We all have things that drive us batty, right? Sometimes a bit crazier than average? Well, I seem to be in a cranky-puss mood the last couple of weeks–yes, my ribs still hurt like hell; no, I haven’t found a medical professional in Arizona who can bring me any relief; yes, I’ve tried every combination of over-the-counter medication; no, I’m not super enthused about needing narcotics every single day; yes, this has been going on for almost a month solid!
So, instead of trying to get my hearts-and-flowers-and-smooshy-Valentine’s jam on, I’m just gonna work with what I’ve got. Irritation and general annoyance. *For the record, I actually like Valentine’s Day, not the huge romantic gestures part of it, but things like frosted sugar cookies and construction paper hearts on every conceivable surface.
- Ribs, skeletal issues, body parts that hurt and will not be comforted. Ya’ll, I’m nearing the part where I am literally driven crazy by a back and neck and shoulder that just will not quit. I can see how people with chronic pain will go to drastic measures for a chance of reducing the pain. If a fairy-doctor told me to climb Mt. McKinley and locate the rare blue flower with red leaves, make it into tea, and then pour it over my head, I would book airfare to Alaska immediately.
- Pants that are too short. I realize the capri and ankle-length pant have been “in” for quite a while, and I’ve tried, I really have, but I just feel like my pants are too short.
- Nasty drinking water. Yes, it’s wet and nourishing, but I don’t want it to taste like iron, or dirt, or feet.
- People who don’t use their blinker. JUST LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU ARE PLANNING ON DOING BEFORE YOU SWERVE YOUR ENORMOUS, MOVING, HUNK OF STEEL RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME.
- “Just for show.” I see stuff all over the place that is styled or Photoshopped to within an inch of it’s life in order to sell a particular idea, feeling, or encourage some kind of purchase. This drives me crazy; it just seems so fake and disingenuous.
- Ditto pockets on clothing that are not actually pockets, just pretend pockets. STOP LYING TO ME, POCKETS!
- I won’t eat chicken, or popcorn, or spicy food, or raisins, or blueberries, and half the time I will pick olives off whatever food they have sullied and the other half of the time I’ll put one on each finger and eat them like lollipops.
- Donald Trump. Just, no. No, no, no.
- The nine prickly hairs that incessantly grow on my chin. And the one dead center in the middle of my chest. Why!?
- Autocorrect. Hate, loathe, despise. Refer to it as Autocucumber at all times, out of spite.
- When people ask questions that can EASILY be answered by Google. I mean, I suppose I appreciate the thought that you assume my brain has the all-reaching power of a supercomputer, but why can’t you just look it up yourself? This is particularly annoying when people ask this kind of crap online/on social media.
- Those pop-up windows asking you to join a mailing list/download the mobile app after you’ve been on a website for approximately 2 seconds. Um, hello? I don’t even know who you are/what you offer/how you live your life. WHY WOULD I WANT TO AGREE TO GIVE YOU MY EMAIL ADDRESS OR ACCESS TO MY PHONE APPLICATIONS!?!?!
- The suburbs. I am not adjusting well.
- Emojiglyphics. The cute little smiley faces are fine; adding a heart or a prancing pony or whatever after your message is fine. Substituting words for sort-of-applicable pixelated images? Stop. (Also, why is this a default setting in my phone!?)
- Dark tan paint, the kind that covers the interior of almost all households in Arizona. I would take builder’s beige in a heartbeat over this yellowy-brown, it’s seriously the color of sad cardboard and was on every. single. vertical surface. I’ve got 2 rooms left to repaint and they are taunting me.
I’ve made a list of things I hate before; the carry-overs are popcorn and chin hair, although I have more chin hairs now than I did then. (Sob!) What do you hate? What drives you crazy? Pet peeves? Annoyances? Eye-roll generators?