Angry? Mad as hell and you can't take it anymore? Get something off your chest and it could be published online and/or in print. Bitches are anonymous and may be edited for length, grammar, spelling and our lenient standards of propriety.
Thursday, June 30, 2011
To the ignorant people that walk their dogs, take a bag with you and pick up after them. If they shit in your house do you just leave it there? I will say it again, if you own a dog show some responsibility or get rid of it! —Responsible Caring Dog Owner
My beef is when you drop in unexpectedly, you pull up in your car that you smoke in with the window down "so your car doesn't smell like an ashtray" (uh, yes it does) and put your cigarette out on my paved driveway right in front of my door AND LEAVE IT THERE! At least have the decency to pick up your stomped on butts. How about grinding them into my kitchen floor? At least then I can just sweep them into the corner and hoover them up once a week. Why would you even think this is ok? The next time I come visit you I'm going to throw my empty chip bag into your rose bushes or fire my pop can up on your deck before I come in your house. —Your Butts Burn My Ass
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Everybody in the immediate and surrounding area watched. My friend and I were close to the situation, and you glanced at us, as we were observing. You then essentially threw your daughter into her car seat, while she cried that she was worried about her younger sister (18-24 months, at most) who had bolted away from your vehicle, down the boardwalk, while you fastened your eldest daughter's seatbelt. You replied to her, "DON'T YOU WORRY ABOUT YOUR SISTER - SHE'S MY PROBLEM, SHUT YOUR GODDAMN MOUTH."
At this point, the male I was with yelled to you, concerned, from where we were, "What's your problem over there?" You simply looked at us and continued to berate and yell at your daughters. After you had collected your smaller daughter from a good length down the boardwalk in a pile of strangers, and had sufficiently shoved her into her seat, you looked over at us and exclaimed, "Keep staring!" We kept staring. Especially at the make, model, colour, and licence plate of your vehicle, which has been reported to the police.
I am trying to be objective about the situation; my profession is working with children and families, and I know that parents occasionally have public meltdowns, just like children and—while the following doesn't excuse or explain your behaviour, in my books—possibly it was the first and last time this has happened for you, and you feel really guilty about it, and you would never actually lay a hand on your daughter. Possibly you lost your job earlier, and your husband left you, and you were diagnosed with an incurable disease all in the same day, and any other possible "justification" you could have that would play into this, and you snapped. But considering all of the dimmer possibilities, I did not feel comfortable simply observing the situation and being disgusted by the threatening anger you displayed toward your daughters tonight. I have to wonder, if you're comfortable with THAT kind of an outburst in public, what happens behind closed doors? I hope that you were, at the very least, sufficiently embarrassed by the entire situation. —Get a Clue
Where are the cops for these guys? Why are motorcycles continually doing this without punishment? I do not feel safe on the road, cops. Don't bother saying, "Oh, they're too fast! The cops can't catch them!" Not good enough. I demand more legislation! Why should these fucking road demons be permitted to endanger everyone on the road? FUCK OFF! —Fearing for My Life