Vent and Post Your Random Rant Here

Ninjastix

The Fat Mamba
Site Donor
Joined
Aug 27, 2008
Location
Raleigh
Keep us updated bro.
Well I can say that if anyone of you are in a similar position and are given the option to have the surrounding skin shaved or cut (with stitching), consider the cut option. I have a feeling the reduced surface area and you know.. overall lack of an open shallow wound simply moisturized with Vaseline is likely the superior choice.

This fucking sucks bro. It feels like a little Keebler Elf is branding me without having the strength to apply even pressure.. CONSTANTLY. The first 11 hours or so of pain were cute. But now it's getting quite bothersome. Especially since I sleep on my left side and when I lie that way it's like lying on a tiny bed of hot nails.

Should of went with the football cut. Fucking hindsight.
 

Anchorpunch

Well-Known Member
Site Donor
Joined
Nov 29, 2014
Just got off the phone of someone I let go of at a bank and then who just got fired from our hedge fund. I'm probably going out too, and damn, I understand the kind of self doubt and self criticism this guy going through.
 

FrankieButNotEdgar

Well-Known Member
Site Donor
Joined
Aug 27, 2008
I'm going through something similar with a customer. I have a strict no refunds policy to eliminate people renting phones for the weekend type of shit. It happens, trust me. If a customer has a problem with a device they buy from me, we will gladly replace it or fix the problem. We only issue refunds if we can't either fix it or replace it which almost never happens. We can do one or the other 99 percent of the time.

Anyway, this chick bought a phone a couple weeks ago and she has a shitty carrier with shitty customer service. The phone is unlocked so she can use it on her carrier or she can switch it to another carrier. I showed her on the website of her company where she can get the SIM card she needs for her phone and that the phone is compatible with her service. She goes to a store, gets the wrong SIM card, it won't work in the phone and she wants to return the phone. I spend a half hour on the phone with the customer service number of her carrier to help her rectify the issue. The rep clearly tells her the phone is compatible but she has the wrong SIM card. She insists on returning the phone and getting her money back saying it's too much of a headache for her. Excuse the fuck out of me. I didn't realize you buying the wrong SIM card was my fault. I didn't realize that your carrier giving you the wrong SIM card was my fault. I CLEARLY showed her where to get the correct SIM card at time of purchase.

Another week passes by and I get another call from her. Her carrier is still giving her the run around and she threatens to call the police on me. The police will only tell her it's a civil matter and to take me to court, where she will lose because her carrier being a pain in her ass isn't covered under the return policy. The return policy is clearly stated on the receipt, it's clearly displayed in my store and it's clearly explained in person at the time of purchase. I've offered to exchange the phone for the same model but she said, "none of your phones will work for me." So all of a sudden my phones won't work for her carrier despite the fact that I have her carrier's bring your own device page bookmarked on my laptop and run these serial numbers before purchase. Some people can't be helped and can't get out of their own way.
 

FrankieButNotEdgar

Well-Known Member
Site Donor
Joined
Aug 27, 2008
This isn't a rant but it's about the only place I can say what I'm about to say and since I started this thread, Ill leave it right here.

My dad died this afternoon. There's more to it than just losing a parent. This story is a lot more complicated.

My dad was a career drunk and drug addict most of his life. He couldn't read, didn't pay taxes, was a womanizer and an abuser in his younger years. I day dreamed about him dying most of my childhood. I sometimes hate the person I am mentally because I was shaped by the way he treated me. I don't have many fond memories of him in the slightest bit.

On the flip side of all that, my dad could read a blueprint and build almost any structure from the ground up. He was a contractor in his younger years before selling all of his possessions to support his cocaine habit. That's something no one could ever take away from him, his ability to read a blueprint and build something from nothing. He was also one of the funniest people you would ever meet. His wit was so quick and instant. I didn't get to see it much because he was drunk most of the time but on the few occasions he was sober, man, the dude was something else. Incredibly funny.

I have so many terrible memories. I lived in fear most of my life. I still dream about it to this day. I'm so fucked up because of him. But he's my dad, ya' know.

My sister never got it the way my mom and I did. She was special or something to him because he didn't do to her the things he did to us.

So through the years as my dad got older and hit rock bottom over and over, my sister was the one to pick up the pieces. When he was sober, he would live with her. He would take off for weeks at a time to go stay with these shithead people he called friends, getting blackout drunk or whatever he would do. When he had had enough or ran out of money, he would go back to my sisters for a few days or a week until he could do it all over again.

