Tag Archives: awful

#42 The Storytime Haircutter

I'm not just a hair stylist...I'm also annoying!

I'm not just a hair stylist...I'm also annoying!

Look, no one likes getting their hair cut at Supercuts. The quality sucks, the mood is shitty, and usually Lupe doesn’t speak English, so you’re not even sure if she understands how you want it cut. But a majority of us still do it because it’s cheap, quick, and quiet.

But The Storytime Haircutter aims to rob you of that precious silence. Sure, she’ll throw in the cheap and shitty part of the haircut, but fuck you — she’s got some stories to tell.

Have you heard about her kids and Myspace? They’re always on it and she doesn’t approve. Oh, and this one time, she caught her niece’s Myspace profile, and-and she was wearing these like super short skirts. And so she’s like “MMmm, girl…I’m telling your momma!” Please! Tell me more!!

Like a Homeless Person asking for change, the SH will never stop; even if you’re unresponsive or don’t make eye contact. They’re relentless, and as long as you’re trapped in that little seat, they plan on raping you eardrums.

You see, the Storytime Haircutter doesn’t play by the rules. They don’t ask you about YOUR day, they TELL you about theirs. It’s forced role reversal — like paying a Plumber to shit on your floor. And that’s just rude.

You're stories make me want to cut myself

You're stories make me want to cut myself

Instead, I’m treated with the pleasure of a story about how you were stalked by a customer at Koo Koo Roo. Delightful. Oh. No…I actually haven’t had the salad bar at Sizzler. It’s good? OK, well if you say so.

Much like their close counterparts, The Airplane Talker and The Douchebag Dentist (how am I supposed to answer your question when your fingers are in my mouth?!) — the Storytime Haircutter lacks total self-awareness. Despite the fact that you’re PAYING them to cut your hair, they don’t focus on haircutting, they focus on talking. Shitty stories and awful analogies. You know what, forget me. Let’s put those scissors on auto-pilot and hear more about how your father worked in a Pillow Factory.

You should be warned, though — much like Melanoma, the Storytime Haircutter is not someone you should take lightly. You feed too much into their story, and your head will come out looking like a cross-breed between Alfalfa and a newly turned lesbian.

If you have the unfortunate luck of falling victim to a Storytime Haircutter, don’t panic! At the beginning of the cut, tell them the the IPP tried-and-true story: “Yeah, it’s weird. My Dad’s in jail for a pretty brutal haircutting accident. But oh well, he’ll be out in a couple months, so that’s good. …I’m sorry, you were saying something?”
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Also Known As: Gabby, The Haircut From Hell, Chatty Kathy, Henifer Lopez, The Supercut Sham, Nights in Rodanthe, The Neverending Story IV, Getting Scissored
Related: The Airplane Talker, The “Let Me Tell You About My Day Guy”

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Filed under annoying people, awful, haircuts, idiot accessories, work

#39 The Airplane Talker

You remind me of my grandson.

You remind me of my grandson, Rusty!

Your flight was supposed to leave at 1pm. Delay, beer, delay, kiosk sandwich, diahhreah. It’s now 10:30 at night, and you finally sit down in your crammed, cubicle of a seat. You look to your left and see a bright-eyed, white-haired lady. She’s got a smile that’s says “I’ve been waiting for you”, and as you try to close your eyes, she breaks the silence with:

“Oh dear, I can never sleep on planes!”

And that’s when you clench your fist, and wish for the first time that you were addicted to pain killers. Because you’ve just been seated next to the hell-on-earth of air transportation, the demon of travel: The Airplane Talker.

For the next five hours, she will blab on about her dog, her son, her medication. “Oh thank God my dog Muffy is not a shedder. The Doctor said that’s important, you know.” She’ll let you know how she doesn’t understand all this skateboarding and MTV nonesense. She’ll talk about her family, her friends, and how she remembers the days when airplane food was as good as Mom’s lasagna.

At about three hours in, she’ll really start to open up. “…And that’s when I learned I had diabetes. If it wasn’t for Frank giving me those daily suppositories, I wouldn’t be sitting next to you today.” Damn you, Frank! How could you stand her stories?

Shut the fuck up!This is the point where you start zoning out, eyes focusing on the Emergency Exit. “If I just pull it open and push her out, no one will realize…” If it were only that simple. Such is the crux of the Airplane Talker. There is no escape, no where to run. You can try to shut your eyes, try to sleep, but as soon as you flutter those eyes, there’s a story about World War II waiting for you.

You’ll probably be tempted to drop a bunch of Nyquil into her ginger ale when she goes to the bathroom for the eighth time. Do it. This is your only chance for peace.

