Tuesday, September 28, 2010

Dear Roving Band of Hipsters:

I've said it before, and I'll say it again, I really fucking hate hipsters. That might seem harsh, but more often than not, you guys are fucking annoying.  I could really go on and on, but here's what happened most recently.  I was waiting for the bus as I so often do, when suddenly all the cars disappeared and instead the street was filled with hundreds of fucking hipsters on goofy hipster bikes.  You know -- fixed gears, custom tandems, "Penny-farthings," and the always ridiculous homemade tall bikes.  Tons and tons of them.  In addition to your hipster bikes and tight jeans, a lot of you were also playing instruments while biking.  Usually the drums.  On a bike.  It was almost impressive.  You know, if I didn't hate you so much.  This went on for some time.  When your crazy band of misfits finally passed, there was a massive traffic jam behind you.  So nice of you to make already shitty city traffic even worse with your 12mph tour of the city.  Its not like any of us have to get on a bus and go anywhere or anything like that.  Shortly after this large group of flunkies left, my bus came.  I happily got on and grabbed a seat.  But before we could continue on, some fucking hipster who was apparently lagging behind his group careened into our bus and went flying off his bike and into the street.  This was actually more amusing than anything.  Although he probably deserved to get hit by a car, it would not have been funny if he did.  So fortunately he was fine and uninjured and all that.  Maybe he should get a real fucking bike, with gears and brakes and shit like that, and maybe that wouldn't have happened.  Also, if he can't keep up with a giant 200+ group of people riding slowly through the city, is he like an extra incompetent hipster?  Do even other hipsters shun him?  In any event, if I were the bus driver, I would have been bullshit.  He's really the one who was wronged here.  Not only was his route delayed because of the 2010 Hipster Bike Tour of Uselessness, but he probably has to file some accident paperwork for that idiot that ran into his bus.  Hipsters really are the worst.  

Wednesday, September 22, 2010

Dear Courier Service:

You people are always borderline inept at your job.  Today was no different.  I had several packages that needed to be delivered.  They were awkwardly sized and weighed about 10-15 pounds each.  I called up your lovely courier service to request a pickup.  I specifically told you that a bike messenger would not work.  I said I needed a car or a van to come pick the packages up.  I told you how many there were and how much they each weighed.  I told you all of this because in the past, you always send fucking bike messengers when its clearly too much shit for someone on a bike to carry.  I was assured that you would not be sending a bike over.  Who did you send over?  A fucking bike messenger.  He was kind of annoyed, but whatever.  Not my fault.  His fucking employer is an idiot.  A while later a new person came from your esteemed company.  Thankfully he had a car this time.  I showed him the packages that we needed delivered.  The very same packages I described in adequate detail over the phone so that the company knew how many and how heavy each were.  What did this guy do?  He fucking complained about how many packages there were and how he'd have to make two trips to his car.  Are you fucking serious?  You're a fucking courier.  This is your job.  What the fuck are you doing that you can't be bothered to make two fucking trips?  Again, this is your fucking job.  I ignored you and went about my usual work.  You stood there awkwardly in silence and dicked around on your phone for a while.  Apparently this was too awkward for my entirely too nice co-worker who then asked if you needed help.  Much to my complete shock and chagrin you said yes.  Yeah.  That happened.  You said you needed help carrying the packages to your fucking car, because god forbid you make two fucking trips.  Again, this is your fucking job.  Now, who do you think had to help you?  Of course it was me because my job can't get any better at the moment.  You tried making nice small talk with me on the way to your car, but I ignored you.  I could not believe this was actually happening.  At least you thanked me when we got to your car.  That would have been some shit if you were rude on top of being fucking lazy.  I hope you didn't strain yourself too much delivering those later, asshole.

Thursday, September 16, 2010

Dear Person Reading Newspaper:

Today I found a seat on the bus.  It's a rarity in the morning to get a seat and it's always a welcome sight.  I love a few extra minutes of shut eye when I can get them in the morning.  You, however, decided to make my morning nap a little more difficult.  What now?  Loud music?  Annoying cell phone chatter?  Inappropriate touching?  No.  None of the above.  Instead, you seemed completely oblivious to the person sitting next to you (i.e. me), and decided to open your newspaper as wide as possible as if you were relaxing on your couch Sunday morning.  Sure, this doesn't sound super terrible, but.. it kind of is.  Do you know how fucking small these seats are on the bus?  The width of the newspaper is practically the length of the two seats.  I don't want your fucking arm and half of newspaper in my personal space.  Your hand was seriously past the mid-point of my torso.  I had a much easier time reading that side of the paper than you did.  Maybe you wanted me to read the paper with you.  (That would be weird.  Nice, I guess, but still pretty weird.)  Or maybe you didn't think you were that close to me.  (We're practically in each other's laps as it on the fucking bus.)  Or... I don't know.  You people on my morning commute are fucking killing me with your bizarre behavior.  I barely even have the energy to be annoyed with you anymore.  I mean, honestly?  You can't even read the fucking newspaper without being obnoxious?  I give up.

