Stupid people that have jobs
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From: Chandler, AZ
Update with more stupid people: I am on the phone with Qwest trying to figure out some 6 month old bill they just sent me and this black chick I am speaking with says "Hode on a moment, I am going to sented you to billing". WTF is sented? Grrrrr.... Been on the phone for 45 minutes and they can suck my balls!
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Back in the days of high school I sat next to this gay dude and this really hot chick in a physics class.
Girl to Gay Dude: "I like those jeans you are wearing. What brand are they?"
Gay Dude to Girl: "Guess."
Girl to Gay Dude: "Levi's?"
ME: LOL
(i might have dated myself with the fact that someone was wearing guess jeans when I went to high school, but it is still a funny story none-the-less, and I am old)
Girl to Gay Dude: "I like those jeans you are wearing. What brand are they?"
Gay Dude to Girl: "Guess."
Girl to Gay Dude: "Levi's?"
ME: LOL
(i might have dated myself with the fact that someone was wearing guess jeans when I went to high school, but it is still a funny story none-the-less, and I am old)
Joined: Jul 2001
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From: La Crescenta, CA
I was at the Albertson's deli counter last week. I said to the chick behind the counter: "I'll take 1/4 pound of that Swiss cheese. Just eyeball it and cut it in one slice." She just gave me this 
look. I said "Hold it up to the counter. Cut off this much -- one slice." Another look. "I said set the slicer to this wide." She started to cry. Finally the deli manager came over and did it.
look. I said "Hold it up to the counter. Cut off this much -- one slice." Another look. "I said set the slicer to this wide." She started to cry. Finally the deli manager came over and did it.
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From: Chandler, AZ
Originally Posted by 177ark,May 8 2008, 11:53 AM
i might have dated myself with the fact that someone was wearing guess jeans when I went to high school
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From: Calgary
One night back in the high school days my buddy and I had to get up on a Saturday morning to head in to work together. We got pisser loaded on Friday night and arrived back at his house to find that his mother, who was supposed to drive us to work about 5 hours from then, was not home. Our concern for the fact that we may not have a ride led us to concoct the wonder scheme that is about to follow.
After a dedicated search, we determined that there were no alarm clocks in the house to wake us up in the morning (it was later discovered that there were 5, one in each bedroom). So we cleverly called a cab company and told them to ring the bell at 7:30am to give us a ride to work. Great plan.
But what if the doorbell didn't wake us up, sleeping all the way upstairs?
Solution: we dragged the mattress from the master bedroom down to the foyer and placed it in front of the front door. Genius. When the bell rang in the morning we knew we'd be awakened and spring into action.
I began to feel slightly queasy after we moved a second mattress down there (boys don't sleep with other boys) and took off running to the bathroom where I proceeded to puke up part of my liver into the toilet. As I stood up, thinking I kept things together pretty well, I heard a couple noises followed by a "What the hell?"
Mark's mom was home and couldn't get the door open because Mark had passed out drunk and was getting smoked in the head repeatedly by the front door as his mom tried to wedge it further open.
I drunkenly dragged mark out of the way and moved a mattress, at which point she came inside, took one look at me and said "That's it, I'm telling your mom you got drunk." I started to contest then looked down and realized I had a solid amount of vomit down the front of me that hadn't made it into the toilet.
Awesome.
She drove us to work in the morning and "trusted me to tell my parents that I had been a bad, bad boy."
Sure sure.
After a dedicated search, we determined that there were no alarm clocks in the house to wake us up in the morning (it was later discovered that there were 5, one in each bedroom). So we cleverly called a cab company and told them to ring the bell at 7:30am to give us a ride to work. Great plan.
But what if the doorbell didn't wake us up, sleeping all the way upstairs?
Solution: we dragged the mattress from the master bedroom down to the foyer and placed it in front of the front door. Genius. When the bell rang in the morning we knew we'd be awakened and spring into action.
I began to feel slightly queasy after we moved a second mattress down there (boys don't sleep with other boys) and took off running to the bathroom where I proceeded to puke up part of my liver into the toilet. As I stood up, thinking I kept things together pretty well, I heard a couple noises followed by a "What the hell?"
Mark's mom was home and couldn't get the door open because Mark had passed out drunk and was getting smoked in the head repeatedly by the front door as his mom tried to wedge it further open.
I drunkenly dragged mark out of the way and moved a mattress, at which point she came inside, took one look at me and said "That's it, I'm telling your mom you got drunk." I started to contest then looked down and realized I had a solid amount of vomit down the front of me that hadn't made it into the toilet.
Awesome.
She drove us to work in the morning and "trusted me to tell my parents that I had been a bad, bad boy."
Sure sure.