Worse than them little limp bizkit bastards
but not as hard as the fucking bitch who monitors the health center parking lot.
physical: less than fun at 8am. also, due to fuck ups among the registration staff, i ended up sitting in the waiting room for an hour after i should have been free to go. so i was already in a bad mood.
as i'm handing back in my parking pass, she tries to ticket me. for what, you might ask? for parking in the health center lot when i was not in the health center.
"but i was indeed in the health center," i say.
"no you weren't," says the bitch.
"yes, i was," i say, pulling out my receipt.
"yeah, but you can't go somewhere else while you're parked here," she says, still trying to give me the fucking ticket.
"i didn't," i say.
"yes you did. we have cameras monitoring both doors," says the bitchwhore.
"okay, what time is it?" i ask.
the time, gentle reader, was 9:43.
i point out that my receipt was printed off at 9:40. where the fuck am i gonna go in three fucking minutes?
"whatever. you're on the cameras," says the bitchwhore, rolling her eyes.
i wish i had magical powers that could give people wasting illnesses. i'd choose something particularly nasty for her. painful, bloody, possibly involving the genitals.
i don't need this kind of crap before noon.
but not as hard as the fucking bitch who monitors the health center parking lot.
physical: less than fun at 8am. also, due to fuck ups among the registration staff, i ended up sitting in the waiting room for an hour after i should have been free to go. so i was already in a bad mood.
as i'm handing back in my parking pass, she tries to ticket me. for what, you might ask? for parking in the health center lot when i was not in the health center.
"but i was indeed in the health center," i say.
"no you weren't," says the bitch.
"yes, i was," i say, pulling out my receipt.
"yeah, but you can't go somewhere else while you're parked here," she says, still trying to give me the fucking ticket.
"i didn't," i say.
"yes you did. we have cameras monitoring both doors," says the bitchwhore.
"okay, what time is it?" i ask.
the time, gentle reader, was 9:43.
i point out that my receipt was printed off at 9:40. where the fuck am i gonna go in three fucking minutes?
"whatever. you're on the cameras," says the bitchwhore, rolling her eyes.
i wish i had magical powers that could give people wasting illnesses. i'd choose something particularly nasty for her. painful, bloody, possibly involving the genitals.
i don't need this kind of crap before noon.