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The what made you sick, annoyed today thread.

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posted on Feb, 24 2007 @ 05:16 PM
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What really irked you, what almost or did set you off today.

I'm here lay out your problems for us to discuss and agree with.


Today I went to visit my sister who is getting shipped to Japan for three years. She didn't really want to talk because she was all involved with Final Fantasy eleven. It really @$#$## me that should couldn't spend more time with me because she's so addicted to a game.




posted on Apr, 21 2007 @ 12:04 AM
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its starts out okish i guess, hot #ing hot cant wait.

time


enjoying not worrying, life going on.


a bit of tiem a bit of hunger

query


meal arrives



time flies


forsaken



posted on Apr, 21 2007 @ 12:11 AM
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Originally posted by Royal76
Today I went to visit my sister who is getting shipped to Japan for three years. She didn't really want to talk because she was all involved with Final Fantasy eleven. It really @$#$## me that should couldn't spend more time with me because she's so addicted to a game.


Is she younger than you ? I had a similar experience with my younger brother when it was time for our goodbye hug's last month when my husband and I left to come back to Japan ... I didn't get one!
I was like "damn that's cold" but he probably just had other things on his mind.
It hurts though huh. We should just let em know how we feel.

lol @ "Getting shipped to Japan" who is shipping her over like furniture ?



Today I was annoyed to hell and back by the news channel ... again! I don't know why I bother but I do like to watch news sometimes and cannot stomach American news ... and all they play out here on the cable we get is CNN and Faux

So I'm just gonna stop



posted on Apr, 21 2007 @ 12:37 PM
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$2.94 a gallon.
That annoys me more than anything lately.

[edit on 21-4-2007 by Black_Fox]



posted on Apr, 24 2007 @ 07:46 AM
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Giving a quick honk at a guy who is meandering into my lane (and others for that matter) to get him to wake up and not side-swipe me, and he honks back thinking that I'm an a-- for honking at him in the first place.



posted on Apr, 24 2007 @ 09:06 AM
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Ugh! Family court makes me disgusted. My ex is a sociopath who is deliberately harming my little girl's mind to hurt me and the court keeps taking the view that there's nothing wrong with it. I even had a statement from her counselor where she'd told her that "Mommy is a liar, daddy told me," and they said ho hum.

My ex is a liar, a drug dealer, an emotional batterer, a thief, an illegal firearms owner and a child abuser, but they keep taking time from me and giving it to him. I have asked for a custody evaluation and the judge doesn't want to give it because it's "too expensive." If I can come up with $3000 when I'm disabled and supporting two kids on Social Security because my deadbeat ex refuses to pay his child support, HE -- the guy that makes $140,000 a year under the table and who owns a $500K plus house in London, England -- can come up with his half.

I hate family court. I leave an abusive marriage and end up being abused by him AND by the court. it sucks.



posted on Apr, 24 2007 @ 03:03 PM
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Family court sux's.

I hate that a parent would ruin a child's upbringing just to get back at the other. Ask the Baldwin's.



posted on Apr, 29 2007 @ 07:25 AM
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Originally posted by Royal76
I went to visit my sister who is getting shipped to Japan for three years.


I was stationed in japan for three years. Camp Zama. Where's she going?

What (mildly) annoyed me today ... I had a chance to sleep late, which rarely happens, but I woke up hungry at 6:00 am and couldn't get back to sleep. So much for sleeping in.

Hey .. It's not much to add to your thread ... but it's something.



posted on Apr, 29 2007 @ 10:42 AM
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Today was great !

Yesterday, I was attacked out of the blue by a middle aged 'respectable thug' outside the supermarket.

My own fault: I was wearing a contented expression and I might even have been humming happily to myself.

Respectable-thugs are thugs who wear clean clothes, own nice homes and behave themselves when there are witnesses around.

This thug had a head like a half-eaten hamburger --- twisted and ugly from internal rage and red and pasty at the same time from congested arteries and bile. He thought he'd found himself a soft target: one who was oblivious to the thug's all-important angst .... and had the hide to be contentedly humming !

So he snarled something nasty to me and then waddled on his way, his skinny shins rattling along ridiculously below his huge, flapping shorts. He kept turning around to me. I saw his contorted mouth moving angrily.

I watched this apparition as I struggled to understand what he'd meant -- what his problem might be. He'd snarled: " It's a pity some people never learned how to count."

I'd just left the supermarket Express Lane (oxymoron if ever I heard one) where you're allowed 10 items or less. Shame on me. I'd had 11 ! Now that's a hanging offence, huh? THAT's sufficient reason to abuse a stranger!

