I’m Just Saying.

So, that rant… it ain’t over, folks. Part 2 of a rant that’s been building up within me for a while and this sunny afternoon, i let the vitriol roll…

1. You remember the years and eons we spent drawing up deadlines and colour coordinating them and getting them ratified and having them rubberstamped, licked by seals or whatever the fuck it is we needed to do? Yeah? You see the trashcan? That’s you putting them in there. Not me. So, quit whining and help out. Thanks thanks.

2. To the cashier at the Spar this morning. Kak. Stories. Did you die, reincarnate and are now only equipped with one working digit and a molested braincell? Is swiping my Super M’s over the ray-ray thing and having it go bleep thaaat fucking hard? It is? Oh right. Cool. Well, whilst you’re really busy doing that, and I’m really busy trying not to smack you right into a coma for being a fucking numbnut, how ’bout you remember that eggs.are.fragile. Chipper? Got it? Kiff. ‘Cause I ain’t paying for those that you chucked down the chutey-chute thing to get them into a packet, yo. Oh, and yes, your Snoop Doggy Dog-esque haircut? Yeah, the one with the braids. Dude. Braids.Are.For.Girls. Get over yourself, yo.

3. Yeah. You singing loudly… It does irk me. Alot. Yes, sure, your mama once said you “had a voice of an angel”. Reality check, oke. Your mama is a deaf mute. Chippers!

4. You don’t like my swearing? Oh, I apologise. Dost my foul mouth make your flaking ears bleed? Oh, it’s unnecessary. I’ll show you unnecessary, oke. I’ll show you how unnecessary my middle finger is. ^!^

5. Pardon? Sorry? You want me to move out your way because you’re trying to walk past me? Okay, dude who clearly is blind. That must suck being blind, I’m sorry. Oh, you’re not? Great. Because, if you’re not, then you’ll be able to see, quite clearly, that I’m standing here, holding approximately 65 kilograms of baggage, a three-year old and my 7AM sanity, just intact. So, no, oke, I ain’t moving over. There’s a whole fucking planet of sidewalk if you just hit a little lefty there. See it? Great. Fuck off, then.

6. So, you went to KFC. Whilst you were there, you completely forgot who the fuck I am and what I believe in and you clearly forgot about the great big KFC CRUELTY poster on my office wall. Right, Right. Okay, so when you CAME BACK and walked into my office bearing me “a thank you present” of dead slaughtered hormone-filled rounder, you thought you were doing a super thing? Right. Thanks. Clearly, you need that billboard or maybe you just need to take your loudly-masticating head out of that there Family Feast Bucket.

7. Nort. Your obnoxiously loud concert does not make me want to “join in the jol”. It makes me want to smack your head in with a brick… But, hey, if smacking your head in with a brick IS your idea of a “jol” then, hecks, I’m keen. Keeping my child up way past her bedtime with your incessant uumtiss uumtiss tikka tikka breyani vleis choons did not make me smile. Eskom, please, if a power cut was ever a good idea, last night woulda been a super time.. I’m just saying.

Happy Friday everyone. And remember, don’t let the idiots get you down