1. I hate this “white whine” or “first world problem” nonsense. You’ll go through a diatribe about how your computer just crapped out and you lost an hour’s worth of work and someone will respond with “first world problem” meaning that if I were living in a hut somewhere without indoor plumbing, I would have bigger things to worry about. Well, that’s probably true, but I don’t live in a hut. I live in America where I’m paid to do work on a computer that loses work and it’s goddamn annoying. All you’re doing by saying “first world problem” is annoying me even more than the piddly little problem I started out with. I know my complaints are meager and pathetic on a grand scale. Hell, this whole Things I Hate series could be considered “white whine.” That my little first world problems are negligible doesn’t stop them from annoying me. Losing an hour of work sucks, no matter who you are. You know what else is a “first world problem”? Getting bludgeoned to death for saying such a stupid phrase.
2. Modern cars. I wrote a thing about car shopping. God, what an awful experience. Most people don’t know much about fixing cars, and if they do, they know how to fix old cars, the kind without computers. Even your average weekend mechanic doesn’t know which computer chip is failing and where because you need fancy diagnostic equipment for that. Cars these days are more advanced than the computer on which I do my actual job, which means they’re more inscrutable and expensive to fix.
3. I hate that I no longer buy CDs. This one is entirely on me and I could do something about it if I weren’t so poor and lazy. Time was, musicians made music, we’d all go out and buy it and then pay to go see them perform it live. Nowadays, musicians make music, we all steal it and watch a YouTube video of them playing live. How do they make any money? I’d hate to be a musician nowadays. Besides not giving back to the artists who have given me much joy, I no longer have a physical tangible product. I miss reading liner notes and scrutinizing the artwork. I should start buying CDs again, but I hate giving money to the record companies.
4. Spam. I hate coming home and finding a flyer on my front door. I hate going out to my car in the morning and seeing a damn flyer under my windshield wiper. 70% of all mail I get at my house goes right in the shred/recycle/fireplace pile. 80% of all email I receive is spam. Who reads this crap? I especially hate getting spam on my phone. It all gets deleted or thrown out without so much as a glance because I make a point of not even looking at it just so that your spam time has been completely wasted. Good job.
5. I hate that people die way too young. I hate that there will be no more Beastie Boys. I hate that several of my Facebook friends are, in fact, deceased and yet, every once in a while, they show up in my news feed because someone tagged them. The other day, I saw a post by my friend Michelle, and it freaked me out for a second. It’s nice that people are remembered after they die, but there’s got to be a limit to how long a Facebook page should stay up after a death. For the record, when I die, please remove my Facebook page ASAP. Either that, or post as me, e.g., “oooooooooh, I’m haunting you from beyond the grave…”
6. Music keyboards. I’m not talking about the organ or the piano, but keyboards. Although, really, I’m not a big fan of the piano either. I’m all for computerizing music. People are making music in their mom’s basement that wouldn’t have been possible 20 years ago. Great. Cool. Sure. Whatever. But people are still using keyboards. Why? Stop that. Pro-tip: keyboards have never been cool. Either get a real instrument or go full-computerized. Stop using a dorky 80s hybrid.
7. Weirdly familiar messages from strangers. This is the age of the internet. People can know each other really well without ever having met, but I’m talking about acquaintances. This variety hangs out in the same online places you do and there’s a sense of familiarity there. Like neighbors, you coexist on the internet. You see them regularly and you might exchange a nod, but you’ve never really talked. Then one day, your internet neighbor shows up at your cyberspace door and asks sex advice out of nowhere. Um… what? I don’t really know you. You don’t really know me. Why would you ever think I’d be the right person to ask for sex advice? Go away, creepy internet person.
8. Whatever the fuck this is about:
In case your brain is exploding from trying to figure out which particular brand of idiocy that is, that’s a stroller with a dog in it. It’s not a kid’s stroller with a dog thrown in it. Oh, no, that’s a stroller specifically designed for a dog. You know, canis lupus familiaris. Dogs have legs, typically four of them, and unlike infant children, the vast majority of dogs do possess an ability to walk and even run. In fact, most dogs love to run and walk and don’t like being cooped up. So, why in the name of fuck would you buy a stroller for your dog? They’re not cheap either. I checked. They start at about $80 and go up to several hundred plus. I’ve seen two moronic women pushing their preposterous toy dogs around in these ridiculous things in the last couple of weeks. Next time I see one, it’s getting cow-tipped.
9. Fire ants. We have them in my yard. I viciously stepped on one that was cruising dangerously close to my sleeping dog in the backyard. The little fucker got squished dead under my mighty flip-flop of doom, and then did an amazing postmortem back flip up and onto my foot landing precisely between my toes, where I didn’t notice him. The next step I took was pure fire. The next five hours worth of steps were pure fire, too. How can something so small hurt so much when it’s already dead? Nothing should be that deadly after it’s already dead. Fuck those things. They’re all getting squished from now on, only I’ll make sure I’m wearing proper extermination shoes.
10. Completely forgetting the most brilliant idea ever known to man. You’re in the shower, driving, performing neurosurgery or some other activity where writing something down would be inconvenient or impossible, when you have the best idea of all ideas. This idea is so ideariffic that you could kick yourself for not having thought of it sooner. It’s so simple. It’s so brilliant. How could nobody else have thought of it? No matter. You’ve thought of it now. It’s your idea and it will change the world! And then you dry off/put the car into park/scrub the blood and brain goo off your hands and realize you can’t remember the idea at all anymore. It had something to do with showering… or driving… or neurosurgery… no, it didn’t. That’s just where you thought of it. Crap, what was it?