Yelpers Who Suck

Walgreen’s is the shit, yo!   This is the place I can come and pick up a bottle of water to keep hydrated as I sit at my computer, a tube of aspercreme to soothe my sore leg muscles (apparently they’ve atrophied after my living in L.A. for 13 months and the fact that I’m walking again is… well… apparently something they weren’t anticipating.), the latest copy of Newsweek, together with some Emergen-C to make sure I get a decent vitamin regimen… Oh yeah, and a bag of chips to munch on… As I get to the cashier, I can even pay with my debit card and get cash back…

They carry so much cool stuff in here it just gets me hot and horny… which is all fine and dandy since I can get a refill on my prescription of viagra and a jar of KY to go with it.   Sweetness…

Had a pitcher of Stella and was pretty disappointed. It was really watered down and my friend and I thought it was a deal to pay the extra bucks for the pitcher instead of a pint. Like, really disappointed.

After reading several of Ivan’s reviews, we arrived at one unmistakable conclusion…

The term “going postal” was coined in my hometown of Edmond, Oklahoma.  On August 20, 1986,  Patrick Sherrill, a “disgruntled postal worker”, walked into my post office with three semiautomatic pistols and killed 14 people.  It was, at the time, the nation’s third-largest mass murder committed by a single individual in a single incident. What would follow would be a string of post office massacres from 1986 to 1997, where more than 40 people would be gunned down by spree killers.  20 of those would be centered around workplace rage.

It goes without saying, that I have seen bad post offices before.  I have seen sad, bored, frustrated and disgruntled postal workers.  And the post office on Broadway in Lincoln Heights, has nothing of the sort.

Thanks for the history lesson, Douche. It’s indeed a special delivery filled with the regret we feel knowing we’ll never be able to get the time back we wasted reading it.

Last Sunday, hilarious, there was a couple I saw at Fox N Hound earlier in the night after playin poker there sitting at the table next to me at Dennis’.  She was very proud of her obvious boob job and was wearing a “hardly holdem them in” white halter top.  She was drunker than a skunk with her kind of goofy lookin boyfriend, leaning over their table talkin to him, and when she stood upright her right fakie popped out.  Not sure she even noticed, but her boy got up and tucked it back under cover and they left not soon after.  She must’ve been too much to handle for him.  I must say she had a nice rack, but in the looks department she was lacking.  Now I can say I saw boobies two times at Dennis’.  That same night the “dancers” of I guess a local strip club called Centerfolds was there celebrating something.  But I must say, except for a couple of them, it was more like Center Trolls.  What can you expect from a Bible belt strip joint?

About as much as we expect from a Bible Belt Sucky Yelper.

I seriously don’t remember being here.  So apparently it must have been fun.

Nice review, douche. While we’re busy lol-ing all over ourselves at the thought of your blacking out from one too many strawberry daiquiris, the lingereing question remains – how can you realistically rate somewhere you don’t even remember being in? And why is your “review” even allowed by Yelp to be counted toward the overall score of a bar you were too stinking drunk to be able to describe? And why are you wasting our time with this nonsensical bullshit, anyway? Because you’re just doing what Sucky Yelpers do, that’s why. 

I love Chinese food. I don’t mean REAL Chinese food – I’ve tried eating the congealed blood and pig intestine in the authentic San Gabriel eateries and it’s really not my cup of tea. I spent an hour chewing on that rubbery sphincter and the memory still haunts my dreams. No, I’m talking the fake westernized Chinese food – the slippery shrimp and sweet and sour pork and orange chicken variety of ‘Chinese’ food. My complaint with PF Chang isn’t authenticity – you can keep it – but that it really tastes no different than Panda Express at 3x the moolah. Not bad. Just average and over-priced.

