Driving Personalities: 'Ignorant Ian'

Of all the drivers so far, these are probably the people I hate the most.

Why you ask? Well let me tell you.

'Ignorant Ian' is a moron. 100% pure concrete between both ears. 

If life was Lord of the Flies, Ian would be the first person we killed to eat for food because he is of little value to our society.

To put it simply, Ian doesn't know any of the actual the laws of driving. This is what he does:

• Drives 30 km/h in school zones. Always. Even on weekends and evenings when there is no school.

• Drives 30 km/h in playground zones. Always. Even when it's pitch black outside. Somehow he is expecting a child to manifest in the dark and hurl their tiny bodies madly onto the road into oncoming traffic.

• Ignorant Ian honestly believes that a yield sign means stop and hammers on the brakes needlessly

• Merging into highway traffic which is running at 100 km/h while going 50 km is perfectly acceptable. In fact, Ian thinks that the highway should merge into you instead. Then he has the audacity to give you the finger when you nearly crumple his bumper because of his idiocy.

• Red means go and green means stop. Always. There is no such thing as yellow lights.

• Ian is a firm believer in leaving 97 car-lengths between himself and the car in front of him. You know, just in case they decide to slam it into reverse and plow backwards 100 miles an hour at a red light for no reason. Happens all the time.

• Oh one of my favorites is that Ian believes you MUST drive 30 km whenever you see a police vehicle. It doesn't matter if it's on the other side of the road, it doesn't matter if it doesn't have it's lights on, it doesn't matter if it's observed in a parking lot way out of the way. 30 km. Automatically. You useless bag of dog poop, this is not the way our police laws work. Ugh.

• Cars are like rowboats and so therefore we should all yield to slower moving traffic and move into the left-hand lane. Especially during rush hour. Because it's way more practical to clog up 18,000 commuters on their way to work rather then inconveniencing 1 slow egghead who is just another 'Ignorant Ian'.

• Parking over 3 parking stalls when driving a piece of garbage vehicle is perfectly acceptable. In fact, everyone should do it.

• The lines on the road are more like 'guidelines' and so drifting back and forth is the proper thing to do. In fact, other people should be completely fine with this.

• Ian believes that having your halogen brights on all day everyday is the best way to make sure other drivers can see your vehicle. Because blinding lights don't cause accidents. Ever. 

Ignorant Ian is an idiot. These people are the reason why I  believe mandatory reviews should be taken on driving laws in order to keep your license. It's not acceptable. If you don't know the laws, don't drive. Stay home and drink some eggnog. Or take the bus. Or else become a pedestrian. Or become dead.

Permanently.

If you foolishly decide to pursue driving in complete ignorance, be prepared to have me (and others) ream you out, make rude gestures, tailgate you, honk endlessly, key your car, throw rotten fruit at you, and purposefully take a sledgehammer to your car after you park it.

And no, we will not feel sorry for you or apologize. You deserve it you ignoramus.

Ignorance is not an excuse.

Be informed or be roadkill.

Good grief.

Driving Personalities: 'Blabbermouth Barbara'

Did any of you watch Glee this week? Or Grey's Anatomy? Or House?? Or maybe you were just raving to each other about that ROFL moment on Big Brother or Bachelor Pad!! Or did you hear the news that the Black Eyed Peas might be breaking up?? Or that Beyonce is pregnant with siamese babies? OR EVEN BETTER....did you hear about the ROYAL COUPLE'S new tour concerning people eating tasty animals?? No??? Well you should have!! In fact you should probably just have a good old sit down and talk about absolutely everything you can possibly think of. Like your kids.....and your spouse's latest battle with elephantitis.....and what you have spent the last 25 years, 2 months, 5 days, 7 hours, 26 minutes, 43 seconds, and 92 milliseconds doing. 

In fact you should basically 'tweet' your life out verbally.

