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Better late than never. This one really makes my blood churn. Go ahead and try telling an expectant mother in the latter part of her 9th month of pregnancy that it’s “better late than never”. I have a feeling that if the psychosis of an elongated pregnancy hasn’t rendered her incapable of simply telling you to get fucked, she’d gladly beat you senseless with a fucking tire iron. Try sharing this expression with a wrongfully accused prison inmate who’s been serving time on death row for being accused of impaling his neighbor with an iron spike. Ten times out of ten you’ll find yourself bleeding on the floor from either a stab wound or a forced ass fucking.
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What’s your sign? Anyone who takes astrology seriously can blow me. We’re talking about a form of philosophical science that originated in the time of the Romans, and is as outdated as Atari. I just don’t get how anyone with an ounce of rational thought can take full advantage of modern technology, yet still buy into a science that died off before the birth of Christ. Congratulations, asshole. You have a PDA, drive a fucking Hummer, order Coldplay cd’s online, and wear heated socks, but you’re too brainless to figure out that astrology is a fucking joke. Eat shit.
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The gift of gab. Loosely translated, this means that whomever you’re referring to doesn’t know how to shut the fuck up. Chances are, they don’t know how to shut the fuck up in movie theaters. Man, I hate the movies. All they put out nowadays is pure shit. Too much Gus Van Sant and Jerry Bruckheimer and not enough Ollie Stone (excluding JFK. Everyone hates JFK). Anyway, if you can be considered as a person who has the gift of gab, you’re probably someone who deserves the gift of an aluminum softball bat across the face.
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A baker’s dozen. This expression has been explained as originating in the 13th century when the price and weight of bread were regulated and the penalties for giving short weight were heavy. Bakers, it is said, used to add an extra loaf to every batch of twelve to make sure that they stayed on the right side of the law. Well guess what? The 13th century ended about 7 centuries ago. Just say thirteen, already, you assholes. Using a dead reference from the Bronze Age in lieu of the number thirteen doesn’t make you any less of a fucking idiot.
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I’m waiting for my Knight in shining armor. Shallow, pretentious, pious, arrogant, middle-aged, divorced women typically use this expression to make up for the fact that they’re incapable of finding a man who will put up with their shit for more than five minutes without feeling the desire to cave in their fucking skulls in with a blunt, metal, object. And just to set the record straight for you cunts, Knights weren’t the valiant, handsome, caring, individuals that Hollywood has led you to believe they were. Knights were, for the most part, violent, grizzled, mean-spirited, drunken, assholes who killed everything within a sword’s reach of them. Now that I mention it, I think that’s exactly what these bitches need.
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The customer is always right. Bullshit. It’s usually the manager of some shitty restaurant or coffee shop that uses this form of reasoning with the lesser employees of their establishment so that he can pawn off the embarrassment of being yelled at by a pissed off customer to the waitress. What if the customer wants to anally molest your 8 year-old? What if the customer wants to go on fucking shooting rampage in your store and slaughter about twenty-six people with an AK-47 while rectally ingesting heroin? What if he’s just a prick? Waiters and waitresses have what has to be the shittiest job on Earth, and forcing them to practice this bullshit theory only makes it worse for them. Fuck the customer. The customer is a dick.
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Elvis has left the building. Hey, asshole. Elvis left the fucking building about 30 years ago when he overdosed on painkillers while taking a shit. Get over it, you dunces. This expression should leave the building along with anybody who uses it.
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Wild goose chase. Who chases wild geese? Does our society really have that much time on their hands that people are running around chasing wild geese? Get a fucking hobby, you assholes.
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A picture paints a thousand words. Oh yeah? What if that picture was drawn by a mute? How many words does it paint then? What if that picture is of something that only one word can describe? What if it’s a picture of me knocking you the fuck out? I can only think of one word for that: Awesome.
People keep using these tired-assed expressions that predate the death of the dinosaurs and it needs to stop. We’ve advanced our knowledge and use of the English language enough so that if we want to say something, we shouldn’t have to glorify it by using some archaic expression to make up for the fact that we’re a boring, one-dimensional society of assholes and car salesmen.
Fuck off.
:bowrofl: :bowrofl:
