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Can't remember the last time I said it and meant it.
Does feel good though.
Untrue: Fuck off microwave.
Knock at the door around 6.00 pm, I open it and there's a guy standing there. Toothy, grinning, chipper English dude with a clipboard and some sort of official badge on his shirt. Conversation goes something like this:
Him: Hello mate, how's your evening going?
Me: Um... OK thanks.
Him: Not interrupting your dinner am I?
Me: No, it's OK.
Him: Had a good day, have you?
Me: [becoming irritated] Yeah, fine thanks. What can I do for you?
Him: [points to badge] I'm collecting for the Australian Surf Life Savers Association. Would you like to make a donation?
Me: Ah, no thanks, I can't help you.
Him: "Can't" help or "won't" help?
Me: OK, won't help.
Him: Just a small donation, even a dollar makes a difference.
Me: [way beyond the point where I'm going to give this cunt anything] Sorry, I donate to various organisations of my own choosing, which means I don't give money to random door-knockers.
Him: Which organisations do you give money to?
Me: None of your business.
Him: Can I ask: do you ever go to the beach?
Me: [we're about 3 mins walk from the beach] Yes, I do.
Him: Ever got into difficulties out in the water?
Me: Nothing I couldn't handle on my own, no.
Him: But you know that people do get into difficulties, and when they do, they're rescued by lifesavers?
Me: Yes, I know that.
Him: So you admit they do a good job?
Me: Look mate... I'm going to have to go now.
Him: [imitating me] "Look mate..." I'm talking about a couple of dollars. Are you telling me you don't have a couple of dollars? You've probably got it right there in your pocket.
Me: OK, I'm closing the door now, bye [starting to close the door].
Him: [sarcastically] Well, thanks very much, great to talk to you mate.
Me: [suddenly seeing red, opening the door again] OK, you can fuck off.
Me: [stepping out the door] You heard me, fuck off.
Him: [backing away, smirking, satisfied] Certainly. You have a great evening!
... and off he fucks.
Postscript: Newspaper article appeared a few days later warning of a bunch of geezers who were trawling the neighbourhood and posing as collectors for the Aust Surf Life Savers Association.
There seems to be quite a high percentage of them, so smugly satisfied with themselves and judgemental, ARGH I HATE THEM FUCK OFF THESE PEOPLE
when i was 17 and dating a girl at college her friend, who was also her ex was giving her a tonne of shit so i grabbed him by the neck and told him. he was nice after that. i was not hard though, if it had got physical he probably would have killed me
I should probably stop that.
But it's so satisfying when it works. It's like giving someone a verbal karate chop.
I was playing football, their number four dived in the box and won a penatly... it was the most blatant dive I've seen.. totally conned the ref. He tried to shake my hand after the game. I told him to Fuck off. He wondered why...
I guess this made him the bigger man after all... still, it felt good....
via the intercom.
There was no particular reason. He asked me to buy him some fags from the shop and I said no and carried on walking. I saw him say something but I had my music on pretty loud and I felt like a boss, so I just assumed it was backchat and told him to fuck off. I didn't get stabbed so everything's just great
come along Rover...Yes I KNOW Fatha will beat the both of us for not getting his fags, but that nice man's not to blame...Let's just be happy that we're alive.
I've told my immediate family to fuck off, one by phone, two to their faces, on via facebook after a debate on whether my brother was a racist, reactionary, ignorant prick or not (he is, I won).
I meant it as well, they're all scum.
Not at the doorstep, as I do worry that they then have a fairly thorough idea of where I live. People who phone up trying to sell stuff can definitely get a fuckoff. It makes me feel all funny inside and makes me feel big and important.
it's easier just to say nice things in a really aggressive and shouty manner and punctuate that with very long pauses, maybe some heavy breathing or rubbing the phone against whatever roughest material there is nearby.
i don't get many cold calls anymore.
no real significant difference, just the former rolls off the tongue a little more easily
From places like my credit card company or Vodafone, they act as if they are the official company but are just outsourced sales buffoons. They start by trying to get you to answer security questions, I refuse and ask "how do I know who you are? is there something wrong with my credit card?". I can keep the whole shebang going for some time.
I'll carry out a series of my own security checks by asking them to confirm the name of the company they work for, their full name. Then I'll quickly do a google search (sometimes using the number they call from if it's not been hidden) and ask them to confirm the postcode or address details.
I also like to put them on hold by leaving the phone next to my headphones whilst I find stuff out.
It's also handy for getting the ombudsman details on screen.
This. I shall do this.
Can't remember the name of the band now but there was a guy throwing pieces of bread around at people and being a general fool. I was drunk and enjoying myself and told him to fuck off throwing bread, it's not funny etc. Turns out the band tell fans to bring pat the baker bread to gigs to throw around to one of their songs, I was close to fighting him apparently. I was in a bad mood that night. also I was told I was talking to the lead singer after about how shit the band were without knowing it was him :/
there was fuck all people there and he went into the crowd and started singing in this guys face, he looked like he just wandered in on his own. He turned and left.
Pretty embarrassing when people do this, worse when there is no one around and your only fan is too busy using bread as confetti.
It felt good!!!
or any variation on that. angriness and confrontation = the worst.
that way you avoid the build up and the association tension.
Association Tension is something else.
I think my inherent patience is the killer. I try to be all reasonable and diplomatic, but cunts gon' be cuntish.
Hi, I'm incandenza_, fuck off.
when I was seven, I saw this man in the park...he was massive, with long hair and a beard, and bounding about like a big happy (but also kinda scary dog) in human form, playing with his his kids in the adventure playground. he looked like a Harley rider.
and he was wearing a t-shirt that simple said FUCK on it.
I was amazed.
because it kept barging past me and getting spit on my trousers. FUCKING DOG rolled in fox shit as well, what a prick.
and only foxes tend to reach those kinds of heights. Could've been a really unhealthy dog or something though.
there was a fox peeking over the bushes sniggering
every fucking day for the past two weeks. It's a spam number that I've saved so I know not to answer it and I just let it ring instead or pressing reject because I don't want to offend them.
We were camping with a guy we all knew from school (he strangely parked behind us, so we had to coamp with him) but hadn't seen in ages. Anyway, he'd pretty much been annoying all of our group (especially me) all weekend. On the Saturday night, he said something to me that just made me snap and I told him to go forth and multiply. For the remainder of Saturday and Sunday he didn't speak to me and was pretty sheepish. He left early on the Sunday as well.
I didn't feel bad, he was being a proper shit and 3 days of him acting like a complete benny was 3 days too many.
hen that fucking montenegran bastard scored. definitely meant it, definitely felt bad