1 – I hate when I’m stopped in traffic and decide to be nice by letting someone in from a driveway or side street, only to have them twiddle their thumbs about it. When I decide to let you in, it’s a limited time offer. I’m not going to wait all day for you to mosey into traffic. I’m being nice here! Take advantage of it now or I’ll ram you! I actually get annoyed when people pantomime-ask if they can sneak in front of me when it’s obvious that was my intention. I tend to ruin any goodwill derived from being nice with my impatience.
2 – I hate when I pull into a parking lot to find a bunch of people parked over the lines like total assholes, then, when I come out from the store, all the other assholes are gone and I’m the only one parked like an asshole. I want to shout to anyone in earshot, “There were a bunch of assholes here who made me park like this when I got here! I swear, I’m not normally an asshole!” Then I quickly get in my car and leave in shame before I get any more “you’re an asshole” looks.
3 – I hate when the car behind me honks and the car in front of me thinks I was the one who did it. If I honk, you’ll know it. I don’t like being blamed for someone else’s actions, even if it is just a honk.
4 – Website pop up boxes on mobile phones. I hate visiting a site on my phone only to have a box pop up say, “sign up to our email list, get a free case of the herpes!” It’s annoying, but simple enough to click on the X when you’re on a computer. This easy task becomes nearly impossible on a phone. It takes a ton of scrolling and zooming just to find the X, let alone click the damn thing. By that time, I’ve forgotten why I even went to the website in the first place.
5 – Strangely labeled bathrooms. Ladies and gentlemen, men and women, even guys and gals, or simply this will work:
I don’t want to have to think about which room to use. I just want to pee. I can’t stand nonsense like this:
A full bladder tends to blot out my symbols knowledge, so I don’t know off-hand whether I’m an arrow or a cross. Neither of those is particularly intuitive of the female anatomy. Using logic, I’d say I’m a cross since that’s where the arrow would aim like a target, but I don’t want to have to use logic or think of my lady bits as a target just to pee. If you’re going to use a symbol, please, put words there, too.
6 – Vacuuming. I hate it. I also hate the word since it’s hard to spell. Does any word really need two Us in a row? Greedy. Anyway, with carpet, a dog and a cat, I have no choice but to vacuum every week. I probably should vacuum more than that, but once a week is standard. When I empty the canister–a task I find both disgusting and oddly satisfying–there’s enough fur in there to build another dog/cat from scratch every week.
7 – People who don’t understand how lines (or queues for my peeps over the pond) work. At convenience stores, 7‑Eleven in particular, it’s an unwritten rule that the queue goes along the counter away from the door. This is a diagram of the layout of your typical 7‑Eleven and the way the line is supposed to work with the black dots representing people:
Most of the time it works that way, but then comes the outlier who is somehow completely unfamiliar with the rules of convenience stores and lines up through the aisles like so:
Which of course causes everyone else to go into a panic thinking that maybe they’ve been doing it wrong this whole time. NO. I don’t care how gross those hot dogs on rollers look, you stand there. It’s the unwritten rule. Line up by the rolling hot dogs, dammit!
8 – Work meetings. I had forgotten how awful they are. At my old job, say I needed to go over something with my boss or vice versa, I would walk into his office and ask if he had a minute. If he said no, he’d call me when he did. If he said yes, I would sit down in one of the several chairs there, explain the situation and get a verdict. The whole process would take no more than a half an hour, usually 10-15 minutes.
At my current job, in addition to the process outlined above, we also have monthly production meetings, which are scheduled in advance, include everyone involved in production (that’s at least 8 regular and 4 or so rotating), take at least an hour, and accomplish precisely nothing except wasting an hour. But we all get typed up meeting minutes afterward so we can show how little we actually accomplished.
The worst is that instead of having the meeting in the conference room where there are plenty of chairs, the manager holds it in her office where there are only five chairs. If you don’t get their early or bring your own chair, you don’t sit.
9 – Extremely obtrusive panhandlers. I don’t mind if you ask me for change when I’m walking into a store, but do not come up to my car, knock on the window, and demand money from me like I owe you. No. You get nothing. Or worse, get indignant about it when I say no.
10 – Lists that claim to have 10 things on them, but then when you read them, there are only 9. It throws my mental calculations, such as they are, all off. Can’t you count or are you just lazy?
This is part 30, which means I’ve hated 300 things! Yay! Or alternately, wow, that’s really sad.
1. Stupid work signs. I refuse to acknowledge signs with bad grammar and spelling in two languages.
Why is “to prevent sewege [sic] damage” a sentence fragment in parentheses in two languages? I don’t even…
Then, there’s this hilarious attempt at a kind of irony. It tripped, missed that pile of irony entirely and did a belly-flop into another stinking pile. Then this dumb sign got up and tried to carry on with a big smear of irony across its stupid face.
2. Girl Scout cookies. I just got suckered into buying a $5 box of cookies, which are now labeled as “VEGAN!” That label means that I’ll enjoy them just a little less than I would have had they not been labeled that way, even though they’ve probably always been “VEGAN!”
