I didn’t post yesterday because I was generally pissy and didn’t have anything to say. Today? Still pissy, but much more specifically. Today I know what’s bothering me and it’s a list full. Been awhile since I’ve posted a “cojones list”, so here you go:
Mall Kiosks and Carts: No, you may not see my phone. No, I don’t want to try your sea salt scrub. I don’t care if it came from the Red Sea, the Salton Sea or Chicken of the Sea, stop approaching me with a palm full of dubious goop and attempting to rub it on me. And a big double hell no, I do not want you to whiten my teeth right here in the middle of the mall walkway in front of a boatload of strangers. I know my teeth could be whiter, but I’m not letting some high school dropout who couldn’t find a better job stick his hands in my mouth. Screw all of you! Move your ass out of my way so I can buy my overpriced lotion at Bath & Body Works and go home.
Twitter: I tried it (@StarkRavingLAB). I didn’t like it. May be I’m not sufficiently needy or desperate for attention. I don’t need to know about the last time a celebrity took a dump or where everyone I know in the Twitter-verse is at any given time, and I’m certainly not sharing those things about myself. It’s impossible to follow a “conversation” with all the Tweeting and Retweeting and blah, blah, blah. It’s all just noise to me. It gives morons (present company excluded) an opportunity to spout off about things they don’t understand without offering any backup or rationalization. It’s like diarrhea of the keyboard. Quick, dirty and forgotten in a flash. No thank you.
And while I’m on the topic of social networking, People who share a Facebook account with their spouse: What the hell? Is there a reason you don’t have individual accounts? Does one of you have no friends? Is there a level of mistrust in your relationship that prevents you from communicating with others without your spouse’s review and approval? I don’t get it. And that ridiculous smashup of your two names that you use as your FB account name? Lame.
People who come to my office, ask me for a favor and then bitch me out while I perform said favor. A couple who lives in the community in which I work recently stopped by the office to ask if anyone here is a notary. I told them that I am, and while I was notarizing their paperwork they started bitching me out about how crowded the pool is, how they need a bigger clubhouse and how their new fence didn’t get approved. Really? So glad I could stop what I was doing (i.e. my job), perform a free service that you would have to pay for elsewhere and get my ass chewed out for my trouble. It also happened to me when I agreed to drive to a resident’s home to notarize a document for their ancient mother who couldn’t leave the house. Seriously. I got in my car, drove to their house, notarized their documents and got treated like shit about things over which I have no control. Lesson learned. My notary seal is officially expired for them.
Snakes: I hate them. They love me. The live in my yard and greet me on dog walks. They live in my attic and shed their nasty skins. Much like Visa, they’re everywhere I want to be. Want to know the last time I saw a live snake? Yesterday at 5 pm while I was walking to my car after work. It was right there on the sidewalk like it had every right to be in my path. It was a baby snake, so I’m really looking forward to meeting it again when it’s all grown up this summer. I’m like a frigging snake magnet. If you have kids who want to see a snake just have them stand next to me and one will be right along.
All Atlanta drivers except me: Hang up, wait your turn and for the love of God use your damn turn signal. That is all.