A Note Before I Depart to Seattle

So I’m officially off to visit the West coast tomorrow, as I’m flying my happy ass to Seattle for the Allrecipes.com 15^th birthday celebration.  This fact does not annoy me.  However, I’ve been noticing more and more things that DO annoy me lately and I’ve compiled enough to make a list.  Afraid the Seattle air will suck these great things out of my brain, I decided to void my brain of these items in a mindless ramble a la the Internet.  Also, the word “void” makes me think “your bowels.”  Enjoy.

1.  People who tell you their weekend plans just so they can tell you theirs.  It’s classic and easy to tell when someone walks up to you with a poop-eating grin (isn’t the word “poop” funny?) and says, “Got any plans this weekend?”  Before I can enthrall them with my agenda of “scrubbing the carpet from the latest cat vomit spree and then drinking beer on my porch and postulating as to my neighbor’s profession…we’re fairly sure she’s a prostit…” I’m cut off with plans of, you know, actually doing stuff.  (In case you’re wondering, the end of that sentence was going to be “ute.”)  Maybe it’s irritating to me that people actually seem to have fun on their weekends or maybe I just hate being interrupted by someone who actually seems to have fun on their weekends, but whatever it is, stop it.  Just come up to the person and say, “Hey!  I’m totally going whitewater rafting with George Clooney this weekend after we hit up happy hour at Virago where we’re gonna  hang out with the guy from the Dos Equis commercials.”  And it’s perfectly acceptable to walk away before I tell you my exciting plans of cleaning out the moldy substances in my refrigerator and stealing my neighbor’s front license plate that is maddeningly crooked.  You’ll probably just think I’m a psycho anyway.

2.  People who jog on crowded roads.  Here’s the thing – I myself run on a road, but it’s through a neighborhood, it’s fairly common to see people running down this road, and it’s not a main thoroughfare through anything.  People running down Mallory Lane next to the I-65 entrance ramp are just doing this to show off their incredibly toned stomachs and heat resistance (note:  This IS a very specific description of a very annoying person jogging in the middle of Cool Springs while it was approximately the temperature of Dante’s 10^th level of hell outside.)  I’m not saying, “Don’t exercise.”  What I’m saying is, “Exercise in a place where 1. You have the least likely chance of being run over by a trucker who is just trying to get on the interstate to deliver his load of bananas before midnight and 2.  YOU’RE ONLY DOING THIS TO SHOW OFF AND WE ALL KNOW IT.”  So continue to sweat and continue to dodge mobile meth labs.  Because what you’re doing is stupid. 

3.  Guys who say “delish” instead of delicious.  This is actually aimed at one person, also, and that person is Tyler Florence.  He used the phrase “delish” the other day in reference to something he made and holy crap, I almost threw my Hot Pocket at the television.  First off, shortening words is a known annoyance of mine and almost always the tell-tale trait of a hipster.  Females engaging in this questionable activity are bad enough, but dudes?  Seriously?  You sound like Andy Cohen and no one needs that much Andy Cohen is their lives.  Secondly, how can anyone think that the abbreviation of a word that’s NOT EVEN THAT FREAKIN’ LONG could make you sound hip, cool, or even intelligent?  So, Tyler Florence, until you can get a grip on your vocabulary, you’re going to need to take your tasty-looking pesto elsewhere, because this girl can’t listen to a man who has obviously spent way too much time in the presence of dumb people. 

4.  Chick-fil-A.  I’m not about to go off on some anti-gay restaurant rant, mainly because it won’t do a damn bit of good and I shudder at the thought of starting a gay marriage debate, because, well, that sounds like it would annoy me.  The whole “we don’t support gay people” stance isn’t what bothered me to begin with anyway – it’s the fact that their food sucks.  Granted, this view is probably due to the fact that Chick-fil-A was one of the few options available on my freshman meal plan at the good ole UT of K and I gorged myself on their nuggets so much that I could possibly live until Joan Rivers dies before I need anything even resembling a piece of Chick-fil-A chicken again.  Secondly, I’ve NEVER been in one of their restaurants that wasn’t completely crowded, inside and out.  The location in Brentwood gets so backed up in their drive-through at lunch that they have to make some poor sap stand out there and direct traffic or something (not sure what he does, but I’ve seen him out there talking to folks in their cars on numerous occasions.  I’ve also said the phrase, “Why don’t you get your ass out of the car and go inside instead of wasting three gallons of gas while you wait for your deep-fried crap?” on numerous occasions.)  I’ve found out why someone would choose the gas-waste route, as upon stepping into a Chick-fil-A I’ve often been overwhelmed by the sheer amount of children in one place.  Don’t get me wrong – I like kids and I’m aware that most of them need to eat in order to survive.  But holy honey mustard dipping sauce, they’re EVERYWHERE in there!  It’s loud, it’s chaotic, and their chicken sucks.  Besides the fact that they’re closed on Sundays, these are plenty of reasons for me to avoid this place like the plague, no matter their political stance on marriage.  Now if we could work on those horrible billboards and get them the hell out of the SEC tournament, I’d be one happy camper.  