Oh and make sure you narrate it with lots of hand gestures and "quotation" marks so people don't somehow misunderstand what you're saying. It's a well known fact that a plethora of hand gestures makes your English better!!! And make sure you speak at a voluble level. In fact you should speak so loud that every man, woman and child in China can hear your conversation. And that gesturing......it's gotta be good enough that it looks like you're drowning in an ocean waving for rescue.

Obviously this should only take place in your vehicle.

While you are driving.

With 5 friends. 

On the highway.

In rush hour.

Ladies and gentlemen, meet 'Blabbermouth Barbara'. 

Pretty self-explanatory.... but this is the person who just never shuts up while driving.

They take their hands off the steering wheel and attempt driving with their knees while they tell a grand story with their hands about how they survived Y2K or saw Justin Timberlake and Janet Jackson's "wardrobe malfunction" at the superbowl. You know, super exciting high quality stuff.

All of the blabbermouth's friends then giggle like little schoolgirls who have just eaten a delicious pack of licorice on a sunny day. "Teeheehee Barbara you're so darn funny!!" or...."Tell another stupid story Barbara you're just killing it today!!"

I do not laugh.

I reach for my crossbow.

If you want to talk about your life story, pull over and have a pow-wow in the shoulder (actually please do because then I can run you over like a gopher and not even feel a little bit sad). 

Or perhaps.....hmmmm I dunno.....go be one of those 'Desperate Housewives' in Starbucks (see previous rant on Starbucks for clarification). 

At least you are not on the road endangering the lives of the average citizen. With your fat mouth. Zip it Barb.

Also.....cell phones....while I get why some people talk on them....'Blabbermouth Barbara' utilizes them for useless conversation. I know this for a fact because I am an expert at lip-reading. 

My favourite is when I stopped at a red light and I decide to figure out what the person in the car next to me is talking about. You know, just for kicks and giggles. I figure it must be pretty important because of how animated she looks.

Lima beans.

She was talking about lima beans and how they are different in colour then other beans.

Really....??!!!

LIMA BEANS???!!!!
Oh my lanta

I really really really really really really really wish I could cast spells like Harry Potter. 

Cruciatus Curse sounds great to me.

Actually no......Avada Kedavra is more appropriate.

Anything to shut these blabbermouths up.

Seriously,get off the  road.

Or else prepare yourself for that crossbow bolt in your brain.

Grahhhh so frustrating!!

And that's The Daily Ranter

Driving Personalities: 'Manic Melanie'

I hate 'Manic Melanie'

These are those kind of people that you never fully understand when you are driving. 'Manic Melanie' either suffers from Multiple Personality Disorder (which is tragic) or is just a Grade A moron (more likely).

She (or he, but for easiness I will use 'her'. Maybe I should use it...? Anyways...) will do the following things which aggravate the heck out of me:

1. Change lanes spontaneously for no reason. Right into you. And without signalling. Hey Melanie....your exit isn't for another 1,279 km honey. Completely unnecessary. Stupid head.
2. She will speed up, slow down, then slam on the brakes as if following a vehicle. However, this only occurs when there is no vehicle in front of her. There is not a leprechaun on her shoulder telling her "Ok now speed up by 8...slow down by 12.....ok QUICK SPEED UP AGAIN....." Or maybe there is??
3. They will roll their eyes back in their head savagely as you pass them and foam at the mouth with anger. They will then flip the bird at you because they are peeved. Nobody knows why they are peeved.....but they just are. (Which by the way is one of the symptoms that somebody is either taking a lot of steroidal hormones or suffering from Rabies.)
4. Manic Melanie will inexplicably drive slow when it is sunny and dry, and speed when it is icy and snowing, and treat yield signs and merge signs as stop signs. Again, the only potential reason being that she is completely psychotic. Or maybe a chronic drunk. Hmmm.
5. They believe traffic circles exist solely for the purpose of driving around aimlessly in circles. In the outside lane. Illegally.
6. They lack the concept of 'responsible driving'. Manic Melanie is always the first person involved in the scene of an accident. Coincidentally they are also the first person to keep on driving away from said accident. The first person to get arrested. The first person to swear at the involved people. The first person to lose their temper. The first person to scream needlessly. The first person to lie to the police officer. And of course.....the first person to blame their invisible friend in the passenger seat for causing the accident because they had to change their adult diaper.Never, unfortunately, are they the first person to die at the scene of the accident.

