1. I hate that Alanis Morissette ruined irony with that song of hers and the hipsters have taken up the mantle. Rain on your wedding day is not ironic. It sucks, it’s annoying, it’s many things, but it is not ironic. It’s really just an inconvenient circumstance. Hipsters these days do things in the name of Alanis’ form of irony, e.g. wearing a Powerpuff Rangers shirt or drinking Pabst Blue Ribbon. This isn’t ironic either. It’s moronic and daft, but there is no irony in that. I have a ZZ Top shirt because I happen to like ZZ Top and it’s a cool shirt. Someone once asked me if I was wearing it ironically. Quelling the natural instinct to rip their eyeballs out with my fingernails, I answered no.
2. I hate it when I injure myself in my sleep. For instance, this morning, I woke up with a neck so stiff that I can’t turn my head to the left. One would think that, at some point during my brief sleeping hours, my neck would have told my brain, “hey, I’m starting to get stiff. Could we get some help over here? Roll over or something.” Alas, no. My brain was apparently too busy devising stupid dreams that I don’t remember anyway to be bothered by the fact that my neck was in severe pain. Stupid, stupid brain.
3. Parents who think everyone cares about their precious little snowflake as much as they do. I live right by a public park where, every weekend without fail, there is a birthday party for some little rug-rat. That’s fine. Use my tax dollars to throw a party for your child. As long as you clean up afterwards, it’s fine by me. It’s not the party that bothers me; it’s the people getting to or coming from it. They will blindly push their massive strollers right into the street, not at a crosswalk, without even looking, as if I couldn’t possibly conceive of running over a baby. Guess what? Not only have I conceived it, but I’m conceiving the hell out of it right now as you waddle across the street with your fat little tike on wheels. I don’t care any more about your baby than I do about you, i.e. not at all. Quit using your child as a human shield and use the crosswalk.
4. The lunatic fringe. I mean the people who believe in alien abductions, the Reptoid hypothesis or yet another date set for the apocalypse. Just because it’s on the internet, that doesn’t make it true. This also includes people who believe in crystals, fortune telling, seances, psychics, etc. I know, the future is a scary thing, with it being unknown and all. It’s nice to have the illusion of control over chaos. However, most of those things are just bunk. Still, believe what you want as long as it doesn’t end up like Heaven’s Gate or The Jonestown Massacre, and you’re not preying on the gullible.
5. I hate calling a company, being asked by a computer to enter my account number “for faster service” and then being asked for the exact same information by the customer service person. Why did I punch in all of those stupid numbers if the person at the end of the wait is just going to ask me the same thing anyway? Was it just a stall tactic to make me seem like I’m on hold for less time by forcing me to be interactive? Either have the phone system ask me for my account number or the customer service representative, but not both, please.
6. I hate waiting in line behind lottery/scratch off card buyers. First, they usually buy tickets every day, so they know the cashier and have a chat. That’s fine if no one is in line, but if I’m standing behind you, you’re holding up the line. Second, tickets take for-fucking-ever to ring up. Usually, the customer is cashing in a previous ticket that’s worth a dollar, so it’s like two transactions in one. The old one is redeemed, the new lottery ticket has to be printed, rung up then paid for. The scratch off tickets are just as bad, if not worse, since people rarely buy just one. It’s always “I’ll take one Captain Millionaire, one Treasure Chest of the Caribbean, one Ace of Scratchers, one Lucky 12, one Lucky 6, one Lucky 8, no, no, not the Lucky 88, the Lucky 8, yeah, that’s it, and the Scratchtastic Megascratch. Oh, and one Sir Scratchalot and a Lucky 88.” Sometimes, once they receive them, they can’t wait to get a-scratchin’ and feel the need to do it right there while they’re still in line leaving that weird silver/gray scratch off substance behind.
7. Meetings. Fortunately, my current workplace doesn’t really schedule meetings. If I have one, it usually starts with, “Hey, can you come into my office for a minute?” and it literally takes just about a minute. But, I have experienced enough of them in my previous workaday corporate jobs that I feel comfortable adding them to the list. The scheduled variety of meeting is an awful idea. Say you have a meeting at 11am. Unless you have to prepare for said meeting, odds are pretty good that you will do nothing from 9am to 11am. You rationalize it by thinking that you don’t want to start something you can’t finish before the meeting. Once you are in the meeting, as you sit there being bored out of your wits by things that most likely don’t even pertain to you, all you want to do is get out of it. You doodle and daydream about what you’re going to have for lunch. That time could have been better spent doing your job. Meetings of more than two or three people rarely accomplish anything. And if they do, they end up taking more time than needed to get there.
The worst are meetings with outside consultants. These consultants are paid lots of money to come in and show you pie charts of how you could be doing your job better. All motivational speakers accomplish is creating a room full of resentful employees. They resent the implication that, by hiring a motivational consultant with money that could have gone towards their own salaries, their employer seems to be saying that they’re not valuable. They even come to resent the fact that they could be doing the same job the speaker says they suck at instead of sitting in a room listening to someone spin idiotic acronym mnemonics and inspirational quotes.
8. I hate inadvertently picking up the one item in a whole store without a bar code. While holding up the box of tampons that I was foolishly trying to purchase discreetly, the cashier asks, “Do you know how much this is?” as if I should know. I hazard my best, inaccurate guess, “I don’t know… three dollars?” The inaccuracy is not because I’m so rich that price means nothing to me, but because stores no longer put price tags on items; they have the price tag on the shelf. I make the decision whether to buy an item when I’m in the aisle and price doesn’t usually hang around in my brain waiting for checkout. The cashier gives me a distasteful look, which (rightfully) implies that I would make a lousy contestant on The Price is Right. The cashier confers with the manager, and after a seemingly interminable wait, they determine the price, which of course, isn’t even close to three dollars. Meanwhile, everyone behind me in line is (rightfully) annoyed by the delay and is now aware that I’m buying barcode-less tampons as I look for a way to hide unsuccessfully. “Price check on adult diapers. Price check in lane 5 on adult diapers, 60 pack with extra absorbency.” Horrifying.
9. I hate showing up fashionably late to a party to find that I’m the first person there. L.A. time usually means an hour later. If a party says it starts at 9pm, it actually means 10pm. So, if you show up at 10:30, you think that might be a safe bet. Nope. It’s leap year. 9pm really means 11pm, silly rabbit! Didn’t you get the memo? Anyway, I hate being first because I’m socially awkward, completely sober and there’s always that niggling fear that I will be the only guest to show up. When someone else does finally arrive, I am ever so grateful. It means that I won’t have to console the host or hostess because no one came to their party and I am free to leave.
10. I hate friendships where I always have to be the decision maker. Where do you want to have dinner? I don’t care. What do you want to do tonight? I don’t know. What movie do you want to see? It doesn’t matter. There are times when we genuinely don’t know what we want to eat, do or see, and that’s fine, but when you never know ever, that’s when I have a problem. Make a suggestion at least. Living at the whim of others is no way to go through life, son.