People who constantly embellish or completely make up stories on such a grandiose scale that it makes everyone who is listening uncomfortable because they all have to humour this person by not totally calling him/her out on their obvious lie.

Some would advise to call them out, but really... it’s not worth it. This type of person is always one who will make a big show of being called a liar. They will huff and puff and insist that their story is true.

Sometimes it is a small enough lie to be semi-plausible (I drank 19 beers last night) but deep down you just know they are lying. Occasionally something will be too huge to let slip past and that is when you bring the smack down on them (and even then only if you are willing to devote the, ultimately ill spent, time and effort into the process of refuting this asshole).

I don’t know if this personality type is a widespread phenomenon but in the few people that I have met who do this, it is wholly unappealing and childish. I can imagine that it might even be a bit endearing if it were some old guy in a pub telling you how big of a fish he once caught, but I have yet to meet this quaint fisherman.

Honestly if you do this and you are reading this please try to catch yourself next time you decide to spice up your plain story with elements of hyperbolic fiction. It is cute when you’re 6 but not when you’re twenty. —Tadallagash

I met you online. I guess that should have been the first sign.

I thought we really hit it off well, considering you hung off me the whole time. Maybe I'm crazy, but when a girl kisses you and tells you she wants to see you again soon, I thought it meant she liked you. Then, you texted me a week later saying I was creepy because my anxiety disorder makes my hands twitch?

I think the fact you screwed me over like that makes you the creep. —Wake 'N Shake

If I almost get run over by another one of you impatient asshole drivers, I'm going to lose my mind.

It's pretty sad when you have to risk whiplash each and every time you cross the street, making certain no one is speeding towards you. Today, I crossed the street at the intersection by the Halifax Shopping Center on the Mumford side and when I was nearly run down by yet another bitch with no concern for others, I shouted out, "Watch where you are going! and she told ME to go fuck myself.

It was truly one of those "Did that just really happen?" moments. That happen on a daily basis and there's absolutely no need for it. Do these losers not realize how scary it is to see a car speeding towards you, only to break like a foot away from your trembling legs? How much more clear do the walk signs and traffic lights have to be to slow these mother fuckers down?

I'm going to start taking license plate numbers, find these inconsiderate jerks and run as fast as I can at them, stop and yell "BOO"! at them and then walk away. Just call me the pedestrian vigilante. —Scared to Cross the Street

You hurt me so badly. After 2 years of trying to make things work between us, even though we had our difference, I decided that was enough. Ya, I made the decision, but I was also the one putting in all the effort. Did I have regrets? Of course. Did I love you totally? Yes. But I couldn't trust you for so many reasons... and we were just too different in the end. It ended badly. It was a mess. It tore us apart, hurt our friends, made us both move away and change jobs. Mess. I hated you for what you did to me, what you put me through and that was the end of it.

Now it's been 8 months and there's still that crazy connection. There's no chance that there would ever be anything again, but once in a while, there's something in the news or some mutual friend has a story that we know the other would appreciate, so I let my guard down. And once again, you act like a supreme asshole when I'm just trying to be nice back.

So fuck you. I'm not doing this. I'm in a much better place in my life and as much as I miss our talks, I don't need this bullshit. I'm healthy, independent, and happy.

Have a nice life. Ya, I miss the connection, but I can find it elsewhere. I don't miss the manipulation. —In a better head-space

You change your name and put me out of work... could you not find me something else in one of your 8 other stores? I gave you 10 years of hard work and this is how you repay me, with the employment line? One of the top companies to work for? Right... go fuck yourself... —Totally Pissed

I've come across recent bitches about restaurant service and am absolutely disgusted by some of the whiny complaints submitted on here. You know who you are *cough* 'I had to wait 5 minutes for my food while my friend got to eat' lady.

So, as a server myself, I'm going to give some pointers to guide customers, who just have no fucking clue, on how to behave when dining in (be it a fine-dining establishment or a typical pizza place or pub, whatever place that has a specific individual serving a specific party).