I would see him several times a year at family functions over the last couple years. It was weird seeing him, a shell of who he used to be but it was pleasant. He would always ask me when I was going to take him out on my boat. I never did. I actually would have liked to but he wouldn't stay sober long enough to make it a reality. He thought the world of my 12 year old daughter. He didn't even know my boy's names from occasion to occasion, he would just forget. The funny thing about that is my son's name is Coy. His father's name is Coy. He named me Coy. How do you not remember that your grandson is named after your son who is named after your father?

Speaking of that, after all the hurt and pain, I have to remember that he too was shaped by his childhood. His father was murdered by the KKK when he was 7 years old. They left him dead in a ditch. His mother was a church going woman but she also sold cocaine, as did a lot of the family, according to my ol' man. He had a felony by the time he was 13 after he derailed a train. He stole a bunch of guns from a pawn shop in an insurance scam by the owner. He did serious prison time for that. Then I was born. His whole life was pain. So he turned to the bottle and never let it go.

I feel sorry for him in the end. I regret not having more of a relationship with him in the end. I wonder to myself if I could have done more to get him sober. I wonder if he turned further to the bottle because he felt like I hated him. I did, for many years. I don't anymore. I wanted him to have a relationship with his grandkids, with me.

About a month ago, my sister called me and told me he was in bad shape. She went to see him and said he was talking crazy, acting like he didn't know what was going on in the world. She called 911 and pleaded with them to hospitalize him. She thought he was on a bender. For 3 days, no one did anything to help him because we assumed he was on a bender. I didn't even pick up the phone to talk to him. After 3 days, she finally was able to get him hospitalized. Turns out, he wasn't drunk. He was septic. He has a stomach infection that was so bad that he turned septic. He had internal bleeding and his intestines were rotting. He was in and out of a coma for the past month. He developed pneumonia and blood clots in his lungs. This is all information I found out in the last couple days. I didn't go to the hospital any because he was unconscious. He wouldn't have known I was there. I assumed he would get better and that my sister and I could talk some sense into him finally. He took a massive turn for the worst and is gone. I was supposed to go to the hospital tonight.

He wanted to be cremated. My sister doesn't want to do that. I know for a fact he didn't want to be put into the ground. He always said take the money you would spend burying me and have a party and just burn my ass. He would always laugh about it.

My sister is crushed. I'm upset, have a lot of regret but I'm doing okay. It makes me want to be a better father. I don't want to end up dying in a hospital alone with my children being so bitter they don't come visit me.
 

Poindexter

Reputation: ∞
Staff member
Joined
Aug 26, 2008
Location
The Abyss
This isn't a rant but it's about the only place I can say what I'm about to say and since I started this thread, Ill leave it right here.

My dad died this afternoon. There's more to it than just losing a parent. This story is a lot more complicated.

My dad was a career drunk and drug addict most of his life. He couldn't read, didn't pay taxes, was a womanizer and an abuser in his younger years. I day dreamed about him dying most of my childhood. I sometimes hate the person I am mentally because I was shaped by the way he treated me. I don't have many fond memories of him in the slightest bit.

On the flip side of all that, my dad could read a blueprint and build almost any structure from the ground up. He was a contractor in his younger years before selling all of his possessions to support his cocaine habit. That's something no one could ever take away from him, his ability to read a blueprint and build something from nothing. He was also one of the funniest people you would ever meet. His wit was so quick and instant. I didn't get to see it much because he was drunk most of the time but on the few occasions he was sober, man, the dude was something else. Incredibly funny.

I have so many terrible memories. I lived in fear most of my life. I still dream about it to this day. I'm so fucked up because of him. But he's my dad, ya' know.

My sister never got it the way my mom and I did. She was special or something to him because he didn't do to her the things he did to us.

So through the years as my dad got older and hit rock bottom over and over, my sister was the one to pick up the pieces. When he was sober, he would live with her. He would take off for weeks at a time to go stay with these shithead people he called friends, getting blackout drunk or whatever he would do. When he had had enough or ran out of money, he would go back to my sisters for a few days or a week until he could do it all over again.

I would see him several times a year at family functions over the last couple years. It was weird seeing him, a shell of who he used to be but it was pleasant. He would always ask me when I was going to take him out on my boat. I never did. I actually would have liked to but he wouldn't stay sober long enough to make it a reality. He thought the world of my 12 year old daughter. He didn't even know my boy's names from occasion to occasion, he would just forget. The funny thing about that is my son's name is Coy. His father's name is Coy. He named me Coy. How do you not remember that your grandson is named after your son who is named after your father?