From their website:
You’re seriously going to tell me that spending $5 on a box of cookies helps a girl learn about money management? Well, guess what: I bought them from her father. He walked around with an order form, pleading with his coworkers to help his kid out with sales. He took my five dollars and put my name on the form, and he will bring me my cookies. In this entire transaction, I will never even interact with his daughter.
Also, spending $5 on a box of cookies is not a sound financial decision. It’s actually terrible money management. I can get better cookies cheaper elsewhere. The only benefit is that they’re delivered to my desk at work.
3. Obvious mini commercials built into television shows. Thanks to Draliman for reminding me of this one. This is all too common lately, what with people downloading everything or watching it commercial-free on Netflix et al. Advertisers are desperate to have us see their awesome products, so they pay television shows to have their characters use it and talk about it. I couldn’t watch more than a few episodes of Netflix’s unnecessary remake of House of Cards because of all the totally obvious advertisements lying around. They’re getting sneakier about it, yet it’s still so very overt.
4. Speaking of television, I hate remakes. Why does Netflix’s House Of Cards even exist? The original is soooooo much better. Why is it when I surf Netflix for something to watch, I see Being Human (UK) and Being Human (US), Shameless (UK) and Shameless (US), etc.? Why is any of that necessary?
It’s bad enough that movies like The Departed blatantly rip off excellent foreign films like Infernal Affairs (then win awards for thievery), but at least you can kind of blame it on language (since Americans are too dumb to read subtitles, right?). But, why are there so many remakes of UK television? We speak the same language. I refuse to watch anything with (US) after the title. Shameless is right.
5.Cubicles. Who the hell thought this was a good idea? I know, let’s make people sit together in a big open area, but we’ll put up half walls to give the illusion of privacy. Um, no. There is no privacy in a cubicle. None. There are no doors and everyone can hear everything from what you’re eating for breakfast to your stinky farts. I miss my office.
6. PC keyboards. I hate them and I’m surrounded by the bastards. I have a keyboard, too, but mine doesn’t blast 101dB @ 2.83V / 1m with every press of the damn key. Why do PC keyboards have to be so friggin’ loud?
7. Multimillionaire tight-fistedness. This applies to everything from not wanting to pay taxes to trying to take health care and benefits away from the working poor in favor of the “job creators.”
When Male was in town, I took a day off (unpaid). It was just a happy accident that the day I took off was the same day they held their incredibly tardy “holiday party” in mid-January. All the bigwigs flew in to the left coast. Apparently, they catered lunch with terrible, inexpensive, and not too plentiful food, and gave a bunch of speeches. They handed out certificates or something for people who’ve worked there five and ten years (nobody survives longer than ten years). When I went back to work on Monday, my coworkers told me that they called my name in a raffle. “Oh? What did I win?” “Nothing. When they found out you weren’t here, they called another name.” Cheap bastards.
8. Taxes. Ugh, taxes. I finally got all of my W2 forms from my employers last year, so this weekend, I’ll do my taxes. I used to have an amazing accountant, but he died a few years ago. Since then, because I am poor and don’t have any deductions like kids or mortgage, I have been doing it myself. Even in the comfort of my home, doing taxes is painful. It’s such an awful antiquated system.
9. Sales calls on my cell phone. They’re usually robots that start speaking before my voice mail message is done, so by the time I hear the message it’s just “…1-800-BLOW ME now to take advantage of this special offer!” Or worse, sales text messages. I wish I could give you an example, but I delete them, because they piss me off. You hear the little text message chime and think, “Ooh, someone loves me!” Then, you look and it’s an ad for hooking up with hot singles online. Screw you! Get off my phone!
10. I hate rushing somewhere only to wait. The last time I went to the vet, I woke up late, grabbed my ornery feline, and rushed to the vet’s office with uncombed hair and one shoe. Then I sat there for a half an hour. Why do doctors always run late? Seriously, can’t they figure out a schedule by now that takes all that into account?
Facebook. Once again, Facebook makes my list. And yes, I know this doesn’t have anything to do with the holidays, but it just happened yesterday, so deal. This time, Facebook makes my list because it said that Gold Fish wasn’t my real name and it wouldn’t let me sign on without changing it. On my phone, I tried to trick it into changing it to Goldfish, but I guess I accidentally typed “Fush” instead. I tried to change it again and it said I can’t change it for 60 days. So, I’m “Gold Fush” for two months. Seriously, FUCK YOU, FACEBOOK. I don’t want to use my real name. I have stalkers.
Christmas music. Everywhere you go, there it is. With all the amazing music ever made in the world, why is it that for two months out of the year, we have to listen to the same two dozen songs over and over? I am so sick of the same damn music every year that I could claw an elf’s eye out.
Jumping the holiday gun. I went to Macy’s in October with my sister for some reason. They had Christmas decorations up before Halloween. Not A Punk Rocker posted a picture yesterday of a Valentine’s Day display up before Christmas. Why don’t we just have a holiday section all year round? You could go buy Christmas stuff in July. That’s where we’re headed.
The last-minute rush. I had to go to the store last weekend for some last-minute things I needed for the impending arrival of my parents. Everyone else was there. All of them. Seriously, people, you know Christmas is on December 25th, so why must you still be Christmas shopping on the 21st when I just need to get some cleaning supplies?