Melanie....go see a psychiatrist baby.

It's all in your head.....it's all in your head.....

But let's get real here.

When I see these people out on the roads I truly wish I was driving a Tank. 

A really large German Tiger Tank. 

With a machine gun nest and strips of tacks to throw on the road. 

Then I could just roll up behind Manic Melanie and squish her into a flattened disk on the road. Actually if you think about it, this would save money on tar-filler and repavement. 

Or else next time I see you, I will personally track you down and bring "Smiley" my friendly crowbar and go Pompeii on your car as you sleep inside. Good luck driving your scrap metal Acura to work tomorrow sweetie.

Just saying.

Driving Personalities: 'Fat Freddy'

I dislike Fat Freedy. Straight up.

However, on top of being terrible drivers, 'Fat Freddy's' are just revolting in almost every aspect.

These are the people who frequently brake and drive slowly no matter what lane they're in. You can point out a 'Fat Freddy' when you drive by therm and you see they have their hand stuffed deep into a fast food bag and they are ramming onion rings into their gullet while driving. 

The grease just runs down their faces onto their clothes as they chew gluttonously with satisfied smiles on their faces. 

Nomnomnom there is nothing but them and their next heart attack!

Grease stains are the new hipster clothes!

Fast food makes you popular! 

Nomnomnomnomnomnnomnom!

They never have more than 1 hand on the steering wheel at any point in time because of the need to constantly rummage around for more food or occasionally wipe away their slobber onto the seat next to them. Consequently, they struggle with keeping an eye on the road and driving in a straight line. This is hazardous for regular folk.

Gross.

Let's be realistic here though, 'Fat Freddy' is not always a fat or obese person. In fact, quite often it is just a disgusting skinny slob (man or woman) who should be obese but for some unexplainable reason is not. Why slobs get good genes is beyond me. And plus, how come they can't also have a gene for good driving skills? I firmly believe non-disgusting people are better drivers.

Look, there's a place and a time for shoving gooey pastries and fistfuls of french fries into your gaping mouth, that would would be called "dinner-time". Or perhaps "last meal on death row" time. Do not be revolting and lather yourself with fast food and grease in your vehicle while chewing with your mouth open to the world. We can see digestion occurring in your mouth

Fact: Cars do not make you invisible.

Fat Freddy's are extremely unpredictable drivers and drive hazardously slow. They also have a bad habit of not signalling when changing lanes because it takes too much effort to lift their fat fingers out of the McDonald's bag over to the signal button. It is obviously wayyyyyy more important to scavenge for the last fry at the bottom of the fast food bag.

Again, gross.

So when you see these people I have discovered a technique that works really well to bring them into reality quickly.

Here's what you do:

Get into the lane next to them and slow down to their speed. Then look over at them and make fat disgusting rude faces and lean on your horn for about 30 seconds. If you really want to go all out, roll your window down and yell at them in Latin or German (or another angry sounding language).

Or just make a witty sign with a slogan that says something like: "2 Hands saves lives: Eat those fries and Jimmy dies."

Let's rid the roads 1 Fat Freddy at a time.

Ugh.

Driving Personalities: 'Soccer Mom Susan'

If you get road rage easily when driving high five yourself right now.

Actually take one hand, and give your other hand a hand-hug.

In fact you should probably just let out a giant lion-like roar and yell “ I HATE BAD DRIVERS.”

Trust me, it relieves stress. I just did it.

Anyways, this week the focus is on what I like to call “Driving Personalities”. Similar to the different types of people you see in Starbucks on a given day, driving personalities are different types of people you see out on the road driving. Today we deal with a favourite of many suburbanites:

Soccer Mom Susan.

Soccer Mom Susan is given away first and foremost by her minivan. Now when I say minivan, we’re not talking a cute little vehicle that has a lot of seats, flip down TV’s, and sliding doors.

