Thanks, Satori.org for the image...
Things I probably will never understand:
Low rise athletic shorts: Really? I spend half my energy keeping my drawers up! The last thing anyone at the gym, grocery store, hardware store, nail salon (yes, I wear shorts everywhere) needs to see is my bum. It’s even whiter than my blindingly un-tanned legs (plus, it’s darned big)!
Telemarketers, asking for money, that are rude. Okay, here’s the deal: I have something you want. Or at least you THINK I have something you want. Don’t you think it would be wise to at least be nice, and make an attempt to pronounce my name properly? And if you can’t properly say my name, ask or don’t try to use it. It’s a lot less offensive than bumbling it up and acting as if someone has that name in real life.
Bad Drivers. This is a whole category, so here’s just a couple:
- People who enter the freeway at 35 mph. Clearly, the driving test was not available in their native language: MORON. Same goes for those that insist on sidegating you. Also those lovelies that hang out in the fast lane at 55 when the speed limit is at least 10 mph faster. And don’t get me started on the electric car owners that drive solo in the carpool lane (legally), barely faster than the regular lanes. I swear they think they are incognito cops, saving the rest of the world from the woes of going the speed limit (or a touch above). Step on the gas or get out of my way people! Didn’t anyone ever tell you the carpool lane should be treated as an Autobahn?
- The neighbor that parks in “your” spot on the street. Yep, every day for 10 years and they still haven’t figured it out? Oh, and listen: hear that? It’s the car alarm for the car she’s had forever. Goes off all the time. And no – it’s an early 90’s mini-van, so no one is attempting to steal it. In fact, I think she might be grateful if someone stole it! (No one even locks our cars in this neighborhood, anyway.)
My husband claiming he doesn’t know where the dishes go. Seriously? Pal, you’ve lived here as long as me. You found them to cook/eat. Tell the truth – you just didn’t WANT to unload the dishwasher & load your dirty dishes from when I was gone. The up side? It looks as if he ate fairly well while I was gone. Hmm… Guess that’s not really an upside where the dishes and me are concerned.
Recorded political messages. Unless you’re someone uber-famous, I don’t want your recording bugging me. If you’re a celebrity, it’s kind of fun for me to say “Dustin Hoffman called my house last night”. (He didn’t really. The last one I remember was Arnie when he wanted to be Governator.) The novelty wears off quickly though.
TV ads for politicians. I think if those were banned, we might end up with decent people running things. Voters would be forced to read about what each candidate stands for. Either that or vote based on name or what kind of pattern you can make with hanging chads. Either way, I think we’d be better off.
from Microsoft Clip Art
Adults’ obsessions with tween/teen things. Examples include Twilight (ghost/vampire stories in general), Harry Potter, Miley Cyrus, Jonas Brothers, et al. I’m not really judging, but I just don’t get it. Actually, what I don’t get is the need to attempt to convince non-kool-aid-drinking friends into loving it all. You people are worse (in that regard) than the door to door religion recruiters! So if you’re my friend – shut it! I don’t force my opinions on you (verbally anyway).
The letter carrier who doesn’t take outgoing mail from the mailbox. Yes, you can see it. Unless it’s every other Monday, chances are really good that it’s your fault it’s there – BECAUSE IT WAS MISDELIVERED! The rest of the time – it’s simple. I am sending someone something. Isn’t it your job to take it to the post office? How about you get off your cell phone and pay attention? That’s what the rest most of the world does when they work.
What’s up with products that include contradictory instructions? I not so recently bought a down comforter. It was relatively cheap inexpensive. The outer packaging said it could be machine washed/dried (ultra-handwash of course). The tag on the comforter says no. The whole reason I bought it was because I was supposed to be able to wash it. Well, that and to keep warm. So I’ve washed it. A few times (so there!). And it lived. Sure it probably leaked some feathers, but we’re in SoCal. We didn’t need ’em.
(Guess what – I’ve ripped the tags off my mattress too! Shhh—- don’t tell!)