Shopping jerks. The holidays seem to bring out the worst in us. At the store last weekend, I had three people cut me off in the parking lot and one person steal a parking spot that was rightfully mine. Then, someone cut in line at the register.
Fruitcake. Seriously, what is that? Fruit and cake are both delicious on their own, but when you mash them together, it turns into gross. Yet, people still buy it. Ick. I have an hypothesis that there really are only a few fruitcakes in the world. They just keep getting passed from person to person year after year, because nobody wants to eat something older than earth with a denser molecular structure than Osmium. Before there was Homo sapiens, there was fruitcake.
The prices. Items that are selling for $5 today will be $2 next week. There’s the Black Friday dip, then prices steadily increase until the 24th. On the 26th, you can buy the same crap for half off. This also applies to travel. My parents are coming out for two weeks because it was cheaper that way. Thanks a lot, airlines, for jacking up your prices around the holidays so I have my family hanging around for thirteen days.
The “War On Christmas” nonsense. Seriously, Christians, chill, please. Nobody has started a war on Christmas. If they did, they lost the war since it’s everywhere. We say Happy Holidays so as not to exclude anyone. Also, since New Year’s Eve is one week after Christmas, it gets lumped in there. When I wish someone Happy Holidays, I mean Christmas, Hanukkah, New Year and any other holiday celebrated in the vicinity. Sometimes, I simply mean enjoy your time off. Christians, I say, it’s not all about you. There are other people in the world with other beliefs and that’s okay. Unbunch your panties.
Decorating. It seems an awful lot of work for just a few weeks. Since my mom is coming, I went whole hog this year. My sister and I went and got a real tree. Some poor tree was happily living somewhere until some dude chopped it down, dragged it to the city and sold it to some sap (me) for $40. In another few weeks, it will be in the trash. Somehow, that just doesn’t seem right. Poor little tree.
This is not a happy time of year for everyone. Since people always have and always will continue to die, regardless of time of year, some people are suffering loss. Some are battling their own demons. Still others are living in war-torn regions or they don’t even have homes. Think a little more about the people who are less fortunate than you are. That’s the real spirit of the holidays.
Negative political campaigns. Instead of focusing on the issues and how they would handle them, a lot of politicians run their campaigns on muckraking. They throw poop at their opponents hoping that some of it will stick. Whatever happened to political platforms? It seems the American public is voting more against candidates than for them.
Daylight saving time. I’ve written about this one before, but I don’t care. I still hate it and will continue to bitch about it every six months. I had to change 10 clocks in my house and car, which meant figuring out how to change 10 clocks in my house and car; not all clocks are created equal. Whether I lose or gain an hour, my circadian rhythms are all off. Either I have to force myself to sleep earlier–which, as an insomniac, never goes well–or I have to wake up earlier. But most of all, I hate how it’s dark when I get out of work now. It makes me feel like I wasted my whole day at work, which I have, but it doesn’t have to rub it in.
Car maintenance. In the last month or two, I’ve had to change a blown out brake light and add engine coolant to my car. Neither was particularly difficult, but I’d never done them before on this car. I had to research which products worked best and figure out how to do it. I spent $6 on two tiny light bulbs and $24 on a gallon of special BMW engine coolant that I had to go to a BMW dealership to get because no one else sells it. Of course, BMW takes special BMW engine coolant, because everything on BMWs is more complicated than it needs to be and more expensive. Remind me never to buy a fancy European car again, even though I do very much love my car. It’s so much fun to drive. One might even say it’s the Ultimate Driving Machine®.
Coupons. I’m really good with coupons online. I coupon code like a pro. It’s in person that I fail. I will buy a product that has a “Save $1 off this product now!” instant coupon on the front and then forget to use the coupon all of five minutes later when I check out. I’ll get it home and see the dollar I could have saved still attached to the front of the product unused. Derp.
Morning breath. Seriously, what is my mouth doing overnight that it smells like that in the morning, just a few short hours after I brushed my teeth with minty fresh toothpaste? Do spiders crawl in my mouth overnight and have a stinky party leaving their stinky spider party refuse all over my mouth lawn?
Morning hair. In addition to the spider party in my mouth, the spiders apparently have a weaving party in my hair since it occasionally looks like a bomb exploded on my head in the morning. My straight fine blonde hair that normally just hangs there without any body at all, sometimes looks like I’m a member of an 80s hair metal band, but without the headbands and shoulder pads:
What the hell am I doing in my sleep to produce such gravity-defying results? The worst is when I stumble outside to walk the dog, forgetting to tame the spidery wildness of my noggin mop and run into neighbors. Mornin’. \m/
Dribbling coffee down my shirt. I have done that twice already this morning. I’ve been drinking beverages my whole life and coffee since my late teens, yet I still can’t get it quite right. Fortunately, I’m wearing a black shirt today.
Random strangers touching me. I don’t mean accidentally bumping into or brushing against someone (although that typically alarms me, too) since that can’t be helped living in civilization. I’m talking about the kind of touching that is intentional. When someone talks to you and puts their hand on your arm or shoulder. I don’t know you. Don’t touch me, please.