When I say minivan we’re talking about a rampant, whirling dervish, gasoline ball, of potential death and destruction. Usually a Dodge Caravan.

Soccer Mom Susan is always swerving wildly back and forth on the road (as if drunk) and is constantly changing lanes without signalling. Through the back window you see upwards of 7 faces smeared against the window in a sweaty mess. Then suddenly you see hands on the window....then feet.....then a sneaker comes rocketing out of the window (which you promptly have to dodge to avoid windshield damage).....then you see clothes flying around......and if you’re SUPER lucky and have your windows down, you hear an inhumane screaming noise coming from the interior. 

Ahhhh.....it becomes clear what we have here. A herd of mad-eyed hyenas in a minivan. Cute.

You drive by and you see the following in the hazy mist of the Dodge Caravan:

• Soccer Mom Susan is using one hand to frantically talk on her cell phone to Andy’s parents because the little hyena crapped his shorts in her van's backseat. (Curse you Andy).
• The other hand is stuffed backwards in the van holding a crate of oranges for the kids to savagely devour
• Susan is constantly looking sideways and backwards as she tries to keep her eyes on the kids who are ricocheting off the sides of the van because they are not wearing seat belts.
• There is usually a small ugly dog on her lap. Otherwise it’s a small ugly child.
• Being an avid soccer-mom, she is sportily-dressed wearing LuLu Lemon pants, some brightly coloured shirt and a headband. All slightly discoloured because she wears the same stuff every time there is a soccer game. Which is somehow every day. 

She is just out of control. 

Now I can’t say that it is entirely Susan’s fault that she is a bad driver, however it is ENTIRELY Susan’s fault that she is bad at handling children.

And bad at watching where she is going.

And bad at caring for child safety.

And bad at stopping.

And bad at respecting the speed laws.

And bad at pretty much everything to do with driving actually.

In fact I take back my earlier statement:

It is entirely Susan’s fault.

Look, the solution to this is pretty simple:

DON’T DRIVE 10 KIDS IN ONE VEHICLE

DON’T LET YOUR KIDS PLAY SOCCER

DON'T BREED HYENAS

DON'T DRINK AND DRIVE

Honestly. Just hire a bus for the year. Or a taxi. Or even make the kids ride their bikes for once in their lives.

Guns don’t kill people.....Soccer Mom Susan kills people.

Seriously.

That is all.

Thanksgiving: 15 Things I am Thankful For

I rant a lot. So today it will be a little tamer as I share with you the 15 things I am thankful for on Thanksgiving:

 1.     I am thankful I have not lost a limb in a ‘tragic lawnmower accident’ and become a poster child for the War Amps. 

2.       I am thankful that I don’t drive like a mentally incompetent loser. 

3.       I am thankful for owning pets that have never tried to kill me in my sleep. 

4.       I am thankful that I have learned how to properly use a stand-up urinal. 

5.       I am thankful that I understand how to dress myself properly and don’t act pretentious about what I wear towards other people. 

6.       I am thankful that I have never barfed, pooped, and laughed at the same time. 

7.       I am thankful that I don’t buy ‘organic’ food just to make myself feel better about paying more money for the same products. 

8.       I am thankful that I live somewhere that is absent of hurricanes, earthquakes, tornadoes (mostly), starvation, and those freaky little poisonous animals that feast on your flesh and simultaneously kill you. 

9.       I am thankful that I am not allergic to 9,147 things that prevent me from enjoying life. 

10.   I am thankful that I am not a Siamese twin, I probably would have murdered my other half at some point already. 

11.   I am thankful that I am frugal with my money and don’t spend it needlessly the nanosecond a new piece of technology comes out (ooh look, Iphone824G!) 

12.   I am thankful that I understand the concepts of proper exercise protocol and don’t mutilate my cartilage and joints when working out. 

13.   I am thankful that I am not a used car salesman, plumber, or professional organizer, because that would be a waste of my life. 

