbal smackdown on it. If it isn't dead yet, it's at least flopping on the floor gasping for air.

 

[the captians wench]

I really hate unsewing and resewing. Missed my mark by half an inch or so.

And just had to correct "so" because I typed "sew" first.

 

[Sir_Winston54]

*That* thread in Talk... every time I look, the post count goes up, despite all the people who say they're *not* going to post there any more. I'm not even *reading* the damn thing any more. Come on, people, quit feeding the troll!

 

[gypsy*seer]

Come on, people..... if you don't have a part number or a model number, how the hell do you expect me to look up a part for you? Asking "Do you have this solenoid?", then thrusting it in my face isn't going to do you a whole world of good, now is it?

Come on, technicians...I can't be there to wipe your butt for you, too! (Even if you DID find it with both hands!)

fuck.

 

[Sweetdaisymae]

Wow did I misjudge you, and I am sorry!

 

[CutieMouse]

I'm in the process of saying goodbye to clients who have been with me for years... every time I go into work, there are people saying "OMG is it true?" "What are we going to do, now?" "Are you going to be okay? What are you going to do?" "I'm just devastated. As soon as I heard I called ___, ___, ___... No one else does what you do. How can they take you away from us?"

I go to work; I stay strong for 8-12 hours at a time. I stay professional. I stay positive. I deflect anger. I deflect hurt. I tell everyone it will be fine.

Closing a store isn't exhausting; all I have to do is logic my way through the necessary decisions to do things as graciously as possible. What's exhausting, is consoling my clients. Trying to find a way to prevent them from feeling abandoned. Dealing with their worry, on top of my own. After a full day of it, there isn't anything left for anything else.

 

[Sir_Winston54]

I'm in the process of saying goodbye to clients who have been with me for years... every time I go into work, there are people saying "OMG is it true?" "What are we going to do, now?" "Are you going to be okay? What are you going to do?" "I'm just devastated. As soon as I heard I called ___, ___, ___... No one else does what you do. How can they take you away from us?"

I go to work; I stay strong for 8-12 hours at a time. I stay professional. I stay positive. I deflect anger. I deflect hurt. I tell everyone it will be fine.

Closing a store isn't exhausting; all I have to do is logic my way through the necessary decisions to do things as graciously as possible. What's exhausting, is consoling my clients. Trying to find a way to prevent them from feeling abandoned. Dealing with their worry, on top of my own. After a full day of it, there isn't anything left for anything else.

I know pixels aren't warm, but they're all I have to offer from this far away:

{{{{{Mouse}}}}}​

 

[BiBunny]

*Sigh* Still no meds.

FML.

 

[gypsy*seer]

Lesson learned

Don't "wet willy" your 75 year old mother while she has her hearing aids in....

 

[BiBunny]

So I nearly had to whip a scrawny redneck's ass at Subway a few minutes ago. WTF, Alabama?

 

[graceanne]

So I nearly had to whip a scrawny redneck's ass at Subway a few minutes ago. WTF, Alabama?

Tell them the rest.

Of course, this might need to go in the 'what made you laugh thread', cause I"m still laughing.

 

[BiBunny]

Tell them the rest.

Of course, this might need to go in the 'what made you laugh thread', cause I"m still laughing.

I'll give the full version here, rather than the sort of abbreviated one I put on FB.


Ok, so I went to Subway. It's cheap, I'm broke, and there was nothing I really wanted to eat in the house. Subway's like 3 minutes from my house, so I thought why not?

Ok, go to Subway. As I'm walking into the joint, there are these three men in the parking lot. One's an ugly, scrawny fuck in his early 20s, one's a middle-aged fat dude, and the other one is grandpa old. They start giggling as I walk by, but I just ignore it because they could be laughing at something that has absolutely nothing to do with me, right?

I go inside. The Subway near my house is not a full restaurant; it's just the sandwich bar inside a gas station. It's nearly always crowded, and because it's in a gas station, there's not much room. There's a line ahead of me, so I basically have to stand right at the trash can beside the door to get in the line because there's nowhere else to go. These jackasses come in the door (which I am standing right next to), and the young one makes a huge deal out making a WIIIIIIDE circle around me. Ok, whatever, you're an idiot.

Then, he's all "Well, I guess I have to go wayyyy back here, haha!" I ignore again. Then, I hear mooing sounds coming from behind me and the sound of grown men giggling. I roll my eyes, but continue ignoring because, well, I'm off my meds and know I don't need to get into a confrontation.

