Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Will You Please STOP That?
It's been one of those days. You know, the kind of day that leaves you contem-plating stupid things that really get under your skin? Okay, so maybe I'm the only person who does that. Regardless, it left me wanting to jot down a few (or sixteen) things that piss me off. Understand, this is just MY list of peeves (and a partial one, to be sure). I’m not looking to start a fight, and I’m sure you all have your own pissers-off (piss-offers?), some of which are probably things I do. I’d love to see yours, if the mood strikes you.
People who fiddle with electronic gadgets of any kind while attempting to operate a motor vehicle. You may think you’re fully attending to that road, but fact is, you’re not. Pull over and play, or disconnect and drive. Your potential victims thank you!
People who dump ashtrays, car trash, dirty disposable diapers, or whatever horrifying thing it is all over the ground. That includes you, Mr. (or Ms.) “Flip-your-cigarette-butt-and-leave-the-empty-quart-oil-containers-in-the-Walmart-parking-lot!” World’s not your garbage can, babe. Pick it up.
People who make grand, sweeping political statements when they haven’t done an ounce of homework on the issue. Reading a paragraph in Newsweek, catching 30 seconds of Katie Couric, or having Glenn Beck tell you so doesn’t make you well-informed on the issue. Sure, you have a right to speak . . . and I have a right to tell you that you’re utterly clueless.
Cats that piss wherever they please. Yeah, that includes a cat or two I’ve owned. Nothing takes “oooohhh, cute kitty” love into “I hate you” quicker than watching the paint peel off the top of your brand new clothes dryer because Kitty has decided that the lint screen is where cat piss really belongs.
People who think that “loyalty” means backing their play regardless of what they’ve done. Hey, you may be my friend, but if you rob a bank, shoot a cop, and run over an old lady in a crosswalk (or any combination thereof), I’m turning your butt in. I'll still love you, and I'll visit you in prison. But I won't cover for you, I won't lie, and I won't turn a blind eye. Sorry, bud. Know that now and befriend me accordingly.
People who lurk. You know, every time you look up they’re peeking at you, following you, staring at you, reading your private emails over your shoulder, or listening to your conversations? Go! Make your own friends! Get your own life!
Large red diesel trucks. Yeah, that’s it. They don’t even have to be moving—the potential for utter idiocy is so great that actual motion isn’t necessary. Of course, when they are moving, it’s almost always too fast, too carelessly, and too dirtily. "Clean" diesel? If it’s so danged "clean," why can’t I breathe when one of those monsters is within five car lengths?
Excess. You know, conspicuous consumption? When I read about some diamond dripping, fur-draped celebrity blowing 10 grand a night on a hotel room, my nails itch. Have you ever stayed in a 500 dollar-a-night room? I have—it’s sumptuous, palatial. It’s positively sinful, it’s so luxurious. Let’s say "Prad Bittley," being Mr. Wonderful-Super-Mega-Actor, needs twice that to serve his ego and make him feel as important as he believes he is. He needs double the luxury, double the sumptuousness. Okay, fine, there’s your thousand-a-night room. Give the other nine grand to someone who really needs it. Look around, I’m sure you can find someone.
Quadruple-Whoppers with Extra, Extra Cheese, add mayo. That’s just nasty. ‘Nuff said.
Across-the-street neighbors who sneak around your back gate and then narc you out for not keeping your back yard in the condition they think it should be. Hey! Nunya! Mind your own business! If I’m not storing toxic chemicals or unstable explosives, growing marijuana, hiding kidnapped children, or keeping old, locking fridges and cars on blocks, it’s none of your danged concern! What do YOU care if I’ve created a deadfall against a back fence so the birds will have a place to nest? How does that possibly hurt YOU? You can't even SEE it unless you're TRESPASSING! Nosy buggers.
People who think that divorcing and remarrying somehow relieves them of their parental responsibilities. Hey, don’t start a “new” family if you can’t afford to keep the old. 200 bucks a month child support is a joke, and yet you’re shirking even that? Get your tubes tied, get a vasectomy, stop breeding.
Restaurant nose-pickers, nose blowers, farters, belchers, and all-around slobs. Hey, I don’t want to see your snot while I’m eating, I don’t want to hear it blasting into a tissue or see you checking out that tissue to see what sort of cool toys you got this time. I don't want to see your food as you chomp and slobber with your mouth wide open, either. I don’t want to hear you belch, and I certainly don’t want to share in your flatulence. A good rule of thumb while eating in a restaurant is “IN ONLY.” If it needs to come OUT, go to the bathroom.
People who treat waiters, waitresses, clerks, checkers, etc. poorly. Come on, what kind of boor snaps fingers at a waiter or puts a hand on a waitress’s behind and calls her “sweetheart?” What kind of impotent tyrant takes out frustrations on some poor checker at the grocery store? It doesn’t make you cool to abuse people who are powerless to stop you. It just makes you a coward and a creep.
Folks who think that ex-smokers are just “bitter and jealous.” Believe me, not even ONCE since I quit smoking have I thought, “Oh, man, I wish I hadn’t quit! What a stupid thing to do! I wish I were still smoking!” Nope—when I see those smokers huddled outside in the icy rain, chewing their fingernails and tapping their feet on the train, or getting up to dash outside for a fix between courses at Chili’s, I am not even a LITTLE bit jealous. And the only bitterness I have going on comes from the anger at myself for blowing 26 years doing that to myself and the people around me.
People who, after the engineer announces that between-car doors must remain closed to prevent a dangerous carbon monoxide buildup, decide that their desire for a beer or a hotdog is more important than the safety of fellow passengers. Sit down! Stay away from those doors! It’s only a ten minute tunnel, you’re not going to starve (or die from dehydration)!
And lastly (for now), people who abuse or ridicule other people for their physical appearance. Why? What makes that funny, cool, impressive, or enjoyable? What’s lacking in YOU that makes you want to hurt other people? Shame on you.
Posted by Mumbles at 5:10 PM