Red lights for no reason. There’s a light near the dog park I go to that I always seem to get stuck at. Everyone going the same or opposite direction as me has to stop at this light. Almost every single time, there will be one, two or zero cars crossing at this light. The bulk of traffic has to stop for hardly anyone. The one or two people will go as soon as their light turns green, while the rest of us sit at a red light for another minute for absolutely no reason at all. Although, one night, there was a traffic jam when three whole cars crossed the intersection!
Running out of things I thought I had more of. I have a bin under my bathroom sink with extras of toiletries I use all the time. Because I’m terrible at remembering to buy things, I need that buffer zone of having extra. The bin has extra soap, Q-tips, shave cream, shampoo, etc. When I run out of shave cream in the shower, I replace it with the one under the sink. If all goes well, I put shave cream on my list of things to get, so I’m never entirely out of anything. Sometimes, the process breaks down and I get distracted by something shiny before I can put it on my list. Then, for a while, I have zero shave cream and hairy legs.
Thievery. I’ve been doing a lot of designs for my Redbubble shop. Whenever I post something on Redbubble, I do a search to see what else is on there in the same vein. I like to check out the competition, but only after I’ve done my own since I don’t want to be unduly influenced. What I’ve discovered is a lot of theft.
The top-selling tiger things are Calvin & Hobbes stuff. Out of the top selling T-shirts on all of Redbubble, only one is an original design, and the rest are all knockoffs of Game of Thrones, Breaking Bad, Sherlock, Pokemon, Harry Potter, etc.
In the interest of full disclosure, even I am not innocent. I have one design in my store that isn’t entirely my own of the Detroit Tigers and Red Wings logos smushed together. I wanted it as a T-shirt and I couldn’t find it anywhere, so I made it myself. Sadly, it has quickly become one of my best selling stickers.
Mediocrity. In the process of checking out the competition, I have seen a lot of unique and awesome works from really talented people. I’ve also seen more crap than I’d care to shake my shaking stick at. Not that my art is all that, but I’m pretty sure it’s not godawful, since strangers keep buying it. I’m not going to call anyone out, because that’s just mean, but there are misspellings. There are things that you can’t even be sure what they are. I know art is subjective, but there are pictures of other people’s cats on there. Why in hell would I want to own something with someone else’s cat on it? Is anyone really so into cats that they want an iPhone case with someone else’s cat?
Time. I hate how linear it is. I hate how sometimes, like during a workday, it drags on forever, while other times, like when you’re having fun, it flies by. I hate that, unless we figure out some bionic/cryogenic/cloning/sciencey stuff, I’ve probably lived more of my life than I have left, at least, with my brain intact and no need of adult diapers. Make it count, people.
I hate that nearly fifteen years into the 21st century, we’re still squabbling over race, gender, nationality, religion, sexual preference or whatever other dumbass arbitrary thing makes people hate and want to kill each other. I’ve always said that there are enough reasons to hate people individually without resorting to stereotypes.
I hate that so many of us are shackled by our own demons, myself included. I would really love to never think about all the awful things that have happened to me. I would love to put them in a box, lock it up and never look at it again. I’d love not to have PTSD, anxiety and depression. I hate that because we have such big brains, they’re so easily broken.
I hate that so many of us don’t know how awesome we are. We look in the mirror and think we’re fat, ugly or have too many unicorn horns (we really only need one). I hate that our society bases so much of its own worth on appearances instead of what really matters: brains and hearts. You have a good brain and a nice heart. Forget about your hair. Hair is a dumb concept anyway.
Homophobia, both the word and what it represents. Homophobia isn’t a phobia. Being scared of heights or spiders is involuntary, and actually quite rational, when you get down to it. From an evolutionary perspective, heights and spiders were good things to be wary of, because they presented a clear danger. Hating gay people is not a phobia. There is no evolutionary basis for it. It is a man-made construct and it’s just bigoted and dumb.
Begging the question. I’ve written about this one before, but you people still insist on using it wrong. Every time you say, “that begs the question,” when you really mean, “that raises the question,” a little bomb goes off inside my brain. I can no longer hear what you’re saying, because I’m deafened by your word bomb. STOP SAYING THAT.
Salespeople. I work in an office with a bunch of customer service representatives. I can hear their conversations even over my headphones since one of the hallmarks of salespeople is that they’re loud. They’re also disingenuous. The difference in personas is remarkable. They’ll be all chirpy on the phone with a customer and when they’re done, they’ll talk to coworkers. Their voices drop half an octave when talking normally and all the chirpiness is gone. It’s all so fake.
Rude drunks. I went to a party last weekend and my friend’s girlfriend was drunk. She became a total harpy. In a five-minute conversation with another friend, she said at least half a dozen jaw-droppingly rude things. If drinking turns you into a mean girl, perhaps you should slow your intake or you just shouldn’t drink.
I love Samara. She’s ferocious bitchtits on wheels. Because I love her and it’s Friday afternoon, I’m stealing her post idea. My list only goes to 10 though because that’s enough hate and swearing for one afternoon.
