Leela is ready to beat down some civilians.
I asked Charlene if I would sound like a whiny asshole if I reblogged that with the shit I added, and she said “Kinda. But you sound like a whiny asshole with a point.”
So there you go.
Sorry, I don’t mean to sound like a whiny asshole… it just really annoyed the fucking shit out of me.
Oh yeah? This is cute!
My own thoughts didn’t stab me in the back multiple times with a screwdriver, or choke me out in the hall, or slam me into lockers. My own thoughts didn’t knock shit out of my hands. My thoughts didn’t punch the bus window while I rested my head on it leaving me concussed… I was thinking the bus was a safe place for me after school while all the other kids waited until last minute to get on. I could get a seat closest to the front that way. My own thoughts didn’t backhand my balls while I stood in a hall waiting for the teacher to open up the classroom after lunch. My own thoughts didn’t smack the back of my head while I rode the bus or taunt me from across the street on the walk home from the bus stop. My thoughts weren’t the ones leaving bruises on my body from being “pinched”… they also didn’t leave the emotional scars I come to terms with having over the last 6 years. When a girl pretended to like me and then laughed at me with her friend because I was happy to hear something like that from someone I had a crush on, it wasn’t my own thoughts. My own thoughts didn’t leave me finding a new lunch table to sit at every day because I didn’t know who was going to flip my tray on me that day. It wasn’t my own thoughts that would slam into me as I sat on the bus and would throw an occasional elbow my way while I just waited to get off. It wasn’t my thoughts that cornered me in stairwells or empty classrooms threatening me. My own thoughts may have made things a bit worse for me and my bullying situation when I was younger… because I didn’t allow my thoughts to stay bottled up… and I’d fight back as best I could, which for me was laying verbal assaults on my tormentors… something they couldn’t handle. If anything my own thoughts made me stronger. They made me understand that people cannot be trusted. That you can never really have true friendship because maybe you’re not good enough. But I am wiser and stronger because of them. My own thoughts were my salvation at times. My thoughts would keep me going until I could get home and lock myself in my room where I’d watch horror movies, enjoy hockey games, read books and magazines, and listen to music. My thoughts helped me pretend everything at school was okay when I was around my two friends on my street, both 3 years younger than me, so maybe they’d continue to think I was okay to hang out with… and it helped me lie to my parents about what I dealt with. You get the point.
My thoughts are: fuck the original poster of this. But I guess you needed something “profound” to say on Tumblr, eh?
I own so much Ramones shit it’s ridiculous.
I watched the video of the father destroying his son’s video games… it was everything I hoped it would be. It was just glorious. The fit he threw was amazing… the screaming, the crying, the pleading… I loved it. I hate gamers so much, so it was great to watch.
Why do I hate gamers?
When Charlene and I lived in Pittsburgh we had the pleasure of living below a gamer. For those not aware, a gamer is a person with a mental illness which requires that they play video games all the time. Our neighbor was very ill, so he had to have surround sound in his bedroom for these games as well as a headset that he would scream into. It also means he would throw things, stomp like a maniac and last but not least, he would curse loud and often. I don’t know his entire life, but judging by what I heard upstairs he seemed to be a student and possibly worked part time. When he was in his apartment he would go directly to his bedroom (which was right above ours) and begin fighting forces of evil, which, I will tell you, he was not very good at… thus the throwing/stomping/cursing. He screamed and shouted every excuse for not being able to pass levels (is that a thing?) and why his life in the game would always be so low, and why he would always die.
I would have hear this shit 24/7 unless I was at work. Charlene unfortunately had to deal with it while she is trying to sleep. When we first moved in we heard what we thought was arguing (lol), and the AC in our place would drown out most of the noise from his speakers. But then summer turned to winter, we had no use for the AC because weather is going from one extreme to another, we then had to hear “Game Boy” or “Donkey Kong” do the same.
One day it came to a boil when we were able to hear his speakers coming from his bedroom in our living room. Now we had a pretty big apartment, so for us to be able to hear that… it was LOUD. Thankfully Charlene did not have to get up at 4:45 a.m. that week since she had no clinicals for school. But we didn’t want it going on on days she would have to wake up. Then we thought “maybe he doesn’t realize it… let’s tap the ceiling to give him a heads up (instead of going upstairs at 1:30 a.m.)” After one hit there was no change. A minute later Charlene did it again. That was followed by BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM which shook our light fixtures, and was something our neighbors downstairs heard. It even shook their lights. So I went to this jackasses door and pounded on it with no plans to do anything other than ask him what the hell his deal is, and tell him some of the things you’ll read later. He didn’t answer. But Charlene said she heard him talking (I guess on his headset) and he said “he’s at the door, I may have to contact the authorities”.
The following day Charlene calls the landlord, they sent him a letter and said to call back if there was no change.
There was no change.
In some ways it got worse. Example: he would leave his music on all night while he would go out, when his file would skip we would hear the same beat for about 3 of the 10 hours. We let the noise go for another week figuring that he may not check his mail box daily, or even weekly. So one day… video games on ALL NIGHT. Explosions! Gun fire! Tanks! Planes! Cursing and whining because “THAT’S NOT FAIR!” “THAT’S BULLSHIT!” “YOU SHOULDN’T BE ABLE TO DO THAT!” “WHERE THE FUCK ARE THE COMING FROM!?” This fucker was a hardcore gamer, and he SUCKED at these games. He was constantly dying. Anyway, Charlene calls the landlord one day, and apparently they spoke directly to him because when he got home at 11:30 Charlene was studying in the bedroom and hears him yelling and whining (seriously he whines) that “I pay $775 a month, I should be able to make as much noise as I want whenever I want!” The logic of a spoiled fucking brat. Once he was off the phone it got louder. The explosions and guns were louder, and the curses and stomping were worse than they’ve ever been at night. This went on until about 2:30 or so. Now Charlene was waking up a little later (6:30) but still, we should not have to listen to that at that hour. What I don’t get is he has the same set up as us, it’s big. He occupies the master bedroom and that is IT. The only time he hear him stomp to other rooms is when he’s going to the kitchen, and then he’s out of there very quickly. It just seems like a lot of wasted space to me. Anyway, we spoke to the landlord again, and things got better. I wanted to slip a letter under this piece of shit’s door, but Char felt it would give him leverage if he were to ever show it to the landlord. So here’s the letter I wrote.
Dearest Game Boy,
I just wanted to let you know, we’re going to call the landlord again about the noise. In the summer our AC drowns a lot of your stupidity out, but now that we don’t use it we hear you all the time. We tried ignoring it, and then we banged on the ceiling to give you a heads up since you’re clearly too dumb to realize how loud you are. So what do you do? Stomp back so loud that the people on the first floor heard it. Don’t get me wrong, I think it is HILARIOUS that you are so simple minded that video games set you off and cause you to whine, cry, throw and slam things. The problem is, I don’t want to hear it. I will suggest two things to you:
1) See a psychologist for your mental illness.
2) Play video games that you don’t suck at.
I did not sign the above letter in any way.
Now everyone keep in mind, he isn’t the only neighbor we’ve heard that has lived above us. We lived in another place before this and never had problems with people like this. This isn’t talking, walking around, music during normal hours, or anything else that can be expect when you live below someone that is pissing us off… it is someone acting like a fucking animal. I stopped sleeping in our bedroom at one point and I would sleep in the guest bedroom or the living room!
Sometimes I wish I was a violent person.
I wish my inlaws would do this with my BIL’s computer and games…
Justice is served.
"Raphael’s got the most attitude on the team"
TMNT 2K12: Character Traits (2/4)
Easily the best of the four.