Would that I could give a NEGATIVE rating!!! I came to dine-in with my Groupon. It was going to be my birthday treat to myself (along with the blue suede pumps I had purchased earlier that day).  I had saved up my calories for this one!  I was planning to sit and enjoy my salad, sip a nice glass of  wine, and indulge in hot buttered bread, then take my steak and potato To-Go. I decided to shared my plan with my waitress upfront so she would know not to hurry my steak.  When I told her my intentions, the waitress objected loudly  telling me that could NOT be done with a Groupon. Before I could respond she quickly bought the manager over to my table. Then the manager came over and told me that in order to use my Groupon I had to “EAT THE ENTIRE MEAL THERE” and “WOULD NOT BE ALLOWED TO TAKE ANY OF THE MEAL TO-GO”!!!!! I have NEVER in my life heard such a ridiculous policy! And have you seen the size of Bogarts steaks?  The only stipulations on the Groupon coupon was “dine-in only” and “dinner entre must be ordered.” When the Manager came over he behaved like a complete ASS!!! He questioned me like I was a thief caught in the act, “What is the problem? Why don’t you want to eat your steak here?” And when the public humiliation bridled my tongue momentarily, he persisted, “You were going to tell me something just then. .. spit it out!” [in the tone of a father questioning a teen home late from a date]. Reluctantly,  I explained to him that I couldn’t possibly finish the steak after eating bread, salad and wine and that I wanted to enjoy my birthday steak later at home with my family. Then he said the only way that was going to happen was if I paid full price! He was loud and obnoxious. Other patrons were starring, causing me considerable embarrassment during the crowded dinner hour!  He insisted I would not be allowed to take ANY PORTION OF my steak to-go using the Groupon. I WALKED OUT!  Why bother doing the promo with Groupon if you are going to make up the rules as you go? I won’t be back WITH or WITHOUT a coupon! I really believe it was RACISM!!!! I KNOW HE WOULD NOT HAVE CONFRONTED A WHITE PERSON IN THE SAME CONDESCENDING MANNER!!   I fully intend to share my experience with the Mayor of Homewood at the next board meeting and I  won’t stop telling EVERYBODY I know to boycott this pathetic little establishment! SHAME ON YOU!

Sooo…Your coupon clearly stated that it was valid for dine-in only and you accuse the owner of racism for upholding the stipulations of the program? The only prejudice here is the one against your entitled attitude, Queenie Dear.

Hey Yelpers, if you don’t like old, infirm, super-sized, unhealthy people – stay out of Dish.

Hey Everyone On The Planet…If you don’t like irrelevant, nonsensical, stupid reviews – stay away from Denny B.’s posts.

Save your time and money, and pay for a cab a few blocks away. This place sucks hard. $10 for a metered out small Jack and Coke?  $10 a shot using crappy well alcohol?  Besides being filled with a very douchy crowd for the most part, the rest of the people were cougars on business trying to hide the rings swollen the fingers or guys in dress shirts and shorts.  You can’t make an Irish pub cool by importing a few guys with accents and having Guinness on tap….sorry.   I’d expect to pay those prices in NYC at a trendy spot, not in this place with poor service, a few crappy outdoor seats with a good views of the bums and a bathroom that that hadn’t been cleaned in a week.

To my many Yelp friends who love this place: sorry, but I respectfully disagree…

And you may find yourself in a large old-fashioned banquet room
And you may find yourself taking pictures with a large five-foot dog
And you may find yourself eating 5000 calories in an hour
And you may find yourself in a beautiful room, with your beautiful wife,
And you may ask yourself…how did I get here?

Letting the years go by, quality is going down
Letting the years go by, memories fall to the ground
Not feeling satisfied, after the money’s gone
Thrice in a Lifetime, quality is going down

And you may ask yourself, did I really like this chicken when I was a kid?
And you may ask yourself, is this really worth $19.95 a person?
And you may tell yourself,  the great service doesn’t make up for the bad food.
And you may tell yourself,  the pies never really had fresh fruit.

Letting the years go by, quality is going down
Letting the years go by, memories fall to the ground.
Not feeling satisfied, after the money’s gone
Thrice in a Lifetime, quality is going down

Not same as it ever was  Not same as it ever was
Not same as it ever was  Not same as it ever was
Not same as it ever was  Not same as it ever was
Not same as it ever was  Not same as it ever was

And you may ask yourself, why is this famous chicken so dry?
And you may ask yourself, why is every dessert too sweet?
And you may ask yourself, why is the only good thing here the scalloped potatoes?
And you may tell yourself, my, my, what have they done?

