Pepperidge Farm remembers!

As you may tell from some of my other blogs, I have the ability to rant. And rant. And rant. I consider it something of a superpower, a gift, and a curse all rolled into one. I try to use it wisely, but I have moments….okay, days….okay, weeks…where it’s used for anything and everything that irritates me.

Enter my exposure to the “Pepperidge Farm Remembers” meme. It cracked me up. And since I’m in a foul mood, it’s time for a rant, Oppa Pepperidge Style.

Do you remember:
When people used to be polite to each other?
When people didn’t have their head rammed so far up their phone’s ass they avoided getting run over by cars?
When we held politicians to a higher moral standard than celebrities?
When politicians actually did their fucking job and represented the interests of the people?
When the MTA actually ran a fucking train on time?
When the MTA did actual repair work on time and under budget?
When your job paid you what you’re REALLY worth?
When people used phones to……GASP…make actual phone calls?
When AOL was all the rage?
When ISPs didn’t throttle your service to get more money out of you?
When Nazis were people you stomped out on sight?
When charter schools were seen as the utter shit they are?
When we had a president that wasn’t a complete fucking retard that needs to be thrown out of office now?
When Congress didn’t spend millions on a bullshit investigation into embassy attacks to cover up the fact they voted to cut the embassy budget 2 years in a row, hence being directly responsible for the entire mess?
When Cabinet appointees were actually…shudder…qualified for the positions they were nominated for?
When it dawned on people that saving the environment was important?
When people didn’t take opioids like they’re going out of style?
When owning a gun meant you were a responsible gun owner and not some random asshole who got it at a gun show because he or she could?
When “No” actually meant “No” and not some imaginary bullshit that meant the opposite?
When a high school diploma got you a job that could support a family and buy a house?
When people realized the danger of credit cards and didn’t use them as much?
When singers actually wrote their own songs with real, understandable lyrics?
When music wasn’t all just pop garbage spewed out to make money?
When being part of a family owned company meant you felt like a part of their family, and vice versa?
When the government at least made the fa├žade of an attempt to respect the rights of Native Americans and the land they were forced onto?
When banks helped you save money for the future and not hit you with fees for every fucking thing?

Pepperidge Farm remembers.

I can keep going, but I think you get the picture.

Advertisements

How NOT to date.

I was having a bad day today. Sad, depressed, tired, not wanting to get out of bed. Life for me has been rough for a while, and I’m not sure there’s an end for it in sight. But I push on, because that’s what I do. That’s what I have to do.

Then I looked at my phone.

Remember her? I do. And looking at my phone managed to enrage me. And if there’s one thing I know about me, once I’m angry, I gotta let it out. And here we are.

This past Friday, I decided to meet up with some friends and hit up the bar I go to for karaoke. As I’m waiting for the bus (and a colossal, Brooklyn inspired FUCK YOU to the MTA for being one of the biggest bunch of incompetent retards on the planet), she texts me. She claims that she no showed on me because her boss dumped 2 months of budgets on her for an 8AM meeting the next day. Allegedly, she left the office at 10 and didn’t stop working from home until 3AM. She also says she was so mad she threw her phone and cracked it.

Riiiiiight. I don’t believe a fucking word of what she’s saying. There was absolutely no excuse for her not to contact me before she supposedly got that mad at her job.

She then proceeds to apologize and uses her job as an excuse.

Really? You knew full well before we made these plans exactly how busy your job could be. This type of thing happening was not a surprise to you. You knew this could occur, but did you adjust for it? Did you decide to wait until the immediate craziness passed and things were at a less hectic level to try to meet up? Nope. You didn’t. You went full ahead and ignored the facts about your situation. Smart, real smart.

She then proceeds to complain how she didn’t even have time to doll herself up. Which I DON’T GIVE A FUCK ABOUT. You’re coming from work. I don’t expect you to look like you spent 3 hours on hair and makeup. I expect you to SHOW UP. I’m not going to critique your makeup and hair after work. I have no fashion sense. As long as you’re not wearing rags and don’t look like you went 10 rounds with Mike Tyson, it’s all good.

I have no interest in a 3 hour text conversation, so I call her. Goes to voicemail. She texts me that her phone’s earpiece can’t pick up voices so she can’t hear anyone that calls her. She says she’s going the next day to get her phone fixed. I tell her to call me after the phone is fixed. She says she will and thanks me for hearing her out.

That was Friday. Haven’t heard from her since. I’m not sure I will. And you know what? I just don’t care. she didn’t have the common sense to do things properly, to take into account the situation that is her life, and royally fucked up. Fuck this bullshit.

SHIT LIKE THIS IS WHY PEOPLE STAY SINGLE. If you want to meet up with someone, do the exact opposite of what she did and you’re golden.

Fucking bullshit.