Mostly due to over-congestion and less frequent flights, the prevalence of the Airplane Talker has increased to epic proportions in recent years. Every random seating assignment runs the serious risk of being placed next to one of these ear-bleeding assholes. It’s important to note, that while I’ve specifically described a female, the Airplane Talker knows no race or sex. Just like their cousin, the Public Transportation Amigo, it could be anyone.

Your best bet to combat Airplane Talkers is to come prepared. On every flight, bring a bottle of Ambien, a horse tranquilizer, and a ball gag. This should give you ample choices as to shutting them the fuck up. Worst case, you’ll at least have a fun flight.
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Also Known As: Chatty Kathy, The Perpetual Plane Ride, Shut the Fuck Up McGruff, The Living Seinide, The Neverending Story II, Air Bud

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Filed under awful, IdiotPantsParty, old people, parents, travel

#19 The Shisitor

There\'s a party in his pants
There’s nothing like a good friend.  Especially one that comes over and treats your apartment like a truck stop on the Interstate.  With a harmless “Where’s your bathroom?”, the Shisitor transforms from house guest to porcelain-pounding dump-fest. 

Sure, they brought over a six-pack of Bud Diesel, but their real gift to you is that unmistakable mix of Citrus Air Freshener and baby shit hovering in the air.  Who are they kidding with that?  We all can still smell the shit.  

But that is exactly what they want — to mark their territory. They’ve heard the expression “dump out before you go out”, and frankly, they don’t like it. They wipe their ass with that expression. Some are even so bold as to brag after they desecrate your personal space:

“You may want to give that a minute”,  “Ho Hoo!  That was a loose one!”, or “Do you have a plunger?”

Excuse Me, Where\'s your bathroom?Thus is the creedo of the Shititor.  Treat every place you visit like you were a vagrant at McDonalds.  Hold nothing back.  After all, you are a guest and you should make yourself at home.  Hell, clog a couple toilets while your at it.

You may find it hard to approach the Shisitor, as there’s nothing more awkward than initiating the “I’d appreciate it if you could unload that somewhere else” conversation. It’s just like having the “wrap your pecker in a rubber” talk with your kids — only more upsetting because, unlike your kids, you don’t care about this dude.

The Shisitor will almost always be a guy, typically with an alpha-male complex.  Less frequently, they suffer from IBS (Irritable Bowel Syndrome).  They will often come to your parties or BBQs under the guise of freindship, hanging out for hours before treating your toilet bowl like Hiroshima.

If this person is truly a good friend, you can seek revenge by going to their apartment and raising the stakes — by Upper Deckering their toilet.  

Who’s the Shistor now?
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Also Known As: The “Shit In Your House” Guy, The Port-O-Pal, That Guy, The Smellers‘ Cousin, The Girl Disperser, The Air Toxicator, The BYOStench Dude

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Filed under awful, douche, food, friends, IdiotPantsParty, stink

#15 The Smeller

Is that perfume?  Or dog shit?
Did someone just open a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos or — Oohh, man!  Who invited the Smeller?!

The Smeller is a notorious, shit-stinking beast.  Like a the body of a prostitute, they carry with them an assortment of smells unknown to the clean human palate.  Moth balls, woodchips, taco meat, grandma…you name it.  If it’s a foul stench, the Smeller will absorb it like a sponge and bring it to your nostrils.

A key trait of the Smeller is their ability to not smell themself.  They go about their daily lives in a blind stupor, oblivious — carrying around stink like a monkey.  

bitch, I live in a trash can!Yet, the Smeller is unique in their stankdom.  They won’t look dirty.  And they’re not homeless.  So is it that they just naturally smell like a jock strap?  Or do they simply not wash their clothes?  Did they just roll around in a pile of cow shit?  Or did they actually steal their wardrobe from their grandfather’s attic?

There are a million questions, and unfortunately, no answers. The only real question you can answer is “Who brought the Smeller?”

One things for sure, it wasn’t you. And such is the curse of the Smeller. They will show up unexpectedly, attacking your senses like a rapist. The Smeller is typically a co-worker or, more often, a peripheral acquaintance — a friend of a friend that somehow loves hanging out with you.

If you find yourself in close quarters with the Smeller, don’t panic. Simply look them in the eyes and say “You smell like taint.”   That should be sufficient to scare them away.  If it doesn’t, just start smelling your fingers and pray for the apocalypse.
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Also Known As: Grandma’s Closet, The Living Trashcan, The Stank, Shit’s Creek, Pigpen, Who Invited Stinky?, Ethan’s Surprise, The Shit Whisperer

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Filed under awful, freak, friends, stink