Letting the years go by, quality is going down
Letting the years go by, memories fall to the ground.
Not feeling satisfied, after the money’s gone
Thrice in a Lifetime, quality is going down

Not same as it ever was  Not same as it ever was
Not same as it ever was  Not same as it ever was
Not same as it ever was  Not same as it ever was
Not same as it ever was  Not same as it ever was

Congratulations, Greg. You have officially Stopped Making Sense.

I was in the bathroom dropping some brown stones and a child stuck his head under the stawl wall. His eyes were a piercing green and grey fome was coming out of his mouth. He bit me.

I offered him a chiken nugget and he left without the nugget. Later I saw him get in a rusted minivan with a man with an eye patch. I think he may have stole disease kid.

I have never had this kind of thing happen before at any other establishment ever. I’m not sure how to share this informatoin because I have trouble talking to people so I put this here. Not sure this is the best place because the nuggets were tasty.

Max, you’re obviously a little…

I was in Silver Spring for a seminar this morning and then looked up $ places to eat nearby on my Yelp BlackBerry app.  This place had really good reviews, so we went to try it out.

We didn’t even make it past the front door.  We opened the door and saw that there were people smoking inside, so we turned around and left.

Other data for this place: the parking lot is extremely small for so many businesses in that little strip mall.  The deli was obviously popular because all the tables were occupied both inside and outside and there was a line inside.

Sooo…You don’t go in or try the food, but you give a business a crappy review based solely on your moral inclinations? Nothing like a fair and balanced assessment. 

I won’t even dignify this place with an elaborate review. So here it is…THIS PLACE SUCKS!!!!!!

I hope that was helpful.

Good day.

You’re certainly true to your nickname, because to call this a review is certainly a stretch. Though to label you a Sucky Yelper is right on the mark.

Metered parking in downtown is only useful if you’re going into a business for an hour at most, with prices varying depending on even what side of the street you’re on.

For instance, going down 9th the meters on the left are $2/hour, but the ones on the right are $4. If you turn right and park on Grand, it’s $3/hour.

The one benefit, for the technologically savvy, would be the fact that you can reload your meter with a smartphone app.

Best bet for long term daytime parking in downtown would be those parking lots with flat rates. During the day, they can run $3-5. Depending on events going on at Staples and the convention center, lots near there can still be decent.

Thank you, Christine, for pointing out the heretofore little known fact that parking in Los Angeles can be both problematic and sometimes challenging. It’s reviews such as yours that keep laymen coming back to Yelp for more hidden insights they just can’t find anywhere else.

Add my neighbor to the list, NOW!

There’s a knock on my door in the middle of a very rainy night and fearing it maybe a crazed axe wielding serial killer, vampire, or werewolf, I didn’t answer.
Fortunately, it was neither.  Unfortunately, it was worse – my jack-ass next door neighbor.
She is under the impression that any stray garbage that lands near or around her mother’s house is mine.  It doesn’t matter what the garbage is, it has to be me.  One time there was a kid’s spelling test – with their name written on the top right corner with the “S” backwards and everything – and she still thought it was me.  WTF.

The latest thing this lunatic found was an empty McDonald’s bag.  Why I would ever even go to McDonald’s is beyond me let alone discard the leftovers on her doorstep.  But it made perfect sense to her.
So she takes this bag and then puts it on the top of my car.  For what reason I cannot even begin to understand.

I thought about taking some sort of legal action against her but those notions quickly dissipated when I saw her that same night walking in the rain with no rain-gear and an empty bucket soaking wet.  It was so creepy that the image bordered on something out of a Wes Craven film.

My only hope with this situation is that psycho only acts out when there’s a full moon.

Definition of irony: Crazy people reviewing stupid people on an inconsequential website.

