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minor things that make you fume


Was at london euston yesterday, needed to collect my ticket from the self service machine and my train was leaving in 5 mins. It's just after 6 so there are millions of people queuing up in the little corner where all of the machines are. Naturally I manage to pick the queue where the woman in front of me has all of her wordly possessions in her 3 suitcases blanky poking at the screen because she hasn't got a clue what she's doing. When she finally finishes everyone has to move away to let her past and people are getting pushed around left right and center. Sort yourself out a daft bint.
 

Mosquitos
This little sod has just silently landed on my right hand, cheeky as ya like, as I'm scrolling thru the site here.
As if to say 'hi. I'm in your bedroom mate and you ain't sleepin tonight'...
So I'm gonna spend the next 20 minutes like a tit, clambering around the room in my nudie trying to find the fecker while Mrs ZB looks on in rapt amazement at my dazzling mozzie hunting skills. Then, when I fail to find the little bleeder, the mozzie is going to buzz past my ear at 0251, waking me up to say, "hi, thanks for dinner. See you again at 0514"...


0431 update: after several little battles during the night, I went all French CRS and gassed the little bell. Who's smiling now?
 
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This may/should have been mentioned by now but, getting behind a woman at a cash machine. They print a balance, look at it, weigh up their financials, take the card out, put another card in, print a balance, and again mentally calculate their household bills in their head. Then they don't even withdraw money and walk away oblivious of the carnage they have left in the queue. Carnage being the thoughts of murder going on in my head.
 
This may/should have been mentioned by now but, getting behind a woman at a cash machine. They print a balance, look at it, weigh up their financials, take the card out, put another card in, print a balance, and again mentally calculate their household bills in their head. Then they don't even withdraw money and walk away oblivious of the carnage they have left in the queue. Carnage being the thoughts of murder going on in my head.

Why do women never go out with more than £5 in their purse? If I am 'down' to £20 in my wallet, I feel I must visit the cashpoint for a top up to cope with the 'just in case' scenario (which of course never happens).
 

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