We all know about the multitude of crosswalk accidents that occur in the HRM every year. This year we've even gone so far as to put up signs on buses asking both drivers and pedestrians to be careful when it comes to crosswalk safety. These signs only serve to frustrate me, because I walk across the rotary twice a day. I get to watch people waiting to merge, with a car ahead of them, see me coming and pull the car ahead to cover the crosswalk, trying to stop me from going in front of them. I get to deal with making eye contact with people in cars, and having to step back when they gun the engine so they can go first. I've even dealt with cars honking at me when I walk in front of them. The mornings seem fine, but this happens every other day in the afternoon. I don't care why you want to get home quickly. What you're doing LATER doesn't matter—what you're doing when you're driving a multi-ton steel death machine matters NOW. -Quick Feet on the Crosswalk

It's a long shot that the delivery guy who made my day is going to read this, but the exercise is fun so here it goes. You come to the loading bay of the company I work for, throw the dozen or so parcels on the ramp of the loading dock and, after I throw down a couple of pallets you ask "Aren't you going to help me?" Help you what? Do your job? Are you going to share your salary with me? Are you going to help me receive and distribute the garbage you just delivered? Then you say "Well, the other guy helps me." Good for him. That's his choice; not your entitlement. Getting pissy and throwing around the cartons after I explained my version of job-sharing—you unload them, I'll sign for them—was just the foam on the beer. You may be forcing Canada Post out of business, it doesn't give you license to cop a CUPW attitude. Thank you. Come again. -The Nice Guy

I worked for you because I believed in what you did and thought your food to be delicious. I quickly learned you were a hack who stole all of "your recipes" (pretty much to the letter) from a more successful restaurant you had worked at previous. You worked us like dogs, paid minimum wage (for which you constantly complained about), took our tips (STOLE our tips), never gave us breaks, didn’t bother to familiarize yourself with labour laws and constantly dragged your giant suitcase full of fucked-up family, kid, divorce drama with you to work. What’s great about this situation is—I got a new job. A job with benefits, amazing people, a beautiful space. What’s more, I keep my tips. Every penny, and boy, am I reeling them in. So, while your shitty restaurant is bleeding money—I’m living the high life, having fun, going to the motherfucking dentist and am generally happy. -No Longer Yours

You were my best friend. I loved you more than I loved myself, and gave so much of my being to you. When you were kicked out on the street, I took you in to live with me for free. When you were broke and hungry, I fed you and gave you money. When you sat on my porch sobbing, I held you and rocked you like a baby. What did I get in return? A knife in the back. You dropped me like a hot potato because I apparently "rubbed you the wrong way" on one occasion. I did NOTHING to deserve it, and I think you know it. Even now, months later, I can't believe our entire friendship was a farce. Despite all the awful things you did, I still saw only the best in you. I stood by you through everything; you once said you'd be lost without me. Now you act as though I don't exist. I've come to the conclusion that with or without me, you are definitely a lost cause. You use your bad childhood as an excuse for why you make awful choices all the time. You constantly moan about how you father abandoned you, yet you have no problem chumming with someone who abandoned her own child (which you see nothing wrong with). I want you to know how profoundly you've hurt me. I know you won't care, but I want you to know anyway. I also want you to know that if I found you dying of thirst in the desert...I'd still give you water, because that's who I am. That's the type of person you threw away. Good luck being you, you'll need it. -No More Miss Nice Girl

You know when you take a huge shit in a coffee shop washroom, and there's a little turdling that won't flush down? I hate waiting for the tank to refill so that I can flush again. -Flush

Those fucking idiots on the crispy chicken sandwich commercial: Nobody holds a fucking chicken sandwich like that. And it doesn't crunch like that, it's a fucking soundtrack. And they aren't even eating it. It's all done by food artists. You never get a fucking sandwich that looks like that. Bunch of arseholes. -PK's Mom

Have hipster men figured out yet that the "hipster" style is for females? It's a sad state in our culture because men are becoming women. -River Bob

You were all talk about going out west and making better money. All blaming Nova Scotia for your lack of employment and love life. Even making fun of us as you were leaving, saying we were suckers for staying here with high taxes and low pay and losers to date. Now 11 months later, I find out you are STILL single and now working retail for $18/hour, a laughable wage in Alberta! I make more than that at my "lowly" (as you called it) job here in Halifax. Now will you realize Scotia was not to blame for your "misfortunes," but rather the fact YOU just suck at life is the culprit?! LOL. - Laughing at This Douche

I always think I like donairs until the day after. Sure they are tasty but, like, I would really love to know what the fuck is in this meat. Don't you dare say it is just beef and spices. Beef and spices have never turned my butthole into a hot atomic weapon before. An hour after eating this shit you are burping up rancid stank and then look out the gutrot sets in. The next day, you will give birth to a Buick in the toilet and have beef sweats for days after. WTF is in the mystery meat? -Skidmarxist

Mild bitch but worth noting: I was watching the evening news recently and saw university students demonstrating about global warming, greenhouse gases, etc. Good show! I support that! UNTIL...same students were making signs for their demonstration on the sidewalk...using none other than aerosol spraypaint cans! Nice one! Think people, THINK! -Something to Air Tonight