Your baby looks like something Winston Churchill shat out. Maybe once it grows some hair and it can walk, it might be cute, but right now, it’s ugly as Churchill poop and I’ll be damned if I’m gonna say that wrinkly fleshblob is cute… Shit, I’m going to have to say it’s cute. I need to get better at lying.
Please, don’t speak to me. Just don’t. I’m throwing out my best “I’ll shank you, bitch” vibe. Dammit, why do people insist on talking to me? Go away!
If you dug up my grandmother, blindfolded her and put her stinky ass behind the wheel, she’d do a better job of driving than you, you slowass wankmonkey. Get the fuck out of my way before I stab your asshole car with my asshole car, asshole.
Your dog/child is damn annoying. It’s not cute. It’s loud and irritating. Make it go away. “Forever” would be great, but I’d settle just for “now.”
What the fuck are you wearing? You do realize this is a place of business, right? It’s an office, not a street corner, supertramp. You’re not going to get any johns in here. Take it out to the boulevard, Jezebel.
Why even wear high heels if you can’t walk in them? I can’t walk on stilts, so you know what? I DON’T. You are an embarrassment to womankind. Go home and practice.
Why in the name of fucking goats did you get in line at the store without checking to see if you had enough money to pay for your crap? Handle your shit.
You are mistaken, lady, in thinking I give even one tiny fuck about your baby. Just because you allegedly have a child in that stroller, that doesn’t mean you have the right to cross the street any old place you feel like it. Stop using your child as a human shield. I will ram the shit out of that stroller if you don’t waddle your way out of the street tout suite. Hurry up!
Jesus H, do you not own a mirror or do you just not give a fuck? I really don’t want to see your butt cheeks. They look like a sack of cottage cheese. I wouldn’t have to view your cottage cheese ass if you just wore some fucking clothes.
What the fucking fuck are you even fucking doing, fuckwit? Figure it out!
Anyway, I haven’t done a Things I Hate in a while, so here we are.
1. I hate how every time there’s a disturbed mass shooter, like the one in Santa Barbara on Friday, the conversation always turns to gun control instead of the real culprit–the abysmal state of mental health services in the United States.
From personal experience, I can tell you that getting mental health care in this country, specifically in California where both the latest shooter and I live, is next to impossible. It is not fast. It is not easy. It is not cheap. You have to really want it. If you’re disturbed enough to go on a shooting spree, odds are, you aren’t going to wait around for months and months for treatment and pay out the ass for it like I did.
2. Misinformation. Here’s a helpful tip for you: Not everything you read on the internet is true. In the age of the internet and 24-hour news networks, there are a lot of reactionary stories rushed to “press” without checking or even getting facts. Investigative journalism is compromised when everyone is clamoring for information right now. Adding “alleged” in front of an action doesn’t make it any more true.
I wrote a post not too long ago about how major media outlets just repost the same baseless information they find in other media outlets and call it news without doing any investigation at all. This is not right.
3. Bad service. I know restaurants and stores get busy. If it’s quite obvious that you’re busy, I’m willing to cut some slack. I don’t mind waiting as long as the ten people who came in after me don’t get served first.
This weekend, I had lunch at one of those places where you order at the counter, sit at a table with your number and wait for them to bring your food. My friend and I ordered separately and had two numbers. Her lunch came about five minutes after we sat down. Ten minutes after that, I still had no food and I had ordered first. I ordered a sandwich. There wasn’t even cooking involved.
I walked up to the counter with anger-smoke escaping my ears and held my number up. The response I got was, “It will be right out.” A few minutes later, a lackluster employee walked up to my table and plopped down a crooked sandwich with no chips. It was supposed to come with chips.
A few minutes later, she essentially threw some chips on my table. I got no apology. I didn’t even get a half-hearted “sorry.” All I got was half of my order twenty minutes late. Fuck you. I will never eat there again. Fuck youuuuuuuuuu.
4. I hate when restaurants don’t list all the ingredients on the menu. I hate raw onions. Specifically, I hate how they’ve become standard on lunch type items like sandwiches and salads, as if every human being just loves biting into raw onion. Ick.
You’ll see something like this on a menu: The Triple Fatty Fatty Burger – five pounds of ground Angus chuck, slathered in half a gallon of BBQ sauce, topped with three pounds of bacon, an entire block of cheese, all loaded on a loaf of bread.
OK, I don’t see anything about onions in there. Cool. Then you get your Triple Fatty Fatty Burger only to find that it’s topped with all of the above and lettuce and tomato and pickles and raw onion. Dammit! Foiled again.
If there are onions in there, I want to know so I can either emphatically say, “No onions, pls,” or order something else. I always ask with things like chicken or tuna salad, because they usually chop raw onion up and hide it in there. There’s nothing worse than taking a big bite of salad only to find that they have surreptitiously sabotaged your lunch with the horrid flavor of raw onion.
5. I hate how celebrity opinions are valued. These days, people get all up in celebrities’ personal lives. It seems that if you have a modicum of fame, your views on politics or child-birthin’ can have a platform. Just because someone is on the TV, that doesn’t mean that we should give two craps about their opinion. They do a job, whether it’s sports, music, acting, etc. They’re paid to do that job and in the relative scheme of things, that job is not particularly hard. Acting is easier and requires way less knowledge than, say, neurosurgery. Stick with that.