(1) You have working eyes (unless you're blind ie. you have a walking stick and seeing-eye dog) so you can see if the place is busy or not. If it's busy, you will wait longer for basically everything, whether you like it or not. Don't bitch at your server for taking 5-10 mins more than usual to get you your drinks if they are clearly serving other tables. Other tables need drinks too, and many of them arrived before you. On the other hand, if the place is almost empty, and you see your server standing around, you have a legit reason to be pissed for the wait of your drinks. But if the former is true, stfu and be patient. It's not all about you!

(2) If you wait a while for your food, it is likely not the server's fault. Yeah, I know some servers have fucked up orders (and I have myself, but not often) or are slow, etc. But a lot of restaurants have take-out and delivery as well. If several T-O and del. orders have bombarded the kitchen before dining orders, those orders will be made first (some kitchen staff live by the ‘first-come first-serve’ rule). Yeah I know, they should probably make the dine-in ones first (after all, dine-in customers are already there ready to eat), but sometimes they don’t—and this is not the my fault!!! Blame management for that one, as they should be enforcing this.

(3) Don’t stare at the menu and ask “What’s on the ‘meat supreme’ pizza?” when you have the menu open to the pizza section and are clearly looking at the ‘meat-supreme’ description. I know you’re not illiterate because you know (and said) it said ‘meat supreme’. Read what’s on it, because I have better things to do re-read the toppings to your lazy ass.

(4) Don’t tell me you’re ready to order when you’re obviously not! I do not want to hear a conversation about who likes green peppers and who hates them, or whether or not you want an appetizer… you decide this before I attempt to take your order. Don’t leave me standing there waiting to hear what the fuck you want to eat, I have other things to do!

(5) You want to know the cost of what you ordered so you’ll know if you have enough cash to pay for it? Ok, I’ll go to the computer and figure it out for you, but if I happen to do a couple of other things first (eg. Serve customers who have come before you, or get you your drinks first and then say I’ll be back to tell you the cost) don’t bitch at me for not telling you yet! Again, it’s not all about you. And it’s your own fault that you’re too lazy or too stupid to do the math and estimate how much it will cost (taxes and all), or that you didn’t bring your debit/credit card just in case you don’t have enough cash!

(6) Don’t tell me your life story. I don’t know you and, honestly, I could care less. This is particularly frustrating if you do this during the lunch/supper rush and I have other customers waiting for my service. And some of you don’t stop talking enough just to let me say “Excuse me, I have to pay out one of my other customers” w/o me interrupting you and coming across as being rude.

(7) Don’t want to tip? Fine, after all it’s up to you. But don’t run me off my feet, getting me to refill your drinks 5 times, sending your food back several times because it’s too salty or there’s veggies in it and you don’t like them (even though the menu clearly stated your dish had veggies), getting me to go back and forth to get you 3 extra sauces then 4 more and bitch me out for charging you for it, or fulfilling any other of your ridiculous requests. I’m not your slave. And I would like to be able to provide service to my other tables (most of whom *are* potential tippers but are not nearly as demanding as you) without you stopping me, yet again, for some other stupid request. If your child pukes anywhere in the restaurant besides in the toilet (not because he/she got food poisoning or is allergic, but simply because he/she ate too much) and you don’t even help me clean it up, I don’t care what anyone says, I DESERVE A TIP!

...That is all... —One hell of a long bitch but I just had to vent

I went to the market this morning and they were out of carrots. WHAT??? Who runs out of carrots?

If you see that you're running low on carrots then ORDER MORE CARROTS!!

Is there a carrot shortage that I didn't know about?—Abby Grabby

That kinda crap music isn't rock. More like they POPPED Halifax, like a zit. —Tired of Hearing It Called "Rock" Concert

To the bitch who unfairly fired me in front of the whole room: FUCK YOU!!!

I was a good agent, sold a lot of crap to people. I never fucked up once. I had perfect attendance, my coworkers even spoke up and said I was unfairly fired, so fuck you and your fucking company. You all can go to hell! —Will be in the air forces now thanks to you...

I really liked your persistence to try and steal my parking space on market street. Unfortunately for you, I wasn't in the mood to give up. Although, I really didn't appreciate you driving into the front of my truck, but you were cute and I let it slide.

Thanks for the Hit and Run. —Red Nissan Frontier