Does anyone remember a time long ago, before the internet and social media, when the only people you had to bother and bore with all your minor irritations and gripes were your close friends and immediate family? Yeah, me neither. It’s hard to even imagine a point in time when people weren’t doing shit like this, every second of every day:
Riveting stuff. Totally worthy of the 2 minutes of my life I took reading it that I will never get back. Let’s make a new rule. Imagine yourself walking into the middle of a very, very crowded room. Full of people ranging from your mother, your sister-in-law, your first second and distant third cousins, their friends, the guy down the street you sometime see when you stop for coffee on your way to work, a bunch of assholes from high school, college, and random strangers. You look around, and decide to yell out “HEY EVERYBODY THE GUY WHO PUMPS MY GAS TOLD ME HUSBAND TO SHUT OFF HIS CAR ENGINE BUT HE DOESN’T TELL ME TO!” How do their faces look? How do you feel?
Maybe you notice the slightly bemused, completely uninterested people around you. Maybe you feel embarrassed. Maybe you want to get out of there before the cops and EMTs show up to check on your wellbeing and encourage you to take your meds. I don’t know. Or maybe, just maybe, you decide “I haven’t brought enough shame upon myself and my family – time to further emasculate my husband and make myself into a bigger joke!”
Boy, let me tell you. I bet Complaint Department Cathy over here is definitely what every young man in his prime dreams of when he pictures his future wife.
Utterly castrating him in the digital equivalent of a huge, crowded room? Check.
Aging barfly with a metabolism than has slowed to a crawl as gravity does its worst? Check.
Ratchet-qualifying use of juvenile photo filters? Check.
A grating, inexplicably urgent need to forcibly shove barely coherent, angry, meaningless drivel into the eye holes of every internet passerby, IN ALL CAPS? Double check, motherfucker.
I’m usually a proponent of good old fashioned family values, but my God, I hope this man cheats. I hope he cheats a lot. I hope that’s where his manhood was that day, fully occupied elsewhere, instead of crammed into his bovine bride’s purse. There is no chance she hasn’t been slowly siphoning off his happiness and sanity year after year – don’t let her take all of your masculinity too, dude.
Honestly, the best part of this whole thing, for me, anyway, is that this lady is seemingly myopically self centered that not only did she forget that no one fucking cares about her experience getting full service gas ups, but that the gas station attendant in question is, with 99% certainty, also on Facebook, and might want to call her out on her line of attention seeking bullshit. And when he does, it’s pretty great.
I wasn’t there, so I can’t take a hard side on this one. On the one hand, it is totally plausible that a kid being paid minimum wage to pump gas in the freezing cold and cash out lotto tickets for eight plus hours a day doesn’t give 110% on the job, and maybe doesn’t feel like arguing with every overly dramatic, entitled crusty old cow that waddles her way in for a hands free fill up and pack of Parliaments. At the same time, she clearly doesn’t understand that maybe, just maybe, some people don’t want to take even a .01% chance of catching on fire so some washed up Whitesnake groupie can rest her “disabled” legs in 75 degrees of warm air in the middle of the winter. So it really isn’t out of the realm of possibility that a woman who feels this is so important is just HAS to be on a public page just blew some shit out of proportion or lied to get some attention.
In fact, I’d wager the latter, because here’s exhibit B
Listen, if you need to announce your departure from social media, only to emerge days later,
To then continue your reign of vapid, whiny terror all over the most populated corners of the internet, that’s all I really need to know. And either way, this isn’t exactly hard hitting breaking news, Tara. Lighten up.
I know that I, for one, focus so much on the innate problems I perceive within Facebook’s design that I often forget that the problem with Facebook is not always explicitly Facebook. It’s every asshole you have so much as briefly encountered, showing you every picture of everything they do all day long with every asshole they have ever met, while posting every stupid asshole thought they ever had about every date, job, party, school, funeral, porn shoot, exorcism, ritual suicide and gender neutral theybie-baby shower they have ever attended. The Guttermuppet’s penis flytrap isn’t even a gaping hole as big as the spiritual asshole Facebook represents. It’s everything, every day and it never ends, and with every picture of every stupid meal, baby, vacation and street sign you trip over splayed endlessly through the intellectual black hole that is social media we all become further entrenched in the ludicrous idea that every single idea, observation, complaint and experience that we have is so incredibly meaningful and important that everyone NEEDS to read about it. Right. Fucking. Now. They’re not, and you’re not, and I’m not. In summation – Nobody gives a fuck, Tara. Not me, not the kid who pumps your gas, not your cuckhold of a husband, and certainly not the majority of the people on the Uxbridge Town Page. Shut the hell up.
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You hit the nail on the head with your gripe about social media. It has turned millions of people into inane narcissists that think the world is dying to know every mundane fact about their day-to-day lives. NOBODY GAF
Talk about sweating the small stuff. She is probably outraged that gas prices are down too.
I need to know more about that monstrous tat on her tit.
She fills her chowder hole 3-4 times a week with whatever she can get. The gas station guy probably turned her down, so now she’s scorned. I have a feeling it would be like throwing a hot dog down a hallway
When Tara passes gas its visible, her farts sign up for Karaoke
Bristol, that last paragraph is one for the ages. That’s the kind of writing that I come to TBS to read.
Social Media is Cancer.
I love her.
I want to get a handful of that hair and ravage her.
When I climax, the scream will be like that of Ronnie James Dio in his prime.
Haha, that’s awesome! Does that make her your personal Silver Mountain?