14.   I am thankful that I have never met Margaret Atwood because I feel like we could never be anything but worst enemies. 

15.   I am thankful that Leif Ericson (not Columbus you fools) discovered America and allowed for my sweet family and friends to have a place to live and grow up.

Happy Thanksgiving Everyone!!

Well....unless you’re not Canadian.....then Happy Thanksgiving anyways!!

"Irregardless of Anything...."

Let’s keep it short and sweet so you can all dream of pumpkin pie.

I want you to sit back and think about the title of this blog for 30 seconds. I want you to think long and hard about it. If your head comes up blank or you don’t think about anything except your indigestion, sleep, or  the last small animal you throttled, I want you to take your hand.....ball it into a fist.....and punch yourself as hard as you can in the temple.

That sentence is not English. 

Irregardless is not a word you morons.

Let’s say you are discussing potential outcomes of your planned attack on the Hipster sitting across from you. You think it’s an absolutely amazing idea to rush towards him, grab his scarf, and strangle him mercilessly as he checks his e-mail on his Ipad2. 

Your friend says it’s not a good idea. 

You argue back that it is.

Then your friend makes a fatal mistake and utters something stupid such as:

“Irregardless, I don’t want you making a scene in front of everyone.”

........

Hopefully in your fury at this comment, you turn your anger towards your friend instead and lash out with your Mexican Throwing Star. I know I would.

Or I would stuff a bar of soap down his throat and watch him choke to death.

Anyhow, let’s make something very clear here. 

Irregardless is not a word.

It is a double negative.

It is an improper grammatical superlative.

It is a word uneducated, mentally incompetent, backwards, hipster-like people use.

My favourite is during a class presentation:

Presenter:  “Irregardless of these things.....Avatar was a great movie.”

Me: (puts hand up) “You mean REGARDLESS you retard?? Ha ha you are a stupid individual!!”

Quick English lesson here....

Regardless according to the dictionary means: “Having or showing no regard; heedless, unmindful; without concern as to advice or warning.

Irregardless therefore means: “I am a dumb sack of goat meat that tries to sound intelligent but ends up sounding like a complete buffoon.”

If you hear someone utter this phrase, please help cleanse the Earth of these fools 1 at a time.

I suggest beating them to death with a Webster’s dictionary so their last thought is wishing they would have learned to speak properly.

Ugh.

Tazmanian Devil Children

Not all kids are cute.

I mean when they’re really little pounds of flesh and they aren’t able to talk or move around, (think babies), they’re pretty awesome.

Even when they grow older and morph into elementary and junior high students they’re pretty cute.

As long as they’re parented properly.

There seems to be a growing amount of parents in our society who idolize their children so much that they sincerely believe that their kids can do nothing wrong. Their children are angels. Their kid will be the next President, or astronaut, or famous Nickelodeon star. Their kid is always cute and never causes trouble. That would always be someone else’s child causing difficulties.

Drop dead parents.

Let’s be real here. I can tell you numerous stories of kids who act like perfect angels when their parents are looking and then transform into razor sharp-toothed destructive Tazmanian Devil Children. They rush around breaking things, touching stuff that isn’t theirs, throwing dog poop, pulling the tails of animals, and generally acting like mentally deranged possums. Devious little kids. Yeah....real cute.

But the absolutely, positively, irrefutably, most irritating ones are the kids that act like this while their parents watch and do nothing. Example:

I used to work in a retail store. This store was occasionally frequented by parents with small bratty children. Well one day a lady came in with 2 of the ghastly little beasts hanging off of her shopping cart. Once in the store the kids, the kids leaped off the cart and began to lose their mind while the lady shopped. They pulled shoes off the display, started shrieking and running around, ran into the back of the store, smeared their hands all over the glass mirrors, threw garbage at each other, threw shoes at each other, and shrieked some more. I looked to the mom for help, expecting her to act like any reasonable parent would and rein in her children. But of course she was not an ordinary reasonable parent. In fact, she acted as if nothing was happening and the world consisted of unicorns, happiness, and rainbow fairies. 

Then they ran behind the counter and stole my stapler. And began emptying the staples across the floor of the store.

At this point I just lost it. I asked the lady firmly, in a savagely not-nice tone, to control her children because they were being raging destructo-maniacs. (I was even fairly certain I saw the one kid sharpening his fangs into a point with a file while rolling his eyeballs around madly in his sockets and foaming at the mouth......but I could have been hallucinating).  Anyways, what was her response?

“I know, aren’t they just the cutest things ever?! Don’t worry about them they’ll be fine.”

#&*$#&(*@. 

No. Your children are not cute. In fact they are about to become victims of a “tragic accident” in which they find pens somehow embedded in their cerebellums. 

I am not worried about THEM lady, I am worried about ME. 

So.....I decided to mobilize myself in order to neutralize the Tazmanian Devil threat myself. Oh wait, my hand was stapled to the desk by the demon-spawn child with the crazy eyes. It was in this moment of realization  that one of the kids pulled down our entire display of Crocs (about 200+pairs of them all over the floor) while I could only watch in slow-motion anger. 

That was it. I called security. I told the lady she had 2 minutes to get her ill-behaved bratty children out of the store before security escorted them out and she was slapped with a fine for destruction of store property. Her response:

“But they’re not even doing anything; I mean they’re just playing nicely! They’re so cute how can you be upset at them?! Oh and I really like these shoes can I try some on?”

Me: “No. You need to invest in some serious discipline for your children seeing as they have only made rude replies and faces to me when I asked them to stop. If you can’t control your kids when you’re in public, you shouldn’t take them out. Sorry. You need to leave. Now.”

The mom huffed and puffed breathily and called her little Taz’s to her. (Of course they didn’t listen). Then she proceeded to yell. (They still didn’t listen). Finally she just walked out of the store. 

Well, the little bratty boy threw the stapler across the store nearly shattering a mirror and then dashed out screaming bloody murder. The girl started crying about how she was hungry and followed suit in a path of whirling madness.

Honestly, some kids deserve to be spanked. Actually some kids deserve to be spanked 100 times. Actually, some parents could use a good spanking too. Just because they’re your kids does not make them perfect angels or applicants for the Nobel Peace Prize. 

DISCIPLINE YOUR CHILDREN FOR CRYING OUT LOUD.

Or stay at home. 

Or don’t even have kids. 

Tazmanian Devil Children are a Class 1 dangerous animal.

I will hunt down your children and take them to Social Services.

How cute are they now???!!

Ugh.

That is all.

Every Time You Smile an Emo Person Dies

Think about the title of this blog. Now smile. Congratulations you have just killed an Emo person!

Or at least I wish that was the case.

Emo people are last year’s model of the hipster. Just more misunderstood, and more perishable. (As in die easily).

They are shy, fragile, creatures who hold buckets and buckets full of feelings and emotions that they don’t know how to express. So they all express themselves the same way:

• Through their sad pathetic clothing and hairstyle 
• By listening to music which they feel empathizes with their inner feelings 
• Being a Mute, Crying/Corner-sitting 
• Playing in Traffic 
• Self-persecution (I SUCK SOOOOO MUCH AT LIFE! SO I’M JUST GOING TO KEEP DOING THINGS I SUCK AT SO I FEEL WORSE ABOUT MYSELF).

Let’s go through each of these manifestations in closer detail so we can discover exactly why I despise Emo people.

1. The whole world already knows they lack any sort of athleticism or physical strength, yet Emo’s insist on dressing in skin-tight jeans to show off their knocky-knees and pencil legs. Why would you want to wear nut-crusher jeans is my question?  Also they grow their hair long and dye it black (sometimes with a coloured patch in it) and then they comb it over so it covers one of their eyes—which they then use to stare at the ground.

Oh Emo people, you think you make such a statement by telling the world you are sad and depressed through your hair and dress. But in actual fact, you just make yourself a bigger target for being run over and flattened by garbage trucks who mistake you for pesky skunks. Oh well, nobody misses Emo's anyways.