Ah well. Hambuger Head strutted ahead of me. He kept looking back, his ghastly mouth still contorting. Probably hoping he'd rendered me shocked and bleeding on the pavement. How that would have solved HIS problems is a mystery known only to him. I mean why would a middle aged man with no hair and a protruding belly, no ass and skinny shanks --- wear his teenage son's low-rise long-shorts and sneakers? Whooooooo can say ?

So I turned right at the top of the walkway, as I always do. And of course, there was the Police Station, where it's always been. And there were two patrol cars, as per usual.

A short distance ahead of me, Hamburger Head nearly had a coronary ! He did a double take. Seemed to be making a 'swift decision' (but the blood was taking its time getting to his brain).

Then he suddenly BOLTED across to the other side of the road like a startled duck ! Ended up looking stunned and bewildered, outside the church. Then stood there, looking stupid and uncertain and watching me.

Suspecting he might be insane, I loitered outside the Police Station for safely, just in case he did something erratic.

And he did. He bolted back across the road, stared at me some more, then skittered in his sailing-ship shorts back to the alley-way leading to the supermarket entrance.

I stayed where I was. Because by this time I'd worked out that my proximity to the Police Station had alarmed old Hamburger Head. So I stayed and stayed.

Soon enough, Hamburger Head's head poked from around the corner of the building. He was seeing if I was still there. And of course I was.

Someone gave me some excellent advice a few years ago. I'd been living by the code of Turn the Other Cheek. No, no --- I was told --- you must learn to Give it Back to Those Who Do It To You.

Hamburger Head had dumped his horrid load on Happy Me. Now, I was Giving It Back to Hamburger Head. Clearly, he wanted me to move on -- away from the Police Station and Patrol cars. He was going to keep on stallling and running around until I did. But I wasn't going anywhere. Just stood happily humming, watching Hamburger Head becoming more and more desperate and idiotic.

Finally, Hamburger Head could stand it no more, or could wait no longer. He made a desperate rush towards me. And then jumped into the late model Mercedes parked ten feet in front of the Patrol cars. Ahhhh. So that's why he'd been stalling ---- he hadn't wanted me to know which car was his. He didn't want to be INDENTIFIED. No, he just wanted to abuse strangers and then walk away laughing.

Too bad for Hamburger Head, because now I memorised his licence number. And had the pleasure of seeing him being almost wiped out when he tried to hurriedly pull out from the kerb .... in front of an oncoming vehicle.

After he left, I made my way home, on foot, repeating his licence number to myself. I enjoyed the walk. But I had an oppressive feeling. Soon it was strong enough to pull me out of my happy little study of the flowers in peoples' gardens. The 'vibe' of Hamburger Head was again strong. So I told myself to be alert and keep an eye out for his car. But didn't see it. Got to the end of the road and turned right. Then almost immediately turned left, as usual, in order to cross the road at the zebra crossing.

Then another twenty feet left and into our private road. At that point, instinct suddenly made me turn 180 degrees --------- just in time to see Hamburger Head's white Mercedes, which had been behind me. He must have cursed the timing of it all, because there he was --- stuck at the intersection, unable to 'escape' ---- caught in the spotlight -- guilty of 'stalking' me to my home when by rights, he should have been a couple of kilometres in the other direction by this time.

So, after appearing to drive away earlier, he'd obviously turned around again and followed me down the road. Maybe he parked for a while and watched me, until I reached the end of the street. This must have been what alerted my instincts earlier.

What a psycho !

So, what annoyed me yesterday was this evidence of 'natural selection' in action: this evidence of alleged 'evolution'.

Out there somewhere is a pot-bellied, bald, middle-aged man wearing clothes 40 years too young for him, who one the one hand possesses the smarts or luck to have a late-model Mercedes -- yet who, on the other hand, flies into rages and stalks total strangers who have 'dared' to buy ONE EXTRA ITEM at a supermarket '10 Item Express Checkout' !

It's no effort at all to feel pity for the Hamburger Heads. But at the same time, they make you feel so incredibly weary of heart.



posted on Apr, 29 2007 @ 12:12 PM
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DOCK6 ..... OMG! That was unfreak'n believable!!!

Pardon my laughter but the way you told that story ... great!
I HOPE to goodness that you reported him. Seriously.



posted on Apr, 29 2007 @ 11:09 PM
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HI Flyers !

No, didn't report it.