I don’t care what celebrities have to say about anything and I damn sure don’t want robo-Scarlett Johansson on my voice mail telling me about the Affordable Care Act. Celebrities, I don’t care what you think. Go away.
6. Speaking of celebrities, I hate people who are famous for no reason. Two words: Paris Hilton. She did absolutely nothing besides have the good fortune to be born into the Hilton family and make a sex tape. Kim Kardashian. Go away. I don’t care about you, your family, your twentieth marriage or your sex tape. Whatever happened to celebrities becoming celebrities because they did something? Reality television, that’s what happened.
7. Freeloaders. I have relatives who visit my parents every summer. They sit on their asses as if they’re at a bed and breakfast while my mom does all the cooking and cleaning up after them. They do nothing. They contribute nothing. None of the three kids, ranging in age from mid to late thirties, have jobs. They all sponge off their parents. Get a damn job. Support yourself. Don’t expect other people to clean up after your messes. Get off my lawn.
8. I hate how dependent on technology I’ve become in just a few short decades. I can’t really write much by hand anymore. I’m way out of practice and my hand cramps up. I honestly don’t know if I’d be able to remember how to use a paper map or the Dewey decimal system. I can’t remember how to research things without Google. I wouldn’t know how to get in touch with anyone without my phone or Facebook. I don’t even remember my own phone number. All of that happened in just a few short years and it’s pretty scary. In another few decades, I’ll forget how to breathe without my Autonomicator 3000.
9. I hate when people try to do something nice and it ends up endangering everyone around them. For example, I was driving behind an enormous SUV today that suddenly stopped in the middle of the road. There was no light, cross walk, stop sign or any other reason I could see for stopping. Because of the size of the vehicle, I couldn’t see the pedestrian that the SUV stopped to let cross until he got to the other side of it. I nearly plowed right into the SUV because the driver was trying to be nice. I have no problem with nice. I do have a problem with nearly causing an accident because of it.
10. Bad graphic design. Specifically, so-called professional or commercial design used by companies trying to make money.
I am a graphic designer. It’s what I do for a living. Unfortunately for me, graphic design is everywhere. It’s on billboards, bumper stickers, business signs, television, sports teams, album art, movie posters, snail mail, every single product you can buy and every website out there, etc.
As a graphic designer, my brain automatically grades every bit of design I see, which is everything all the time. It’s an occupational hazard.
They paid for that? Why on earth would they use that font? The kerning is all wrong. That stroke is ridiculous. That’s way too much bevel. I can’t even read that. Is that clip art? What the hell is that even supposed to say? OW, MY EYES.
I can’t help it and I hate it. Stop doing bad graphic design, please. I beg you.
1. Earthquakes. We here in Los Angeles had one the other day. It woke me up and I wrote about it. I’m not a big fan of the earth under my feet moving. I don’t like it at all. Just when I was starting to get over it a bit, there was another one last night. My dog, my cat and I felt it. My sister did not. I looked it up, and sure enough, I was right. There had just been a 2.6 magnitude earthquake, one of 13 aftershocks since the one that started it all. Dear earth, please stop shaking. You’re making me queasy and paranoid.
2. I hate how after every earthquake or during any holiday, that’s all Facebook talks about. “Did you feel the earthquake?” I don’t mind this question asked in person. Earthquakes are remarkable and an acceptable topic of face to face conversation, but it shouldn’t be blasted all over Facebook to everyone you know. A lot of people I know live in Los Angeles, so it’s pretty annoying seeing “Did you feel the earthquake?” a hundred times in succession. Some things are best talked about one on one. Also, “It’s St. Patrick’s Day! Here’s a green post!” Blargh.
3. I hate how there’s so much awesome seasonal candy. It ends up making me gorge. During Christmas, I’m all over Hershey’s Candy Cane Kisses. They’re white chocolate with a hint of peppermint and they are the best candy on earth:
Easter is all about the Reese’s white chocolate egg:
Great, now I’m drooling on myself. Both of those candies are amazing, yet they’re only available at specific times of year. Since you can’t always find them, this means that I end up hoarding them. I found those white chocolate eggs at the store last weekend and bought three packs. That’s 18 total eggs. So, now I’m fully stocked with Reese’s eggs that I’ll have no choice but to eat. If they made these things available year-round, I might not act like such a hoarder. Damn you, candy companies, and your delicious seasonal wares.
4. Automatic flushing toilets. These seem like an excellent idea in theory. A toilet that flushes itself so you don’t have to touch it! Brilliant! In execution though, well, what the hell? These auto toilets go willy-nilly flushing themselves at random times. You walk into the stall, it flushes itself. You sit down, it flushes. You actually want to flush the toilet when you’re done with your business, it doesn’t flush. You end up having to poke the tiny fail-safe flush button they installed on the top. They really need to work out the kinks in this one. If I’m in public, I usually use my foot to flush the toilet anyway.
5. Automatic sinks and paper towel dispensers. Much like the auto toilet, the auto sinks and paper towel dispensers just aren’t very good at their jobs. You end up standing there waving your hands in front of them like the world’s worst magician. Presto! Again, great concept, poor execution. Don’t they field test these things?
