Seriously WTF is up with superglue? I can't seem to own a bottle for longer than 3 weeks before the whole thing glues itself together! Turn the lid and the whole nozzle comes off! Its only a ploy to get me to buy more! In my whole life I have never been able use a complete bottle before the whole thing is fucked. I know there are more important thing to rant about (Libya, Robert Mugabe or the new Austrian Pervert who likes to keep it in the family) but this just pisses me off!
I suppose its just another case of a crap design to make sure customers keep buying it over and over again even though there is plenty more in the bottle, I just can't get the fucker out! I reckon (probably incorrectly) that I have probably bought 20 litres of superglue in the last 20 years and only managed to use 200ml. Is it too much too ask that someone comes up with a bottle that doesn't get fucked up after 10 uses? I'm probably pissing in the wind here but if everyone in the world stood up and said no to these bottles, something would be done.
I have decided to rank my peevs in order of annoyingness as I blog so here they go:
1) Banks and bankers (greedy ones of course).
2) Superglue bottle manufacturers (I just can't blame superglue).
At the moment my list is a top two, but I am an extremely intolerant person so that list will engorge itself soon, oh yes it will!
Saturday, August 27, 2011
Friday, June 24, 2011
My First Rant
Well this is my first smash the world and create a utopian paradise type society thing. I used to put all my anger into myspace but it simply can't take my issue anymore. The wuss.
Rather than put everybody off my blog straight away by mentioning the banks in the heading I have resisted and put them 3 lines down. Ha ha! THE BANKS!!! Well I'm not going to go on about what a bunch of cunts they are because of the lying and cheating and their out and out greed that has put everyone on a total downer. Thats too easy and probably been done before so I'm going to whine like a bitch about my own personal not-very-global experience.
At my place of work (can't mention it as my company has global non disclosure of anything that may or may not be harmful to the company's squeaky clean image) I am the chairman of the Sports & Social Club (or S.S. for short). Its not that I'm a total bad vibe merchant with a megalomaniacal tendencies, its just no-one else wanted the gig at the time.
So anyway we had to get a new signatory on the S.S. chequebook due to maternity leave and thats where the bullshit began. To get another name on the list we ALL had to renew our details, even those who hadn't changed them in the last 4 years. I'm a reasonably clued up sort of guy so I know its a utility bill and photo I.D that i need to bring in.
Attempt 1.
I go in with passport and and electricity bill. No good. The bill was 'too old'. Tossers.
Attempt 2.
I go in with passport and 3 week old refuse collection bill. No good. "We don't accept that type of bill. We do accept bank statements." I reply "You and all your kind (bankers) in an attempt to tug at the heartstrings of bleeding heart liberals -and to maximise profits- don't send out statements to 'save the fucking rainforests'!" Or words to that effect with less cursing. Cunts.
Attempt 3.
I didn't even go in I rang them up from work with passport and a statement from my mortgage lender (the same breed of bank I'm trying to get sorted with) which has my address and account number. No good. After an exhaustive conversation about why they can't take it and reiterating my bank statement jibe, Audrey the bank teller agreed to take my P60 as proof of my address (after much consultation with other bank monkeys while I listened to plinky plonky shit music over the phone). Wankers.
Attempt 4 .
Success! my p60 and passport were accepted even though I pointed out the the p60 was actually older than my original electricity bill. Ican only wonder that if the were such nazis about lending money to greedy property developers then the world banking system wouldn't be so fucked up right now. Pricks.
So there you have it my first bitch about stuff which may or may not become a regular thing depending on how shit my life goes. i may create another blog called Happy Things Happen To Happy people or something, but who is going to want to read that?
Rather than put everybody off my blog straight away by mentioning the banks in the heading I have resisted and put them 3 lines down. Ha ha! THE BANKS!!! Well I'm not going to go on about what a bunch of cunts they are because of the lying and cheating and their out and out greed that has put everyone on a total downer. Thats too easy and probably been done before so I'm going to whine like a bitch about my own personal not-very-global experience.
At my place of work (can't mention it as my company has global non disclosure of anything that may or may not be harmful to the company's squeaky clean image) I am the chairman of the Sports & Social Club (or S.S. for short). Its not that I'm a total bad vibe merchant with a megalomaniacal tendencies, its just no-one else wanted the gig at the time.
So anyway we had to get a new signatory on the S.S. chequebook due to maternity leave and thats where the bullshit began. To get another name on the list we ALL had to renew our details, even those who hadn't changed them in the last 4 years. I'm a reasonably clued up sort of guy so I know its a utility bill and photo I.D that i need to bring in.
Attempt 1.
I go in with passport and and electricity bill. No good. The bill was 'too old'. Tossers.
Attempt 2.
I go in with passport and 3 week old refuse collection bill. No good. "We don't accept that type of bill. We do accept bank statements." I reply "You and all your kind (bankers) in an attempt to tug at the heartstrings of bleeding heart liberals -and to maximise profits- don't send out statements to 'save the fucking rainforests'!" Or words to that effect with less cursing. Cunts.
Attempt 3.
I didn't even go in I rang them up from work with passport and a statement from my mortgage lender (the same breed of bank I'm trying to get sorted with) which has my address and account number. No good. After an exhaustive conversation about why they can't take it and reiterating my bank statement jibe, Audrey the bank teller agreed to take my P60 as proof of my address (after much consultation with other bank monkeys while I listened to plinky plonky shit music over the phone). Wankers.
Attempt 4 .
Success! my p60 and passport were accepted even though I pointed out the the p60 was actually older than my original electricity bill. Ican only wonder that if the were such nazis about lending money to greedy property developers then the world banking system wouldn't be so fucked up right now. Pricks.
So there you have it my first bitch about stuff which may or may not become a regular thing depending on how shit my life goes. i may create another blog called Happy Things Happen To Happy people or something, but who is going to want to read that?
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