Last time I reported something (a handwritten threat to 'Chop off Your Hands', penned by our psycho neighbour *because* I'd taken to feeding two starving cats who were rake-thin and it was middle of winter) ... the social-climbing recent-migrant-from-Pakistan-constable up at the local Police Station ended up phoning me and trying to convince me that I was in the Wrong.

This, despite that said psycho-neighbour's profile can be accessed via Google, where up pops a State government documents of some 17 pages, which details how said-neighbour harrassed and bullied a colleague to the extent he had a major heart attack in the workplace and had to be rushed to the emergency-ward. He survived but the government file lists three psychiatrists who testified at the Tribunal that the victim now suffered debilitating panic-attacks, PTSD, depression, lowered confidence and self-esteem --- which now prevent him not only from returning to his State government position but also from even working part time in the business he has owned for several years.

Psycho neighbour placed me sqarely in her sights the moment she first set eyes on me, seven years ago. By virtue of her State government employ, she usurped control of our residents-association (and, some would say, wrested control of the hundreds of thousands of dollars per annum which flows through the hands of said residents'-association). Money talks. Money buys acquiescence. And money and guilt-through-association undoubtedly portrayed itself to naive, social-climbing, newly arrived from Pakistan-constable as 'authority'.

Hence, when I made a copy of the threating " I Will Chop Off Your Hands" note and took it up to the local police (basically in order it would be noted and filed for future reference if needs be) -- the constable preferred the corrupt residents-association groups' version of events to mine and deemed that I should be nominated as the 'wrong' rather than 'wronged' party.

In short, the select, secretive, corrupt handful of ghouls who comprise the 'residents' association committee' and who were hand-picked by psycho-neighbour for their dishonesty, claimed to the boot-licking constable that they had been 'distressed' and 'upset' by the copies of the 'I Will Chop Off Your Hands' note which I'd delivered to all of them in order they could NOT claim to be unaware of the GRAVITY of the situation unfolding within our exclusive community. I mean when a woman who has already driven a co-worker to the verge of death via heart-attack and has driven four neighbours to hastily sell-up and depart within the same 12 month period next begins threatening to chop off her neighbour's hands (my hands) then surely it was time even the corrupt side-kicks of psycho-neighbour began rethinking their position and/or exerting some form of censure upon psycho-neighbour before it hit the evening news?

But no, the cowards kow-towed to psycho-neighbour's insistence that they flock immediately to the Police Station in a 'respectable' looking little group of grey-hairedness and propriety, to 'complain' that the INTENDED VICTIM of the threatening note had 'upset' them by INFORMING them of the heavy, felt-pen threat that had been NAILED to the victim's (my own) gate !

And the easily-swayed constable AGREED with this motley group of beige-cardigan-wearing thugs ---- and --- while they were present, phoned me to 'tell me off' for DARING to present copies of the threatening note to these self-claimed 'disturbed and upset' gang who were smiling approvingly upon him at that very moment, from the other side of the Police Station desk.

Saneness didn't enter the equation and I was unable to introduce one iota of it during the constable's diatribe.

Psycho-neighbour shortly afterwards cackled her way through a couple of bottles of cheap red and gave me the finger and a horrific 'winner's' grin across the fence.

Was the same when I was 'thugged' by the local Post Master for daring to complain when THREE open/tampered-with Registered Parcels were thrust at me with instructions that I sign for them. I stepped back, hands behind my back and declined not only to sign, but even to touch the parcels. They contained (or should have) numerous valuable jewellery items I'd purchased on Ebay. Add to this the fact that in the previous fortnight, I'd been handed two other previously-opened/tampered-with parcels by same Post Office staff.

I requested to speak to the Post Master. He appeared and demanded I sign for my items and basically, bugger-off. I declined and attempted to draw his attention to the ripped-open seal on the parcels. Once I signed for them, I explained (WHY did I NEED to explain to a POST MASTER???) I would have 'accepted' those torn packages and would afterwards have NO legal redress, should the valuable items be missing.

The Post Master threw a performance worthy of bad opera. He roared and tore around the Post Office: called me an 'idiot'. Then, before at least a dozen customers, said snidely: " Are you on drugs, perhaps? Have you been drinking? (he winked here to customers forced to being his captive audience) Do you have a history of mental instablility? "

Throughout, I repeated, in a normal pitch, that he summon either the Police or the Postal Service's Security Group. He refused. He also warned other post office staff to provide me no assistance.