Annoyances: Laundry List Style

Given the fact that the past two days have been spent grinding my teeth and attempting not to disembowel the next person who says the phrase “heat wave,” I’m a bit irritated at, well, everything.  Maybe my case of the Mondays has been extended to include our friend, Tuesday, but whatever the reason, I’m not in a great mood, and I blame everything but myself.  Why?  Because I’m an American, dammit, and that’s perfectly acceptable in this country.  So, here is yet another list of crap that bugs me.  I know you’ve been losing sleep over the lack of these lists in your life. 

1.  Being held “gift hostage.”  A friend of mine recently had a dilemma.  You see, a friend of hers that she didn’t particularly like wanted to meet up with said friend to give her a birthday gift.  Mind you, these people aren’t exactly on “talk every day and finish each others’ sentences” terms, so it was a bit odd.  After politely declining the birthday gift, my friend then got an e-mail that said, “But I had something monogrammed for you, so it can’t really go to anyone else.  I’d love to catch lunch and let you enjoy it.”  I’m calling bullshit on this one because who on earth gets someone a monogrammed gift when you barely talk to the receiver of the gift?  This, my friends, is a classic case of gift entrapment.  My guess is the alleged gift giver actually has a favor she wants to ask of gift receiver and is using the gift as a wickedly-trapped bait to lure this favor out of my friend.  The friend called shenanigans and has yet to be snared by the monogramming bandit.  Stay tuned for news, but please, don’t do this to someone you kind of know.  It’s not cool, yo.  Not cool at all. 

2.  There’s a school called Universal Technical Institute.  Yes.  They call it UTI.  Why you would want to name your school after a common female bladder ailment when it’s an institution designed for entry-level auto mechanics?  What grease-stained dude on a creeper is interested in pledging his allegiance to Urinary Tract Infection?  The idea that they somehow did this on purpose to cement their name in the minds of potential students hasn’t surpassed me, since they blatantly refer to it as “UTI” very often in their commercials.  The fact that they thought this was a good idea, however, has totally surpassed me and left me slack-jawed and hunched over with laughter. 

3.  This next annoyance is actually a two-parter.  Annoyance #1:  Our shower is leaking.  I can only tighten the faucets so much before they strip themselves out and flood my bathroom.  The constant dripping is driving me crazy, not to mention, with the idea of a triple-digit water bill looming on my pay-strapped horizon, the insanity is reaching new levels of, well, insanity.  That’s annoyance #1 with this situation.  Annoyance #2:  When I went to Home Depot yesterday to inquire about getting new seals for my faucet, I found a very helpful man who looked me up and down and said, “Do you have a boyfriend or husband helping you with this project?”  Granted, I was totally just going to buy the seal, hand it to my lovely husband and ask him to replace the seals, but THIS MAN DIDN’T KNOW THAT (I feel that’s one of the advantages to being married: getting your husband to do stuff like this.  I cook and pay the bills.  He fixes stuff.  It’s on the marriage certificate somewhere, I’m sure.) Now,  I’ve done a lot of handy-type things in my life: I’ve installed a ceiling fan all by my lonesome (well, I was helped by three cats and several expletives.)  I’ve taken apart a garbage disposal, under the influence of a coupla drinks, and removed what looked like Styrofoam spider webs from it so that it would properly dispose of my garbage.  And oh yeah, Mr. Smarty Pants Home Depot employee?  I’ve castrated a bull before.  So continue with your completely wrong assessment of this chick, get me the damn seals, and quickly shut the F up or you’re going to be singing soprano at the next Home Depot holiday gathering.  Asshat. 

4.  “50 Shades of Grey.”  Yes, I have read the first two books in this horrid series, so yes, I feel like I can make fun of it.  The “author” is obviously lost in some world of sexual made-uppery as no one ever has had sex like this.  Not to mention that the minute some control freak millionaire tracked my cell phone to a bar, found me at the bar, and then proceeded to chastise me for drinking so much as I hurled into some bushes, I would kick him in his bathing suit area (unless he likes that.  Who knows?)  The writing is stilted, the characters are unbelievable (the main character got drunk for the first time when she hurled into the bushes.  She then continues throughout the book to drink every chance she gets, including the night after the vomiting.  You don’t jump back on the alcohol horse that quickly.  I know these things) and the plot is just this side of asinine.  I suppose the real reason I’m so angry about these works is that I’m probably just jealous that old E.L. somehow got a book deal and I’m stuck writing on my couch and not flying around the world to a host of adoring fans that for some reason like my writing.  Screw you, E.L. James.  I’ll keep my crappy writing where it belongs: on my self-maintained blog.