Let’s face it, Yelp is all about attention whoring. My ego is fragile and needs constant stroking. Compliments allow me to feel like my opinions on burritos and shoe repair shops really make a difference! You compliment me, I compliment you back & everybody goes home feeling like they changed the world one Yelp at a time.

At this time we’d like to compliment you on writing the crappiest review we’ve read all day. Consider yourself stroked.

If I walk 8 blocks to Dairy Barn, and then order a large vanilla swirl with crushed M&Ms, and then walk the 8 blocks back, the exercise and the swirl pretty much cancel each other out, right?

What more classic Mid-West scene could one paint than that which unfolds every night at Dairy Barn?  Dark-blonde farmers in NASCAR t-shirts pull up in American pickups, and discharge the family onto the gravel parking lot: light-blonde kids and a Revlon 91-blonde wife ($6.99 at Walmart—the Revlon, not the wife).  The kids repeat their order to mom again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again to make sure mom gets it right.  Mom contemplates what the hell happened to her life as she places the family’s order with the zit-faced teenage girl who is working for less than minimum wage at this happy, family-owned business.  The teenage girl takes the order, and as she starts assembling the various tasty desserts, silently laughs to herself “That will NEVER be me!”  The order fulfilled, the family occupies one of several wooden picnic tables out front, next to the highway.

The husband watches the highway, U.S. Highway 6, which actually runs coast-to-coast.  If the husband got in the truck right now and headed east, he could be in Chicago by midnight, away from the mortgage on the home and the loan payments on the pickup and the damned boss, and even away from his own wife, who’s figure has just never rebounded from the third child in five years and who now seems tired, entirely lacking that amazing spark of life that so captivated him back in high school, as she was giving him a hand job under the football field bleachers.  How did she evolve into this woman?  What happened?  And, maybe if he stays here, whatever it was will happen to him too.

Dessert eaten, the kids climb on the tractors at the farm implement dealership next door.  Mom yells at the kids to get down, but doesn’t get up from the picnic table for whatever reason.  Her yells echo over the heads of the other patrons, many of whom have kids who will soon be climbing on those same tractors later.  As the sun sinks slowly in the west, a gentle pink and purple hue paints the entire scene.  The yellow flourescent light hums audibly above the windows where you place your order.  Out in the back of the gravel parking lot, teenagers are laughing and talking too loudly and trying to convince each other (and themselves) that they have the world figured out.  The hum of mosquitos mixes with the hum of the flourescent light and the hum of the bug zapper, which doesn’t actually attract mosquitos but the owners and most of the patrons don’t know that, so everyone feels a little safer, just like you’re supposed to at the airport despite similar problems.

Hey Ben…This may come as a surprise, but the purpose of Yelp isn’t to act as a surrogate online correspondence creative writing course. What. The. Fuck. Are. You. Thinking.

Dear Olive Garden,

As a long-time admirer of your authentic Italian cuisine, I must express disappointment about your recent decision to cancel your “Late Show” ads for the rest of the year. I am a fan of David Letterman, and I often enjoy gorging myself on your pasta and breadsticks late at night while watching his show.

That’s why it pains me deeply to inform you that I will no longer frequent your establishment. Moreover, I plan on holding elsewhere all wedding receptions, Bar Mitzvahs, brisses and wakes I might have once enjoyed at Olive Garden. Maybe Arby’s or Carl’s Junior will appreciate my business.

Olive Garden, I am sorry to inform you that from this day forward my family and I will be getting our diarrhea elsewhere.

Sincerely,
T

Fortunately, their most popular dish, spaghetti bolognese, can be replicated easily at home:

1 lb white pasta noodles
1 lb ketchup
1  1/2 lb Alpo
1 cup of shame
1/2 cup of regret
1 teaspoon of consternation
2 tablespoons of horrific pain (or 4 tablespoons of regular)
1 pinch of of hair

Which, oddly enough, is also the recipe for your pointless reviews.

Men LOVE Bitches.