I requested a clear plastic bag so that my tampered mail items could be placed in it, after which I would countersign the bag's seal with the Post Master. He refused in all instances.

He then appeared to relent and told me to follow him. I thought he was going to allow me to use a phone to summon the Police or the Security Group. But no. Once he'd pushed -- and I mean that literally -- through a maze of corridors, he half shoved me into a room (his office?) and began shouting at me to SIT DOWN ! SIT DOWN ! CALM DOWN! SIT DOWN NOW!

I told him to sit himself. I remained standing. He again attempted to push my tampered mail items into my hands. I backed away and advised him to summon the Police without further delay. He refused. Short back and sides, dyed black hair. Looked like an ex-cop. Pretty strong, despite the beer gut. Used to being obeyed. Furious because I would not.

I got away from that room, through the corridors and found myself on the staff-side of the main post-office counter. I asked staff to help me: to at least give me a plastic bag and counter sign it with me. They kept their heads down and ignored me. Post Master came roaring up behind me, hissing to his staff: ' You provide NOTHING ! NO-one is to be allowed to use these phones. You will NOT assist! Get about your business ! "

I ran to the customer side of the counter. I couldn't believe this was happening. Again, I asked one of the staff who looked half-decent, to hand me a simple plastic bag.

Teh Post Master ran around next to me, and then spread his feet wide apart and flung his hands into the air. " We have no plastic bags! " he yelled, grinning at the ceiling, " So help me ---- we have no plastic bags! "

That was it. The guy was nuts.

I reached onto a shelf and took a packet of plastic-sleeves. Tore one free. Dropped the mail items into it in front of everyone. Reached across the counter and grabbed a stapler. Stapled the bag. Asked a customer to go to the Police up the road and tell them they were needed down at the Post Office. Customer's eyes slid away from me. No help from anyone.

I waited. Didn't know what else to do. Knew once I left the Post Office with the bag, it was useless as evidence. Time ticked by. Staff were whispering and glaring. It felt like a nightmare.

Rant continued next post



I



posted on Apr, 29 2007 @ 11:58 PM
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Finally, with Closing Time drawing rapidly nearer, I considered what I should do. Should I stand my ground, even if the Post Office closed? Would that force the Post Master to summon the authorities -- ANY 'authorities', be that local police or the Security Group?

Or would it place me 'in the wrong' for refusing to leave a government office after it had closed?

The place was almost empty. The staff were clustered in a back room, emerging every now and then to s'n-word'.

I cracked. Decided any action was preferable to this.

Departed the post office, announcing as I left that I was going directly to the Police.

Hared up the road as fast as I could, stupidly holding the plastic bag of evidence out before me 'in clear sight' so that a witness or two might later be able to testify that it WAS in clear sight as I passed.

Stopped at the top of the road, deciding whether or not to go to a solicitor or to the Police Station. Decided the latter was the more 'correct' legally.

Entered the Police Station on the verge of heart-seizure: it was just touching 40 degrees celsius, humid, and the road to the Police Station had been uphill. And I'd been going like mad to get there in the least possible time.

The Police were so laid-back it was hilarious. Mostly, they were curious about why I'd buy anything on Ebay ! 20- somethings who gave me at least three stern warnings about the 'dangers' of buying online.

We checked the bag. Miraculously, the Art Deco, platinum and 13 diamonds ring was still inside, plus a few other things. Paid $53AU for that Art Deco ring: all old-cut diamonds. Recent insurance placed its value at $3,000AU plus. Yes, sergeant -- I figure buying on Ebay to be a calculated -- and often worthwhile -- risk.

Made a written, duly signed and dated statement of what had transpired at the Post Office. One of the policemen phoned the Post Master from the back of the room: lots of chuckles, and 'yeah, yeah, well, have a good night mate' noises. Guess the Post Master was known to the Police as a 'great guy'.

Was provided (upon request) an Incident Number. And then home.

Next day, phoned the head office of Postal Services and related the incident. A few 'tut tuts' and promises to 'look into it'.

I drafted a detailed email of the entire incident, including previously opened mail items two weeks earlier, re: which I'd completed a form *at* the same Post Office and been provided a Reference Number. It total, 5 of my Registered/Insured mail-items had been proferred to me by postal staff in tampered/previously-opened condition. This had followed intense questioning by a female postal staff-member shortly prior to the rash of tampered-mail .... concerning WHY I was purchasing so MANY Money Orders. Naive and stupid, I'd happily told her that I'd begun buying jewellery on Ebay. This immediately precipitated the rash of tampered/opened mail. Don't need to be a Rhodes scholar to connect the dots.