Speaking of that, after all the hurt and pain, I have to remember that he too was shaped by his childhood. His father was murdered by the KKK when he was 7 years old. They left him dead in a ditch. His mother was a church going woman but she also sold cocaine, as did a lot of the family, according to my ol' man. He had a felony by the time he was 13 after he derailed a train. He stole a bunch of guns from a pawn shop in an insurance scam by the owner. He did serious prison time for that. Then I was born. His whole life was pain. So he turned to the bottle and never let it go.

I feel sorry for him in the end. I regret not having more of a relationship with him in the end. I wonder to myself if I could have done more to get him sober. I wonder if he turned further to the bottle because he felt like I hated him. I did, for many years. I don't anymore. I wanted him to have a relationship with his grandkids, with me.

About a month ago, my sister called me and told me he was in bad shape. She went to see him and said he was talking crazy, acting like he didn't know what was going on in the world. She called 911 and pleaded with them to hospitalize him. She thought he was on a bender. For 3 days, no one did anything to help him because we assumed he was on a bender. I didn't even pick up the phone to talk to him. After 3 days, she finally was able to get him hospitalized. Turns out, he wasn't drunk. He was septic. He has a stomach infection that was so bad that he turned septic. He had internal bleeding and his intestines were rotting. He was in and out of a coma for the past month. He developed pneumonia and blood clots in his lungs. This is all information I found out in the last couple days. I didn't go to the hospital any because he was unconscious. He wouldn't have known I was there. I assumed he would get better and that my sister and I could talk some sense into him finally. He took a massive turn for the worst and is gone. I was supposed to go to the hospital tonight.

He wanted to be cremated. My sister doesn't want to do that. I know for a fact he didn't want to be put into the ground. He always said take the money you would spend burying me and have a party and just burn my ass. He would always laugh about it.

My sister is crushed. I'm upset, have a lot of regret but I'm doing okay. It makes me want to be a better father. I don't want to end up dying in a hospital alone with my children being so bitter they don't come visit me.
I'm sorry to hear this Coy. I hope you and your family are okay. Loss of a parent is incredibly difficult, and usually conflicted, and you were given an impossible situation you didn't deserve and lived through it. I hope you can find some peace.
 

disposableassassin

Mutatis Mutandis
Site Donor
Joined
Aug 14, 2014
Location
A vending machine
This isn't a rant but it's about the only place I can say what I'm about to say and since I started this thread, Ill leave it right here.

My dad died this afternoon. There's more to it than just losing a parent. This story is a lot more complicated.

My dad was a career drunk and drug addict most of his life. He couldn't read, didn't pay taxes, was a womanizer and an abuser in his younger years. I day dreamed about him dying most of my childhood. I sometimes hate the person I am mentally because I was shaped by the way he treated me. I don't have many fond memories of him in the slightest bit.

On the flip side of all that, my dad could read a blueprint and build almost any structure from the ground up. He was a contractor in his younger years before selling all of his possessions to support his cocaine habit. That's something no one could ever take away from him, his ability to read a blueprint and build something from nothing. He was also one of the funniest people you would ever meet. His wit was so quick and instant. I didn't get to see it much because he was drunk most of the time but on the few occasions he was sober, man, the dude was something else. Incredibly funny.

I have so many terrible memories. I lived in fear most of my life. I still dream about it to this day. I'm so fucked up because of him. But he's my dad, ya' know.

My sister never got it the way my mom and I did. She was special or something to him because he didn't do to her the things he did to us.

So through the years as my dad got older and hit rock bottom over and over, my sister was the one to pick up the pieces. When he was sober, he would live with her. He would take off for weeks at a time to go stay with these shithead people he called friends, getting blackout drunk or whatever he would do. When he had had enough or ran out of money, he would go back to my sisters for a few days or a week until he could do it all over again.

I would see him several times a year at family functions over the last couple years. It was weird seeing him, a shell of who he used to be but it was pleasant. He would always ask me when I was going to take him out on my boat. I never did. I actually would have liked to but he wouldn't stay sober long enough to make it a reality. He thought the world of my 12 year old daughter. He didn't even know my boy's names from occasion to occasion, he would just forget. The funny thing about that is my son's name is Coy. His father's name is Coy. He named me Coy. How do you not remember that your grandson is named after your son who is named after your father?

