Salad Bar Stupidity and Other Stuff I Don't Like

So my posts about things that make me happy netted us a couple of showings on the house o’pain, although no offers.  I’ll wait while you pick up your jaw that’s understandably hit the ground as you fathom why our house hasn’t sold yet.
Seriously. 
I ask myself the same question almost every morning in the shower while I shave my legs with increasing agitation until I resemble an extra from the “Edward Scissorhands:  Leg Shaver” movie that unfortunately never got made.
Anyway, since the positivity didn’t really do anything THAT great, I’m going back to being my hate-filled, cynical self.  Because if we’re not going to sell our house with the power of positive thinking, I’m gonna stop being an annoying optimist and write some more about stuff that annoys me.  It is my comfort zone, after all…

1.  The stupid guy in front of me at the salad bar in Harris Teeter.  Let me preface this by saying that this douche bag’s actions were already probably going to annoy me, mainly because this entire day has annoyed the tee-total shit out of me.  However, with a queue of folks forming behind this guy that would rival a Depression-era bread line, this guy decides to go through the chicken, piece by piece, until he hand-selects the very pieces that would grace his salad.  A note about this chicken:  it’s all crap.  It’s pressed together chicken innards that somewhat resemble a part of our favorite edible fowl, but it’s essentially crap.  And the fact that you’re picking through the crap, to the detriment of my personal time-table and growling stomach, is not only inconsiderate but completely moronic to boot.  And then let’s talk about how the guy answered his cell phone while picking through the chicken (Yeah, I’m still standing here, but please.  I really want your salad to reach its peak of perfection through perfectly picked chicken parts as you ramble about what I’m assuming has something to do with an obscure band and how much PBR you drank at their showcase Friday night.  What’s that?  You’re having trouble finding your phone in the pocket of your skinny jeans?  Let me help you – it's the only bulge visible in your skinny jeans.  Ahem.)  At this point I was ready to grab him by his stupid sunglasses and shove his phone down his gullet, but he finally moved and I didn’t want to get any more bloodstains out of this dress. 

2.  Unsolicited opinions.  Here’s the thing – I don’t give a flying rat’s dirty parts who you worship, who you vote for, who you marry, or who you seriously maim in a salad bar line.  You know why I don’t care?  BECAUSE IT MAKES NO DIFFERENCE TO ME.  And you know something else?  I’m not going to force my beliefs on you because it makes no difference to you.  So please, for the love of whatever you think is holy, stop trying to change my thinking because odds are, you have no idea what I think about these subjects anyway because I often refuse to talk about them.  I would much rather have a riveting discussion about the merits of fresh v/s canned tomatoes, my hatred of Taylor Swift, various meanings  of the f-word, or the advantages to backing into a parking spot.
In closing:  They’re personal decisions and involve no one but me…and possibly that stupid guy I just gut-punched in Harris Teeter…so please.  Just.Stop. 

3.  There’s a Farmville TWO???  What happened to the first one – did it get burned down during Sherman’s ride through Facebook?  I thought I was safe from inane app requests, but now am I going to have to block the “Two” version of everything?  Bejeweled Two:  Shenanigans in Jewelry Heists?  Mystical Mountains Two:  Escape from the Billy Goat’s Grasp?  Café City Two:  A Server’s Revenge through Body Fluids?
JUST F’ING STOP IT. 

4.  The Tennessee Titans.  "But Jamie!" you might be thinking.  "I thought you were a Titans fan.  What's this blasphemy spewing forth from your foul mouth ?"  Let me explain.  I was unable to watch or listen to this weekend's game due to prior obligations.  Now, I’ve watched the Titans get pummeled by Tom Brady.  I’ve watched running backs prance through our line like it got burned up in Sherman’s charge on Farmville.  I’ve watched through injuries, through unfortunate hand gestures to TV cameras from our stoic owner, and through a hissy fit by a thumb-addled quarterback.  And what do I get for sitting through these monstrosities?  I miss what everyone is calling, “One of the best Titans games EVER!”  It’s bad enough that I missed our first win of the regular season, but that pile of the salt in the wound?  Brought to you by the Titans game everyone will be talking about forever. So thanks, Titans.  You wait until I'm not in front of the TV for once to play a great game of football.  I'm hoping this isn't a trend, because I'll be watching whenever I can.  Ya might wanna buckle in for a bumpy ride.   

So I know I said I was going to be totally pessimistic, but there was one bright spot in this crap parade of a weekend…

While driving down Briley Parkway on Saturday, I noticed a loaf of bread in the right-hand lane.  Thinking it odd, and feeling an overwhelming urge to run over it to see what would happen, I continued driving my 55-mph in a quest to get home.  A few more miles up the old BP brought yet another loaf of bread.  And then two more.  THAT’S when we started wondering who was Breading the Opryland side of Briley Parkway.  A truck pulled over in front of Opry Mills brought our answer – the bread was coming from a couple in a pickup truck with a bed full of bread.
Like, an entire truck filled with loaves of bread. 
I couldn’t make it up if I tried.  And I don’t want to.  I just want a sandwich.