Treat me well and I’ll be sweet. Piss me off and I will be the raging bitch that will make you regret every nanosecond of your f*ck up (during, after, and for days to come). It’s that simple.

Three mMen onths into it, we got into our first fight. Words cannot describe how pissed off I was. I could not look him in the eye nor did I care to respond to any of his texts. He sent flowers to my office. And I contemplated throwing them in the trash, taking a pic of it, uploading it, and tagging him on Facebook. I told you I can be a bitch. BEWARE.

Mr. NSS: “I’m going to bring you to a place that you’ve never been before. It got really good reviews on Yelp.”
Me: “Whatever.”

Mr. NSS: That’s a nice shirt.
Me:  ”Stop looking at my boobs.”

Mr. NSS: “Oh look, they have foie gras on the menu. You should get that since you had a terrible farewell to foie gras dinner at Michael Mina last night.”
Me (thinking): “Did this foo really research this place beforehand?!?!”

*TWO GLASSES OF PINOT AND CAB LATER*

Mr. NSS: “I want to try to work things out…” *brushes hand against mine*
Me: “Okie.” *HEART MELTS*

Mr. NSS: “I knew if I brought you to a wine bar you would loosen up.”
Me: “EXCUSE ME? What do YOU mean by “loosen” up?” *evil eye*
Mr. NSS: “Ummmm, erm, uhhhh…”

TO BE CONTINUED…

This is one of those rare occasions when we find ourselves wholeheartedly agreeing with a Sucky Yelper…

I can never return to this store again, am traumatized for life, and will likely be unable to shop at any other Marshalls.

Oh, the clothes are fine. I actually found seven items that I wanted to take to a fitting room. The trouble came when I was trying them on. As I was putting various items on, I would remove them and set them on the floor of the changing room. By the end, I had amassed a decent-sized pile on the floor. Well, I went to pick up some of the clothes, and they were kind of damp. I was confused, why would they be damp? I looked down and I see some sort of liquid on the ground. I’m still pretty confused, so I throw my own clothes on, take out the now wet clothes, and return them to the changing room attendant.

Me: “Ma’am, there appears to be some water on the floor of the changing room.”

Lady: “Ohhh nooo, there ain’t no water there. That be pee!”

Me: *stunned silence*

Lady: “Just throw the clothes on the cart right there so I can hang them back up.”

Me: *stunned silence*

She quickly hurries off to the changing room, a roll of paper towels in hand. I ask her if everything is ok. Her response: “aww, this be pee alright.” My face turns ashen.

I quickly walk out of the changing room area and tell my wife we have to leave. “Honey, there was pee in the changing room. We can’t buy any clothes. We have to leave. Now.” It was then that I noticed a damp spot on my leg. We both agreed that a bridge had been burned. We could never return to Marshalls again.

This, obviously, is an example of a piss-poor review.

I can’t believe this has only received four stars!

HARUMPH!

I recently tried oysters for the first time in Tomales Bay.  I was all by myself, and I was well aware of the reputation these bivalves have as an aphrodisiac.  ”Well, that’s an old wives’ tale, ” I told myself.  ”What could old wives possibly know about aphrodisiacs?!”

Turns out they know quite a bit!  After about a dozen oysters (and a few glasses of fume blanc–I won’t lie), I was as randy as an amorous camel, and ready to get my hump on!  Fortunately, I had a pillow in my car–just a small thing, a simple throw pillow–but it did the trick.  I love role-playing, and my pillow was more than willing to indulge me in my game of “interior decorator meets naughty throw pillow.”

Bow-chicka-BOW!

Great Wall gave me my first orgams (finally!)   for years i thought i was just frigid or mabye asexual, but great wall was like “oooh baby you just need to relax, let great wall do all the work,  damn…you so tense, especially right here. hows that feel? yeah let big daddy wall loosen you up.”  also the shrimp and lobster sauce was rather good. my only complaint would be that at times i felt great wall was telling me what i WANTED to hear, not what i NEEDED to hear.  keep up the good work guys!

Is it food or is it porn? Apparently ol’ Jonathan is taking eating out to a whole new level.