2. They listen to songs like “Perfect” by pInk (real song) or “It’s Raining Glass and Knives” by The Cornersitters (I wish it was a real song). Either way, the songs frequently reference suicide, death, dying, knives, being cut by knives, dying on a bed of knives, committing suicide by falling on a bed of knives, sadness, deathly sadness, worldly sadness, there is nothing but sadness, dying on a sad bed of knives while tears fall into eternal death....you get the point.

Oh hey Emo people, you know what, nobody else listens to that music. Why?  Because the rest of us have these fun little things called mouths and we use them to share our feelings with others. Oh and also, those artists SUCK and most of us prefer not to listen to suicidal-sad-depressing-the-world-is-ending-I-hate-my-life-bands.

3. It’s a fact: Emo people are pretty much mute. Have you ever tried talking to one? It’s like talking to a sack of hammers with a mouth. A really really really stupid sack of emotional hammers. They are too self-absorbed to respond to anything you say so they just shuffle away and stare at the ground. Or they go cry in the corner by themselves because you tried talking to them (which somehow means you don’t understand them).

The best way to make friends with an Emo person is to stand next to them and not say anything but nod your head sadly in empathy.

I prefer my method: mace them. “SEE YOU CRY NOW SUCKAHHH”

Or smile. And watch them die. Because every time you smile an Emo person dies.Fact.

4. Emo’s are at highest risk for dying in pedestrian related accidents. Reason being they can’t see past their hair and shuffle everywhere.

But nobody cares.

5.  Self-persecution is rampant amongst Emo people. And you know what? 

Nobody really cares about that either. It’s their own choice. If they want to think that everyone hates them.....fine....we can make that happen. If they want to believe they can’t do anything with their life.....fine.....it’s easier for the rest of us to be successful. 

I don’t buy any of this nonsense that it’s somehow my fault that Emo people are Emo. Being Emo is a choice. If you choose to sit in a corner and cry about your life I don’t feel sorry for you at all, nor do I feel like joining you. I feel like Emo people need to adopt one of my favourite slogans:

Deal With It Or Die With It.

And that’s The Daily Ranter.

Dead Fish Disease

This is not about fish, this is not about being sick, this is not about being dead--but at the same time it is about all of these things; this is the dreaded Dead Fish handshake.

Yes, a handshake.

But this is not any ordinary handshake, oh no. You see, most humans have been brought up by their parents and peers to utilize a handshake as a greeting or means of introduction.  Those who haven’t are mutations of real people and are in desperate need of a vaccine. Please inform the WHO if you find one asap.

Anyways, the proper protocol dictates you shake hands with the other person, squeezing relatively firmly up and down (maximum 2 times lest it become awkward). You give a small smile and perhaps say “Hello” or “How are you? I’m McAwesome Man”. Your hands are clean and somewhat warm....the exchange goes smoothly and you have made a good impression on the other person. No venomous thoughts occur.

Dead Fish Disease on the other hand, is an abomination to the world of handshakes and hello’s. The individuals with this disease do NOT shake hands. Rather they extend a limp, slimy appendage to you as you reach out for a handshake. Covered with cold and clammy sweat, and a sheen that can only be described as ‘mucus-like’, they drop their hand into yours. Not knowing any better, you follow the proper handshake protocol and squeeze slightly firmly. You suddenly experience the following emotions and feelings:

1. They do not squeeze back.
2. Their hand is limp as a dead fish.
3. They do not smile.
4. They gaze through you towards a distant fog.
5. They make a gill-like fish slurping noise.
6. You feel like you are shaking a cold bag of squishy Jello.
7. You draw your hand away....it smells like toad farts.
8. Gross.

Now I don’t know how the rest of you feel when this occurs, but I get filled with an inner rage and repulsion. I want to take out my personal fish bonker and club them dead while yelling: “FISH FOR SUPPER, FISH FOR SUPPER!!”