Monday, September 13, 2010

Retro Wronging -- Dear Person Who Dropped a Glass On My Foot:

I was out at a bar, having a good time with some friends.  It wasn't my favorite bar.  In fact, it was one of my least favorite bars.  You know, one that blasts shitty poppy "dance" music that I don't like and will certainly not be dancing to.  In any event, it was crowded.  People were drinking.  Normal bar scene stuff.  You come flying through the crowd and run into me, spilling my beer all over me in the process.  This is already annoying, but before I can actually be annoyed about that, you drop your glass right on my foot.  This wouldn't have been the worst thing in the world except for two things:  1)  It was the summertime, so I was wearing sandals; and 2) the fucking glass broke.  It fucking shattered all over the place.  So now I'm covered in beer, my foot hurts, and there's shattered glass all over the floor.  I bend down to try and corral the broken glass and I realize I'm fucking bleeding.  There are shards of glass all over my foot and sandals and my toes are pretty cut up.  Awesome.  Here's the point where I would expect a normal, rational human being to either apologize, or help try to clean up, or both.  What do you do instead?  You look me dead in the eye and in your best bitch voice say, "Are you going to buy me another drink or what?"  Excuse me?  No.  Fuck no.  I am not buying you a drink after you just fucking spilled my beer and caused me physical harm.  In what world are you living in that you think I'm somehow responsible for your fucking drunken stagger across the bar square into me?  Furthermore, how do you not even pretend to apologize for making me bleed.  Even after informing you that, no, I was definitely not buying you a drink, you stood around awkwardly giving me a dirty look like that was somehow going to change my mind.  Grow up and learn some fucking manners.  

[Editor's Note:  This incident occurred about 4-5 years ago.  Yes, I still hold a grudge.  Why?  Well, how often do people fucking shatter glasses on you in public?]

Wednesday, September 8, 2010

Dear Police Officer:

I'm usually pretty distrustful of the police for a number of reasons and assholes like do you not help change my mind in that regard at all.  I was driving around with a friend looking for a parking space on the street.  You were parked in your big Paddy Wagon with your engine still running.  It looked like you may have been on your way out shortly.  So we pulled up next to you and asked if you were leaving the spot soon.  You gave us a dirty look like it was clear you were either too busy or too important to talk to us.  After staring blankly at us and waiting a few seconds to respond, you said no in a completely condescending and dismissive tone.  Disappointed (and annoyed) we continued on down the street.  Already you've wronged me for being a douchebag for no reason, but there's more.  About half a block down, we thought we found a spot, but sadly we couldn't fit into the space.  As we were trying to maneuver our way into the spot, you and your fucking Paddy Wagon come cruising down the street.  Like 8 fucking seconds after you said you weren't leaving the spot.  To really add insult to injury, as you and your partner drive by, you look at us, and you start to fucking laugh.  What. The. Fuck.  I can't comprehend why you would a) be a giant dick to us for asking a perfectly normal question; b) lie about when you were leaving the spot; and then c) fucking laugh at us as you drive by.  There is absolutely no other possible explanation for this behavior other than that you're a giant fucking asshole.  Naturally, by the time we backtracked to where you were parked, someone else had taken the spot.  Thanks a lot, Mr. Asshole Police Officer.  Way to make members of the community feel like the police have their best interests at heart.

Monday, September 6, 2010

Update and New Features (maybe?)

Apparently all the good will from people coming to my blog from Sassy's blog has made me generally less crabby and therefore I haven't really been wronged this week.  Not being wronged makes writing a blog about being wronged kind of difficult.

In any event, I've decided to do two things.

1)  I'm starting a new periodic feature (i.e. when I have nothing to write about), called "Retro-Wrongings." As the name suggests, Retro-Wrongings will be about shit that happened to me in the past that I still inexplicably hold a grudge about.  Weird?  Maybe.  Warranted? Probably not.  Amusing?  Hopefully.

2)  Someone recently suggested having an "Air Your Grievances" Day.  Not a terrible idea.  So, in case anyone has felt particularly wronged and would like to submit an angry, irrational letter about it, please feel free to e-mail me at wrongedmetoday (at) gmail.com.  Maybe I'll put it up.