You Say Po-Tay-Toe, I Say Po-Tat-O

I spent part of my morning looking for a small computer part named (obviously) by some male computer nerd who had some (as I hear they all do) unnatural and over-the-top fixation with his dangly bits.

A dongle.

It truly is hard to say that with a straight face. Especially to very young andun-ethnic-ly afroed spawn of the afore-mentioned nerds who must spend more time getting his hair like that then I do in my daily commute.

However, the dongle has been acquired and is now allowing me to type this to you from the comfort of my porch...

...while I recover from the glee of the $70 I just made by accepting an emergency call...

...while I try to figure out why on earth people who are in a hurry go into stores at 11 am on Saturdays and then blame it on everyone else. Rudely. Loudly...

...and additionally, what arrogance possesses people who seem to believe that grocery store aisles exist for them and them alone.

COURTESY. It's what's wrong with the world.

Comments

[james]

i think there should be magnetic tracks on grocery store floors, that shopping carts cannot leave. you may turn if the way is clear, you may stop to acquire product, you may use the centre magnetic lane to pass at an appropriate speed (again, if the way is clear) but you may NOT be an asshole and plug up the whole aisle or stop your fat, stirrup-pants-clad ass to bitch at your fat-ass, budweiser-pants-clad husband over the price of fucking Highliner fish dicks -- er, sticks -- and then look completely disgruntled, pissed off and put out because the thirty people waiting to get by your fat ass are getting a little huffy.

no, that has never happened to me. i made it up. any resemblance to actual FAT-ASSED WHITE TRASH 80s-REJECTED SKANK-BAGS IN SAFEWAY THREE TUESDAYS AGO, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

[The Captain of This Boat]

omigod I laughed so hard I spit. hahahahahhahaha.