6. Car maintenance. I realize that, when you buy something you use all the time that has a lot of moving parts, eventually, those parts will wear out and need replacing, but it doesn’t make it suck any less. Any mechanic, dealership, tire shop, etc., is likely to have the same pallid lights, worn chairs and sickly smell. They might even have the old candy vending machine that hasn’t been refilled since the shop opened. Having maintenance performed on your car sucks. There goes my tax refund.
7. I hate CSS. I’ve been noodling with the design of this site this week, trying to get it absolutely perfect. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about CSS, it’s that there is no such thing as perfect. There is only good enough. I added a splash page of sorts to FOG. If you clicked the header image on a page, it took you to this splash page. I wanted the header link to take you to the blog page instead. I could not for the life of me figure out how to do that.
I asked the WordPress CSS people and the people who wrote the theme I use, and they both said it wasn’t possible. That’s some bullshit. All I want to do is change a link. That should damn well be possible. I had to kill the home page, because that’s the type of tiny thing that drives me nuts. So, I wasted all that time designing a page I won’t use because I can’t change a stupid little link.
8. Tube tops. It’s getting to be summery warm here, which means a whole host of fashion nightmares are exposing themselves. Worst of these offenses is the tube top. If you have boobs, they just flop all over the place, free from all gravity. If you have no boobs, all a tube top will do is accent the fact that you have no boobs. Women, wear a damn bra, and whatever you do, don’t wear this outfit:
9. Underwear lines. The worst thing to hit fashion besides tube tops are these leggings that are supposed to replace pants. They don’t replace pants. They’re just leggings. A lot of the women ’round these parts who’ve decided leggings as pants is a good thing really shouldn’t be wearing just leggings. I chose a not entirely unpleasant ass to show you what I mean, but almost every time I see this on ladies out there, the butt in question is easily five times as large as this one:
That is not cute. It’s not sexy. It’s just kind of gross. Either wear underwear that minimizes panty lines, wear real pants, not leggings, or wear leggings that aren’t skintight. Nobody needs to see that.
10. I hate finishing a good book/television show, that has a cliffhanger, only to find out that there will be no resolution ever. I sort of discussed this in the post 6 Things American TV Shows Should Stop Doing, but this applies to books as well. If you’ve left your readers/viewers with a cliffhanger, you should be allowed one more book/show to wrap it all up, because leaving us hanging forever is some serious bullshit and makes me hate every publisher/studio.
1. Misuse of the word irony. It all started with one song. I blame her:
In case you’re twelve years old, that’s a screenshot from the Alanis Morrissette video for her song called Ironic, where she lists off a bunch of circumstances that aren’t actually ironic at all. Rain on your wedding day and a death row pardon two minutes too late may be things that suck, but they are not ironic.
Irony is the opposite of what’s expected. Rain isn’t really contrary to what one could expect from a day on the planet earth, wedding or not. Dear Alanis and everyone else who insists on not knowing what irony is, this is ironic:
There are a billion options in the English language. If you aren’t entirely sure what a word means, don’t use it. Or you could, you know, look it up:
2. Pointless arguments. Humans like opinions, particularly our own. Sometimes, we like other people’s opinions, but only if they coincide with ours.
Yes, your crayon drawing of Justin Bieber is incredibly lifelike and should be in an art gallery. No, your size XXXL ass doesn’t look fat in those jean shorts.
Awesome! That’s what I thought.
Opinions are like assholes; everyone’s got one and no one wants to hear yours. I am really deep down joyful that you have an opinion because it means we live in a free country. I have one, too. When our opinions don’t coincide, let’s leave it at that, shall we? Because there ain’t no way you’re ever going to convince me that Justin Bieber is cool and I’m not going to convince you that he’s about as musically talented as a sack full of angry cats. Let’s just agree to disagree.
3. Justin Bieber. He’s about as musically talented as a sack full of angry cats and damned if he don’t look like a total moron high out of his mind on catnip. At least he’s not flipping his hair out his face in this picture:
Have you ever really listened to a Justin Bieber song? “My first love broke my heart for the first time and I was like baby, baby, baby, oh, like, baby, baby, baby, no” are actual lyrics to this song. I’m not joshing you.
Your first love broke your heart for the first time. Thanks for clearing that up, because I might have thought your first love broke your heart for the 9.469 × 102 time. Being “like baby, baby, baby, oh, like, baby, baby, baby, no” is a perfectly rational response. That’s some amazing songwriting. Such clarity…
Man, do I feel old now. Thanks a lot, Biebs. I hope your voice drops soon.
4. The inevitable rap interlude. I’m really not sure who started this trend of interrupting a crooner song with an R&B/Rap interlude, but I wish they never had. I think it might have been Blondie actually.
Mmm drugs are fun:
Anyway, in the Biebalicious Baby song mentioned in Hate Item Number Three above, we have Biebs singing “And I was all like oooh” for two minutes and then comes Ludacris with some babbling nonsense about his first love at 13 years old and Starbucks:
And I was like what the hell does Ludacris have to do with I was like oooh? OOOOOOOOOOH. I said, oooooooh, dammit.