The only thing that should ever find it’s way between my toes is the tongue of some hot stud.

As always, we’re here to help…

You know how lazy people like to shrug their shoulders and say, “Why reinvent the wheel?” and then some genius walks in, snatches away the wheel and does something crazy like featuring some weird cheese on a burger and then the lazy guy says, “Hey bud, this tastes like a sock. It would be better if you put a Kraft single up in this bitch,” but then the re-inventor dude just shakes his head in disgust like that hipster that smirked at you when you bought Miley’s “Party in the USA” instead of “Boxer” by The National.

The ketchup at Haven was created and served by re-inventor of the wheel guy. It’s got curry or apples or something in it that makes this black man dream of ketchup or McDonald’s secret sauce. Other than that, KC got kinda drunk at Haven. It’s a cozy place.

Oh wait, ya know what else sucked? The beer list was pretty stupendicular but like half the beers were not available kinda like when you were in 10th grade and your Mom put you on Accutane and you felt pretty bold about yourself and instead of asking your interesting Chemistry lab partner to Homecoming, you rolled up on that blonde songleader chick in home room but you hadn’t yet taken a Dianabol cycle so your arms and chest still looked like Dr. Dre before he got all yolked so she said her family would be on vacation which was clearly a lie.

Ah, there’s nothing quite like the muffled sound of a ‘roided-up Sucky Yelper OCDing on ketchup and 86′d beer. Now that’s what we call stupendicular.

This place gets three stars. They take Visa, their coffee is great, they have great food items, a nice bathroom, and my visits have always been pleasant.

They also have sausage, egg and cheese breakfast items, which is about all it takes for me to give you five stars. Seriously, I’ll give a frakking truck vendor five stars if he gives me a sausage, egg and cheese anything.

So why only threeve stars? Because it’s right next to my gym, and it’s mean to tempt me into sausage, egg and cheese after I just worked out. Frowny face.

You. Are. A. Waste. Of. Perfectly. Good. Oxygen. Which. Someone. Less. Stupid. Could. Be. Utilizing.

The store should have signs that customers can pick up when they walk in that say either, “Yes, bother me I’m clueless,” or “Don’t bug me, I will find you and bug you.”  I only go shopping when I want to buy something, therefore having 10 employees ask me if I need help just because I step foot in their store makes for a horrendous shopping experience.  I should be checking out the merchandise, not bad-mouthing a horribly TRAINED employee for being the 10th one to ask me if I need help.  I’m aware this is part of the training drilled into the heads of those employees and therefore I do not fault them (except for maybe acting like a robot instead of a human being…?).  Home Depot however goes a long way toward making sure I think twice before stepping into their store.  Unless I absolutely need something they sell I avoid them.  Do they understand how they push customers toward their competition?  Too much (in this case WAY WAY WAY too much) of a good thing is very bad.

Leave it to a Sucky Yelper to berate a business for providing customer service! Just one of your reviews, Sara Dear (is WAY WAY WAY too much) of a very bad thing indeed. A hearty shout out to Jennifer P. over at Yelp Is A Fraud for bringing this ridiculous Yelper to our attention.

I’d rather eat live, rabid, baby goats. They take away the peanut oil to save a buck and toss in  hydrogenated  bullshit instead. Well- fuck you ,too,  Skippy!

If they had found an Iraqi Olive Garden, it’d be good enough reason for invasion. The food at this particular location clearly falls under the WMD category, though I’m not sure it ‘s organically based in any way. Someday I’m going to pre-emptively invade this place. I’m sure the waitstaff will great me as a liberator. It won’t cost but a billion dollars, and take six months. I swear.

A while back, our little family went with our $50 gift card to the Cerritos Olive Garden, had some piss-poor salad, some pasta that tasted like ass, some meat that tasted like ass, and some bread that was probably good when it was baked, but had gone tough in the last billion years and now tasted like ass. The service was actually really good, and I felt bad for the young man who had to carry that shit around and pretend it was anything but ass. “Excuse me, sir, how was your serving of ass? Did you enjoy the ass tonight? Would you like me to box the leftover ass to take home?” Poor guy.