The gas attendant has been working every shift cause the other one his good friend for years wife died last week. This bitch is stupid hes only been working open to close every day trying too cope with losing a friend fucking cunt should’ve cock slapped her
How about the picture with the karaoke dildo and the beer ? She has her very best Ship N Shore glamour gal fat shirt on while rockin’ a pair of Walmart double XXL stretchy jeans . I bet that’s what she considers a real glamour shot. I’m so fucking depressed looking at her pathetic pictures and imagining how sadful, smelly and cheap her lifestyle is, I wanna go jump off the roof. Tara, you make people sad .
Your last list-riddled paragraph was a MASTERPIECE! Bravo!
Instead of a never-ending screed against the attendant, since you claim you already know the turn-off-the-engine law, just STFU AND TURN OFF THE F***ING CAR!
That last paragraph hits like the ending of “Death Blooms” by Mudvayne. It was everything about everything social media that is true.
Imagine being so obnoxiously annoying 24/7, knowing that your a huge pain in the ass, but not being able to stop because you can’t help yourself. Everyone around her must roll their eyes every time she comes within a 20 foot radius and just starts blabbering nonsense all day long.
She looks like a tired, weathered older Pam Smart after a 30 year stretch in the joint. Definitely rode hard and put up wet
She does look like old Pam , I thought the same thing lol
She might have been worth a toss 30 odd years ago but adding titty litter and a tramp stamp does nothing to make this land whale sexy.
Whoever wrote this, man or woman, I love you and respectfully ask for your hand in marriage.
Where the fuck is Uxbridge? Let’s found a new state west of 495 called Whocaresachusetts. How do people live out there besides EBT cards? Like there’s only healthcare “jobs” wiping butts in nursing homes and those “municipal professions “. Seriously what does west of Worcester produce anymore?
we commute genius
I’d happily have you keep Boston, Mattapan, Dorchester, Lawrence, Lowell, Revere, Brockton, Fall River, etc – while we keep Worcester & Springfield. That, and we’ll keep our nice homes and properties while you pay 4x the costs for 1/2 the house and 1/5 the land, suck exhaust fumes 24/7 from the traffic and congestion, count the satellite dishes on all your neighborhood Section 8 & public housing projects, and stuff your SJW fat asses into public transportation with the rest of the free shit army you libs love to pander to. And you can keep Fauxcahontas, Faker Baker, Marty Walsh, and every crooked Dem up on Beacon Hill while the rest of us “out here” laugh at you for thinking you got it better than us. Lol.
Do we get to keep Quabbin?
I remember back in the 70s, shitheads in the eastern part of the state wanted to pump water out of the Connecticut River up to the Northfield Dam. Then lay a pipe to Quabbin.
At the time Boston wanted to steal the water instead of replacing pipes out of hollowed logs. Replacing hollow logs is too expensive they said. We’ll just take your water.
Most Boston shitheads have no idea what Northfield is. Their tiny little minds with no imagination can’t conceive of a world outside of 128 or 495. They think they need Indian guides to transverse the great unknown.
Fuck, most people in the Boston area don’t even know what Quabbin is.
Ask the average person inside 495 where their water comes from and they will say “Duh, the faucet. Do you think I’m stupid?” Well, yeah, I do.
97% of all white landscapers in Massachusetts are from the town of Uxbridge. All of the good zookeeper jobs are in Mendon.
The chest art looks like something you’d get in prison.
ya know how when you pass by someone and they look at you, and you just say ‘how ya doing?’ and they actually start telling you ?!?!?!? and you can’t wait to get the fuck away from them, she is one of those
She fills up her car 3-4 times a week? That’s a lot of driving. BS. She fills it up once a month, when she gets her SSDI is my guess.
Da fuq is wrong with you people? I have been shutting my car off at the pumps for 35 years. Every. Single Time. In below zero at full service, I shut it off. If that poor guy making minimum wage can stand out there for me, the least I can do is not be an asshole and make him breath my exhaust fumes while I keep toasty warm for 5 minutes.
Tara Gray you are the definition of a C U Next Tuesday. I’ll bet you leave your cart at the grocery store wherever the fuq you want, right? Those grocery cart locations that are just 5 parking spots away aren’t for you. Let the cart boy do it. That’s what he’s paid for, right? No bitch. He’s paid to bring the carts back from their collection area, not every fuqing parking spot assholes like you make him. So because your kind can’t be cold or get wet for 30 more seconds, he has to freeze his ass off and/or get drenched all day.
I fuqing hate you.
Tara tell the truth you’ve been going to this Gas Station for so long because they are only place left that still sells 3 pack of Twinkies !!!
She fills her tank 3-4 times a week; I call BS! No man would ever stick his thing in her once a week, never mind 3-4!!!
Kill ’em all and let God sort ’em out.
Now let’s see the service she gets! 39 years of goung there is our the window. What a stupid bitch. Might have been worth doing 10 years ago, but now she’s a titooed Pig Bitch! Oink oink! Like my post! Oink oink! I need attention! Oink oink! Im a bitch…..
Sad, angry and emotionally hurt? You poor thing, boo fucking hoo!
If I was this chicks hubby i would grab her hair crimper, battery powered bedazzler, toaster and my battery jump pack and take a nice short hot bath
Social media really sucks
If you wanted to listen to these CUNY’s in days past you had to go sit at your local dive bar in the early afternoon
Now they can spew whatever comes into their syphillis ridden minds
If this chick was a car she’d be a rusted out ’73 Pinto with smoke clouded windows, a broken 8 track player, empty packs of Newport 100’s all over the floor, and faded orange shag carpeting
Just a guess. The broken 8-tracks were from Black Sabbath + Judas Priest?
Heaven, and Alice Cooper, if you ask me.
A horn rock band?