Speaking of that, after all the hurt and pain, I have to remember that he too was shaped by his childhood. His father was murdered by the KKK when he was 7 years old. They left him dead in a ditch. His mother was a church going woman but she also sold cocaine, as did a lot of the family, according to my ol' man. He had a felony by the time he was 13 after he derailed a train. He stole a bunch of guns from a pawn shop in an insurance scam by the owner. He did serious prison time for that. Then I was born. His whole life was pain. So he turned to the bottle and never let it go.

I feel sorry for him in the end. I regret not having more of a relationship with him in the end. I wonder to myself if I could have done more to get him sober. I wonder if he turned further to the bottle because he felt like I hated him. I did, for many years. I don't anymore. I wanted him to have a relationship with his grandkids, with me.

About a month ago, my sister called me and told me he was in bad shape. She went to see him and said he was talking crazy, acting like he didn't know what was going on in the world. She called 911 and pleaded with them to hospitalize him. She thought he was on a bender. For 3 days, no one did anything to help him because we assumed he was on a bender. I didn't even pick up the phone to talk to him. After 3 days, she finally was able to get him hospitalized. Turns out, he wasn't drunk. He was septic. He has a stomach infection that was so bad that he turned septic. He had internal bleeding and his intestines were rotting. He was in and out of a coma for the past month. He developed pneumonia and blood clots in his lungs. This is all information I found out in the last couple days. I didn't go to the hospital any because he was unconscious. He wouldn't have known I was there. I assumed he would get better and that my sister and I could talk some sense into him finally. He took a massive turn for the worst and is gone. I was supposed to go to the hospital tonight.

He wanted to be cremated. My sister doesn't want to do that. I know for a fact he didn't want to be put into the ground. He always said take the money you would spend burying me and have a party and just burn my ass. He would always laugh about it.

My sister is crushed. I'm upset, have a lot of regret but I'm doing okay. It makes me want to be a better father. I don't want to end up dying in a hospital alone with my children being so bitter they don't come visit me.
Stay strong. You are a good person. You seem like a dedicated father and husband as well. You are not your father and you are far better than what you could have been given the circumstances. I feel sympathy for both your father and your family.

My family and i have been through something of that nature as well. If you want to talk feel free to send me a message any time.
 

FrankieButNotEdgar

Well-Known Member
Site Donor
Joined
Aug 27, 2008
I met my mom and sister at the funeral home tonight to make arrangements. We don’t want any of his “friends” involved. The only people we invited are his brother and sister and their kids. I invited my childhood best friend because he was around most of my teen years and knew my dad pretty well during that time. It wasn’t all bad I guess.

They let us see him. He looked peaceful. I hope his pain is over and he’s found peace. It doesn’t feel real.
 

Ninjastix

The Fat Mamba
Site Donor
Joined
Aug 27, 2008
Location
Raleigh
That's a horrible situation, you have my sympathy. I can't understand turning your back on kids. I just can't but addiction reminds me that we don't have the kind of control we'd like to be believe we have, but we damn sure have the responsibility. Sad to hear the pain you endured, it makes us who we are though and you have kids that you can be a proper Father to and channel that pain into love.

Rip to your Dad. We can't be too mad at him because we wouldn't have known you otherwise.
 

Kano

My New Challenge
Site Donor
Joined
Dec 3, 2014
Location
Icebox of the Nation
Example 1: weak rant

I feel like you don't understand the meaning of rant.
Example 2: much better rant

It is a bunch of bullshit that people do not understand the meaning of rant!!! How hard is it? I mean it is a simple word. Google exists. Why do you not understand?!? Willfull ignorance i tell ya.

/rant
 

Anchorpunch

Well-Known Member
Site Donor
Joined
Nov 29, 2014
First they closed the division. Then they said we were fine. Today I learned my entire group (including me) is gone. Was supposed to have a call with HR to learn the details, but they disappeared on me so far. Assholes.
 

Kevo

SMOKE BOMB!
Joined
Feb 1, 2010
Location
Evanston
First they closed the division. Then they said we were fine. Today I learned my entire group (including me) is gone. Was supposed to have a call with HR to learn the details, but they disappeared on me so far. Assholes.
Cowards. Sorry dude.
 

Poindexter

Reputation: ∞
Staff member
Joined
Aug 26, 2008
Location
The Abyss
First they closed the division. Then they said we were fine. Today I learned my entire group (including me) is gone. Was supposed to have a call with HR to learn the details, but they disappeared on me so far. Assholes.
That’s fucked. Sorry man.
 

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Two weeks down of my new job. Glad it’s Friday. Hope all you guys are well.

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