It’s just a handshake, seriously. If you’re too scared to shake hands and sweat profusely, then stay home and maybe drink some hand sanitizer. Or else learn the high five/fist pound. The human hand is one of the strongest structures in the body, so nobody buys your garbage that you can’t physically have a firm handshake. And also.....CLEAN YOUR DISGUSTING HANDS! Haven’t you ever heard of washing your urine and bodily germs off your hands? Or making sure that you don’t rub your mucus-sneezes all over your hands in vigorous rubbing motions? Yeesh. 

Oh, and last thing about you who suffer from Dead Fish Disease. YOU ARE ALL WARM-BLOODED VERTEBRAE WITH CEREBRAL CORTEX’S—ACT LIKE ONE.

Otherwise we will spear hunt you all to death:

“FISH FOR SUPPER, FISH FOR SUPPER!”

That is all.

Baby Stroller Battletanks

I HATE baby strollers. 

See when I was a young infant, my family in fact did have a baby stroller. However this was an ordinary baby stroller: it was small, could fold up into almost nothing, and could only hold 1 baby at a time. Well technology has advanced, and now it has brought us to create a stroller which is the bane of my existence—the Baby Stroller Battletank.

These are the strollers that you see plodding down the mall or on the street that are the size of a small car. At first you think it’s pretty cute that someone has septuplets (7 kids) and has decided to take them for a walk. But then, you gaze into the gaping interior to discover......1 baby. 

1 freaking baby.

These parents need to be punched in the head repeatedly. Excuse me, it’s a baby stroller NOT an ATV or a German Panzer tank. I mean the rest of the interior is wastefully stuffed with plushies, diapers, food, and a home entertainment system. You know, because the parents like to bring their entire house with their baby when they go out for 10 minutes due to their inability to take care of their children themselves. (Which is child abuse by the way).

These battle tanks are also conveniently as wide as a barn door and bar the sidewalks and buses from being used in the proper capacity. I have seen pedestrians throw themselves mercilessly onto the road into oncoming traffic in a desperate attempt to maneuver around them. Poor souls. My favourite is when you are taking the bus and have to stop for about 20 minutes while little Sally Moronface has to load her 5,000 ton Baby Tank onto the bus. I always plead in my head for the bus driver to savagely kick her in the knees and push her onto the street so she gets hit by a semi-truck—this never happens unfortunately.

It’s true though, these things are truly built for war.

They give parents absolute power and control in public places. Countless are the times in which I see adults pushing their way through a crowd and obnoxiously making room for themselves exclaiming “sorry, I have a baby stroller”. Nobody questions them because the worst thing you can do is mess with a woman who has just gone through birth and is suffering from extreme hormonal fluctuations. Plus, you’re pretty sure that they must be packing heat somewhere in that stroller to take out anyone who stands in their way.

Which brings me to the next point, and that is the baby weaponry.  It’s a well known fact that babies shriek like the Nazgul when upset—a most effective crowd-clearing tool and means of driving off enemies by striking fear and terror into their hearts. Also, their poop smells like rotting corpses and nobody wants to be the victim of a diaper gravy attack from an enraged baby. That's just bad news.

Lastly, these Battle Tanks also serve another greater purpose: stealing. Ohhhhh yes, I worked in retail for 2 years and let me tell you that mothers believe that a stroller is a shoplifting tool.  Their septuplet stroller doesn’t even have 1 baby in it, but rather is filled with shoes, clothing, electronics, and anything else they can get their grubby mitts on. When challenged about shoplifting they look at you with puppy-dog eyes and say “My baby’s sleeping in here”. Which is a bald-faced lie. (This by the way is a true story, and has happened to me more than once).

So the solution to this problem is pretty obvious. Since Baby Stroller Battletanks are weapons of warfare, those who pilot them should be treated as POW’s. We should hunt them down, lock them up, and try them at Nuremberg. Then we should hold a stroller-burning, and follow that up by executing the inventor of the stroller battletank. 

Or we can just Ninja Kick them in face, steal their babies on the street and give them to gypsies.

Both would work.

That my friends is The Daily Ranter.