The line moves fast, so when I get up to the sandwich bar thing, I place my order. Ham on wheat, no cheese, lots of veggies. As the lady is making my sandwich, this creepy fucker is watching and saying, "What is that? WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?!?!?!" in this loud stage whisper every time she puts another veggie on the bread. Lettuce. Tomato. Spinach. Cucumber. Pickles. Black Olives. It gets louder with each one she adds.

I stop what I'm doing and turn to give them the "You're a dumbass" look. All three of them see me do it, so you'd think at least one of them would've known to tell the kid to STFU. He stops talking, but there's more giggling.

I turn back around, and when the lady finishes my sandwich, I pay for it and head out. I have to walk between the kid and the grandpa old man to get out the door, so I say, "Excuse me."

Right as I pass by, the kid makes a big show of flattening himself against the bar (because I'm so fat, you see) and says, "Essscusssse me" in this falsetto like he's mocking me. I've got my hand on the door, but I turn around and just look at him.

He goes "What?"

I still don't say anything. I just stare at him, waiting for him to open his mouth and say something else stupid. I am not disappointed.

"What? I said, 'Scusme.' It's Spanish for 'Excuse me'."

I raise an eyebrow because, first of all, I'm shocked that neither of the old men stopped him, and secondly, I can't believe that he's going to pretend like he hasn't been making fun of me the whole fucking time.

I get this kind of strange half-smile on my face, which I always get when I'm trying not to beat the fuck out of someone and say, "Ok, number one, no, that is not Spanish. Spanish would be 'Disculpe' or 'Perdón.' Number two, you're kind of obnoxious."

Rather than either manning up and admitting that he's being a douchebag or doing the intelligent thing and shutting the hell up, he goes, "What?" which totally just makes me lose my shit.

So I continue, "Number three, the only--and I do mean the ONLY--time that you have the right to say anything about what someone else is ordering or eating is when you're paying for it. And number four, I know you think you're cute, but if you keep talking shit like that, one day, you'll run across the wrong one and end up toting an ass-whipping." I pause and grin what is probably a crazed-looking grin. "Is tonight gonna be that night?"

In my head, I'm thinking Say 'what' to me one more time, you dumb sonofabitch. But, of course, when properly called out on his idiocy, he says nothing because all people like that are chicken shits at heart. Which is too bad, really, because I was already having visions of grabbing him up by the hair of his head and slamming his face through the glass of the sandwich bar while screaming, "THAT RIGHT THERE IS SPINACH, MOTHERFUCKER!!!!!"

Nobody says another word, so I walk to my truck in peace. I suppose I was supposed to go home and cry because some buck-toothed redneck said I was fat? Pfft. Not in this lifetime.

The moral of the story is: Don't talk shit loudly enough that you can be heard by the person you're talking about. You never know when that person might be a crazy fat redneck bitch who's off her meds.

 

[Sir_Winston54]

I'll give the full version here, rather than the sort of abbreviated one I put on FB.

....

The moral of the story is: Don't talk shit loudly enough that you can be heard by the person you're talking about. You never know when that person might be a crazy fat redneck bitch who's off her meds.

Yet another reason I love my namesake...

 

[BiBunny]

Yet another reason I love my namesake...

Aww, I love you, too, namesake.

 

[graceanne]

.
.
.

Which is too bad, really, because I was already having visions of grabbing him up by the hair of his head and slamming his face through the glass of the sandwich bar while screaming, "THAT RIGHT THERE IS SPINACH, MOTHERFUCKER!!!!!"

This is my favorite part of the story. ROFLMAO

 

[Ropebunny]

BiBunny, you are my hero




I am slightly dissapointed that that asswipe didn't get his face broken by you. He really would have deserved it.

 

[gypsy*seer]

"The moral of the story is: Don't talk shit loudly enough that you can be heard by the person you're talking about. You never know when that person might be a crazy fat redneck bitch who's off her meds."

Bunny...if you ever need an ass-kicking, ball-busting, Yankee sidekick, I'd definitely apply! You rock, sista!

 

[cfuhrer]

This is my favorite part of the story. ROFLMAO

Can't you just see it?

"Spinach" BAM
"Onions" BAM
"Olives" BAM
"Tomatoes" BAM

And a neat little row of head sized divots down the whole bar.