Don’t nobody give us another Olive Garden gift card. I’ll fucking kill you.

Though we appreciate a good derriere fetish when we see one, the only real ass here is the kind of jerk who eats for free and and then bitches about it. Now that leaves a shitty taste in our mouth every time.

This place is CLOSED! After reading Yelp reviews I wanted to check it out. I got directions via Yelp and set out. After stopping three times (at a liquor store, a PG and E truck and the post office) to get help finding it, I still had no success. I called their number three times, no one answered until the third try and then they told me they were no longer in business (except I guess for Saturdays at the Farmer’s Market). I asked them to please post their CLOSED status on Yelp so others didn’t waste the same time I had trying to find them. At the very least they could have a voice mail recording letting people know they are closed.

Since Heather here appears mired in the muck of her own hubris, we thought we’d lend a helping hand and provide a public service announcement on behalf of the now-defunct Bliss Bakery. Here goes…Hey asshole, we’re out of fucking business and don’t owe you shit. Maybe if you would have patronized us with a little more frequency we’d still be around. And the only time that’s being wasted are the minutes you spent jotting your venomous comments on Yelp about a business that’s no longer around. Now please crawl back under the rock you briefly emerged from. There, that should just about cover it.

My dentist asked me recently if I drank a lot of coffee or tea. I don’t. (And clearly, this was a new dentist.) I do, however, eat dark chocolate regularly. Very regularly. So regularly that my dentist advised me to bring a brush with me so that I can brush my teeth after I eat some.

I remember reading 1984 and getting to the part with chocolate rations. How could anyone live like that?!

I’m not a happy or pretty camper without my chocolate. I would be doing the world a grand disservice if I stopped eating altogether, so I won’t. Just please don’t be weirded out if I suddenly excuse myself to go brush my teeth.

Ah, there’s nothing like the sight of a Sucky Yelper reviewing their own addiction to remind us what a waste of bandwidth Yelp perpetually is.

1998 Weekend to Palo Alto

*knock on the door of Ashley a junior from Orinda who I befriended on ICQ in 1997 when we met in a casual hook up group there.  We had shared many an intimate phone call and photo with one another and now it was our first meeting*

Ashley (A) – TED? Wow what a surprise.
Ted (T) – Isn’t it though!
A – What brings you up here?
T – The Weekender!  I figured I could crash at your apartment.
A – How did you find my apartment?
T- You gave me the address one night when we were having phone sex.
A – I did?  I mean I did.  And you wrote down the address?
T – Yes, I have very good hand eye coordination.
A – Wow. I mean great, you are here for The Weekender.
*voices in the background*
Sabrina (S) – Ash, who is at the door?
A – Nobody!
T – So can I stay with you this weekend I was thinking we could hang out and stuff.
A – Hang out and stuff?  ooo that would be great, Ted.  But you see we are in the middle of mid terms here and we are so busy and we wouldn’t have time to hang…
S – Ash who are you talking to…? *looking shocked*
T – You must be Sabrina, I am Ted Carroll!  Ash, Ashley rather has told me so much about you!
S – Has she?  Ash what did you say about me?
A – Ted was just stopping by on his way through town.  I know Ted from Jewish Summer Camp when we were in junior high.
T – *confused but playing along* yeah Camp Yeshiva in Oakland *the first Northern California city to come to mind.
S – Ted, come on in and tell me what Ash said about me? I am curious?
T – Oh you that you are great roommate and have a cool boyfriend.
A – *about to cry*
S – So Ted where do you go to school?
T – USC, I am in town for the Weekender.
S – So you aren’t just passing through town?
T – No.  I was hoping I could stay here.
**2 hours later after lots of silence and awkward conversation Ashley and Sabrina come back after they had a powwow in the kitchen*