I sent email to the Minister whose portfolios included the Aussie Postal Services.

I DID receive a response from him ---- oh, it must have been 3 or 4 months later: a one-liner advising he'd instructed his staff to forward my complaint to the Postal Security group.

But, back to home. Three or four days after the incident at the Post Office, I was contacted by a female member of the Security group. She said they were understaffed and overworked and she MAY be able to 'get back to me' within a few weeks.

But, for some reason, she 'got back to me' only a day or so later. To advise me that she had 'investigated' my written, detailed, emailed complaints ---- and had concluded that the Post Master AND his staff .... 'had no case to answer' ? " The investigation is now closed.", she informed me.

" Investigation? WHAT 'investigation' ?" I asked. " Last I heard from you, you advised me NOT to touch my mail items, but to keep them under lock and key. You SAID you would come to my home to collect this evidence. Now you're claiming you've ALREADY concluded your investigation, yet you haven't SEEN the evidence, let alone subjected it to scrutiny. You haven't SPOKEN one word to me, or sought my version of events. HOW could you have 'investigated' this very serious breech of postal security? And HOW could you reach the conclusion the perpetrators are innocent?"

The Security Officer turned quite nasty and yelled to me a few times: "This investigation is closed. "

I asked HOW the investigation had been conducted.

Reply: " I asked the postal staff if they'd tampered with your mail at any time, and they all said 'no'. "

" Are you kidding me?"

Then ------- I heard the sound of laughing voices. I felt sick. I asked: "Are you there now --- at the Post Office? "

Grudging response: " So what if I am."

I couldn't believe it. She was WITH the postal-staff supposedly 'under investigation' and they could HEAR every word she was saying. She and they were BUDDIES, apparently.

Despondent but not down, I asked: " The staff's claims are worthless. What about the security videos? I saw at LEAST four in the main post office and there must have been others as the Post Master was pushing me through corridors. Have you examined the security videos? Have you watched how MANY times I asked him to follow procedure and summon the Security group? Did you SEE the Post Master standing with legs apart, arms in the air, screaming 'We have no plastic bags?' ? Have you watched the beginning of that situation, where I declined to accept what were clearly previously-opened mail items. The videos would surely have shown the packages were ripped and torn across the seals. And I still have those packages, complete with post office staples used to try to re-seal my items. How can you just take the staff's word for it, when the security tapes contradict those claims absolutely? "

" Our investigation has been concluded. We have no more to say to you."

And that was it. Months later, the useless Minister washed his hands of it by writing to say he'd 'forwarded' my complaint to teh appropriate department.

Only satisfaction to be gained from the fiasco was the fact that approx. one month to six weeks later ----- that post office became staffed by a completely new group of people. The old staff vanished.

The government at no time admitted any wrong-doing on the part of its public-service employees. Instead, whitewash, cover-up, denial. Transferred the corrupt staff elsewhere, no doubt. And staffed the place with shiny new faces.

Of course, I was on top of their sh*t-list. I was treated like garbage, as if I were the debil-incarnate. It's took well over a year of REALLY TRYING TO BE NICE and LIKEABLE, before a few of them were prepared to return my smiles. There must be a memo in the staff room, with my name on it. They of course know my name. I am the bad-guy in town: the one who 'caused problems' for the previous staff. I am thus 'wrong' and to be treated coldly and forced to hurry, to grab my change and disappear into the floor so they can serve the next person, with noticeably warm smiles.

The postal workers union is Powerful ! They're touchy. They're sensitive to criticism. Politicians and heads of departments know better than to even mildly criticise postal workers, or before you can count to ten --- there's a nationwide 'postal strike' ( spells death 4 politicians). The public and its rights will always rank low on the ladder in such a corrupt environment.

The police likewise bow before groups of seemingly 'respectable' authority figures when they claim, en masse, to be 'disturbed and upset'.

So, with burning issues of injustice & government corruption rankling, I discovered forums. And thanks to them, am regaining my sense of humour, 'fighting for justice in a virtual world'. Shame justice isn't reflected in the 'real' one.

Thanks for letting me rant.



posted on Apr, 30 2007 @ 12:08 AM
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Incidentally, in the above post I wrote:

The place was almost empty. The staff were clustered in a back room, emerging every now and then to s'n-word'.


The word which was automatically censored as 's'n-word' was actually
' s -n-i-g-g-e-r ', meaning to 'scoff', 'laugh disparagingly at', etc.



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