Fuck You GameStop

I really should blame myself for rolling the dice again.

2 years ago I preordered Gears and got the call only to show up and it not be there. They had some shipping fuck up and I got it 2 days later.

Tonight it is Left 4 Dead. Got my call yesterday and showed up today only to find that they had yet another warehouse issue and I might have it tomorrow. I honestly know better, and have no idea why I even bother with pre ordering anymore. There is no fucking benefit at all, and I won't get anything out of this other than a "sorry". The guy that runs and owns the one I go to is awesome and I can tell he felt shitty about it, obviously it is not his fault but god damn I am unhappy.

 

Anyone have any success complaining to corporate with these fuckers? From here on out it is all Amazon for this kid. I was looking forward to this game the most this fall, so it is pretty dissapointing. Now I will have to call in sick tomorrow.

Posted by rabbmasterflash @ 9:37 pm EDT | Permalink | 9 Comments

Thank You ClaNarchy

As fucked up as you (ClaNarchy) all are...today made me realize that we could never pull this sort of epic drama off. I think doodi and DSmooth would hold the door for us and pay for the copyright.

Thank you, you wonderful bastards.

Posted by rabbmasterflash @ 7:06 pm EDT | Permalink | 10 Comments

Sjam

you son of a bitch

Posted by rabbmasterflash @ 2:10 pm EDT | Permalink | 5 Comments

Happy Birthday Sicrik

You magnificent bastard

Posted by rabbmasterflash @ 10:15 am EDT | Permalink | 5 Comments

Hey, Bob! How ya doin'?

Bob works hard at the plant and spends two nights each week bowling and plays golf every Saturday.

His wife thinks he's pushing himself too hard, so for his birthday she takes him to a local strip club.

The doorman at the club greets them and says, 'Hey, Bob! How ya doin?'

His wife is puzzled and asks if he's been to this club before.  'Oh no,' says Bob.  'He's in my bowling league.'

When they are seated, a waitress asks Bob if he'd like his usual and brings over a Budweiser.
 
His wife is becoming increasingly uncomfortable and says, 'How did she know that you drink Budweiser?'

'I recognize her, she's the waitress from the golf club. I always have a Bud at the end of the 1st nine, honey.'

A stripper then comes over to their table, throws her arms around Bob,starts to rub herself all over him and says, ''Hi Bobby. Want your usual table dance, big boy?'

Bob's wife, now furious, grabs her purse and storms out of the club. Bob follows and spots her getting into a cab. Before she can slam the door, he jumps in beside her.

Bob tries desperately to explain how the stripper must have mistaken him for someone else, but his wife is having none of it.

She is screaming at him at the top of her lungs, calling him every 4 letter word in the book.

The cabby turns around and says,  'Geez Bob, you picked up a real bitch this time.'


Bob's funeral will be on Friday.

Posted by rabbmasterflash @ 12:32 pm EDT | Permalink | 6 Comments