A – So Ted, Sabrina and I were talking it over and it may not be the best thing if you stay here this weekend.  We have plans.
T – *interrupting* What about your midterms I could help you study?
A – YES Midterms and I have tons of work to do this weekend.
**Sabrina walking into the room**

S – Ted, we don’t want you here.  You are really creepy, kind of cute in a drunk at 2:45AM looking for the first guy to get me off kind of way.  But we want you out.  Ash told me in the kitchen about all the phone sex and weird shit you asked her to say to her, “Stick your fingers in my ears as you eat her out to shut up the voices?”  really Ted?  And all the weird shit you asked her to buy and insert into herself, the hooded spandex body suit with restraints, the baby Jesus Butt Plug?  Nun-chucks? and rubber chicken? Look Ted even though she said she has never cum so hard in her life we are not comfortable with you here in our apartment, near campus, in Palo Alto or quite frankly having you North of Morro Bay.  Bottom line, Ted is we want you to leave or we will call the police.  You have five minutes.

**I walked out and slept in a public park that night**

Stanford what a cavalcade of closet cases.

Yo Flo…give me a fuckin menu and take my goddamn order already. I’ve been sitting here for 15 minutes lookin at your trailer park asses and wondering why the fuck this place has not been replaced with a Starbucks yet.

Listen, you can’t be ugly AND inept, Miss America.

Perhaps not. However, you apparently can be a low grade follicle-challenged cooterballoon as well as a Sucky Yelper at the same time.

Meet the charming and (apparently) lovely Christine, who gets her jollies by insulting and attacking service industry employees behind their backs under the cloak of anonymity. Well, Christine “Redheadedhottie” Dear, the only thing we find hot about you is the mansion in hell we hope spiteful people such as yourself end up taking residence in. 

Club Tac / 1 Star

I have lived in Crockett for seven years, & have been in Club Tac a few times, & had an OK time, nothing to write home about. Last night my friend & I decided to go out & have a drink, it was a Sunday evening, & the Golden Globes were on. So we walk in, & there are about ten lifeless, (some overly drunk) patrons, who stared at us with unwelcoming eyes. The bartender, took ten minutes to serve us, & she was the rudest bitch I have ever met. She had no personality, she was rude, & acted like it was a friggin hassle to pour me a beer, & make a mudslide. She never once smiled or welcomed us. So we shrugged our shoulders & turned our attention the the big screen tv, & started commenting on the actors, & chatting with each other, & every time I looked up, I kept getting mean stares from this has been alcoholic wench across the way, who was having a loud convo w/ the bartender. So 15 minutes go by, & the bartender then aims the remote at the tv, & mutes the Golden Globes! How friken rude!!! So I took my last swallow of my beer, & said “let’s get the f outta here! My friend through a dollar down, & let the tender know that it was for the drink not for the service! We felt so unwanted there. I will never step foot in there EVER!!! The bartender is a short, plain, 40ish white woman, with a dual colored blonde/ brown bob hairdo. Real Winner!! NOTTTTT!!!!

Ross Dress For Less / 1 Star

Huge gigantic ware house full of crappy clothes that will fall apart the minute you throw them in the washer. They have some cute decor for the home, & shoes are OK, but they are all over the floor. The customer service girl who does returns is a (female dog) hint hint. I’d rather go to Goodwill or Thrift town! LOL

Was murdered here. Definitely would not recommend.

I feel like I should write at least a few words about Bodhi.

So, there they are.

We feel like we should write at least a few words about your Yelp reviews to let you know how much they suck.

So, there they are.

I previously thought it impossible to fuck up pizza.  Boy, was I wrong…..

Fortunately I got it to go and ate in the privacy of my hotel room because shortly after I finished my second piece, my digestive system staged an all out coup d’etat!  I sprinted to the bathroom and proceeded to drop an entire school system full of kids at the pool!  Followed by a burning flock of doves!  And a touch of hot lava to top it off!

And as the wallpaper curled off the bathroom walls, the scent of firey poo wafted through our suite.  My boyfriend ran through the balcony door…and dove five floors to his death.  Shortly thereafter the entire hotel imploded upon itself

The End