5. I hate when people mispronounce common words. It puts me in an awkward position. I then have to decide if I’m going to be a total superior doosh and correct them, or if I just let them go through life with metaphorical milk on their upper lip and metaphorical spinach stuck in their metaphorical teeth. That’s a lot of metaphorical. I hate when people use two metaphors in the same sentence.
Anyway, mispronunciation. I am terrible at pronouncing French–my tongue just doesn’t move that way–but I am painfully aware of my bad French. While I use common French phrases when I write, I rarely say them aloud, because I know it will come out sounding like I just had a stroke.
Don’t sound like you just had a stroke. If you are unsure how to pronounce something, there is the internet. I know those diacritics (the squiggly things next to the word “pronunciation” below) can be confusing, but nowadays, most online dictionaries have a little pronunciation button you can click to hear how something is said.
YouTube is helpful, too. For example, here is the proper way to pronounce Justin Bieber:
You’ve all been saying it wrong. Haha!
6. 3XT3M3 W3ATHER!!!!1! It’s very windy in Los Angeles today. And by very windy, I mean Chicago WINDY. There is a high wind advisory at the moment.
60 mile per hour gusts. It’s so windy that we just lost power at work for approximately 30 seconds. I lost about two sentences of this post. I don’t remember what they said, but they might have been the best two sentences I’ve ever written. I lost them because of wind. Wind!
I moved to the west coast of the United States to avoid extreme weather. I’m a temperate sort of girl. Los Angeles doesn’t usually let me down with its lovely not extremeness, but every once in a while, we have extreme wind, extreme heat or extreme cold. Right now, we have extreme cold and wind. Screw you, extreme. I want average back.
7. Computers and how they never seem to work properly. When we got our power back, I turned my computer on. I opened Microsoft Word and found that it decided to stay in some no man’s land of functionality. It wouldn’t open; it wouldn’t close. This window was all I saw.
No matter what I clicked on, this window stayed front and center on my screen. I tried hitting open. I tried hitting close. I tried force quitting it, but it said it was working fine. It lied. I force quit it anyway and it stubbornly stayed put. I force quit again and it did not go away. Finally after clicking force quit about thirty times, it actually force quit. Why do we even have a force quit option if it’s not going to force quit anything? Force quit is lies.
I’m tired of your crappy nonfunctional software. I’m looking at you, Adobe. You’ve had over twenty years to come up with a version of Photoshop that doesn’t crash every five seconds and you still haven’t managed it. Even the halfwit Microsoft Word has an Autosave function, but not you. You’re too good to save anything. My favorite crash is when you crash while I’m trying to save. Freezing while saving is so goddamn productive. (<irony.)
Either the Photoshop team is, and always has been, grossly incompetent or Photoshop is a longer running joke on society than Scientology.
8. I hate when “Stupid American” applies to me. I went to a friend’s Hanukkah party last night even though Hanukkah is over. She makes a mighty fine Matzoh ball soup. A girl from France whom I have known many years was there. I have no damn clue what she’s saying, like, ever. I understand about 1/3 of the things that are coming out of her mouth. Even though, by all accounts, she speaks English fluently, she has a very thick French accent and I, as a stupid American, can’t understand it. Most of the time, when I see her, she’ll say something that should be a recognizable French phrase like “Mm, what delicious hors d’oeuvres,” and my brain will hear this:
9. Los Angeles industry parties. The post-Hanukkah Hanukkah party I attended last night was populated mostly by people “in the industry.” I hate industry parties. You’ll get to small talking to someone around the cheese dip about cheese dip or 3XT3M3 W3ATHER!!!!1!, then the inevitable “what do you do?” question happens. However, at an “industry party,” it’s never asked as such. Instead, you will be asked, “Are you in the industry?” Apparently, in Los Angeles, there is no other industry besides the film industry. When you say “no,” this is what happens to the conversation:
The conversation ball pops under your non-industry dead weight and skitters out of frame leaving you flat on your face. That’s what “industry” parties are like. Because I enjoy messing with industry people, sometimes I ask, “which industry?” It’s usually met with a disapproving cluck. If you attend an industry party, I suggest that you take lots of booze and come up with an excuse to leave early.
10. Drunk people. To survive a post-Hanukkah Hanukkah party when you’re not in the industry, you’re going to need booze and lots of it. If done properly, the booze will help inoculate against the conversation ball popping. However, it’s a very fine line between not enough and too much booze. It’s kind of like trying to get the perfect temperature in the shower.
Too little booze and you’ll stab someone. Too much booze is an altogether different problem that is equally likely to land you in prison as making with the sober stabby-stabby.
You see, drunk people are loud and their inhibitions are gone. They tend to talk and repeat themselves a lot. They think everything they say and do is interesting to everyone and they cannot see the look of boredom/murder in their audience’s eyes. Alcohol makes you annoying to be around unless you are around other drunk people.
At a party, especially one around this time of year, it’s a safe bet that there are other drunk people there. Go hang out with them. Do not bother the sober people. Do not get stabbed because you’re drunk. Sober people are sober, which means they can actually handle a knife, unlike you who can’t even walk two paces without falling over like Santa.