Welcome, new friends and old. If we are to get to know each other (and I hope we are), it’s only fair that I should warn you: Lots of things annoy me. My annoyance level ranges from mild (people who say “cue-pon”) to thermonuclear (people who say “acrosst”) on any given day. I am steadfast in my devotion to The List, and rarely fickle or non-committal with regard to the objects of my agitation. There is always room for shiny new annoyances, but hardly ever occasion to abandon the tried and true – the trusty soldiers that have beleaguered me for decades, and, God Willing and the Creek Don’t Rise, always will. So let’s get to it, shall we? I don’t have all day.
Bad Grammar*: This is a big one. Those who know me know that this is the surest and most reliable way to torment me, and many enjoy wielding it simply for this reason. This doesn’t typically end well for them. I don’t tolerate misspelling and will boycott without hesitation any business, product, or person who abuses apostrophes (please note: there is no apostrophe in “apostrophes”) or who cannot get a handle on basic homophones (like there, their, they’re). Mind you, I am not opposed to lazy letter-formatting or conversationally appropriate missteps – I mean, you obviously sound like a bigger tool saying things like “There are things up with which I simply will not put” than you would if you just rolled with that floating preposition. The trick is knowing the difference. *Disclaimer: I am not a teacher and I am not perfect. I do not profess to know every last Rule Of Grammar. I’m just talking about a basic grasp of your Mother Tongue, folks. Let’s move on. This is exhausting.
Skinny man-jeans: Not OK, not ever, not on anyone. Not even you. The word “garlicky:” I realize this is irrational. I don’t care. Ironic facial hair (most especially the soul-patch): If you are not Apollo Ohno, please, for the love of Spandex and Bandanas, don’t try it. (If you ARE Apollo Ohno, call me. *makes finger telephone and winks, slyly*) Judgy Hipsters: Yes, dude. I forgot my re-usable hemp sack. But I’m pretty sure those edgy non-prescription spectacles of yours will be sitting in the landfill longer than this plastic grocery bag for which I just had to prostrate myself. So bite me, bro. The United Parcel Service: this is a doozy, and will likely end up the subject of its very own rant one day. So I won’t spoil the fun now – suffice it to say, Oh. Em. Eff. Gee. The expression “Bucket List” obviously enrages me (along with its newer, even vaguer replacement in Motivational Speaker circles, “Leap List”): Someone, please, just make it stop. Anyone who is not a ship’s captain or ferryman who freely refers to their “wheelhouse” will clearly be judged and scorned in great dramatic fashion. Just so you know.
Paper towels with festive accents: White. They are just supposed to be white. Those tiny apple pies and Christmas bells are not getting my counter any cleaner, and frankly, they freak me out a little. Jazz Shoes: Why does God hate me? Anything “rheumy” or “oozing:” I’m sure you understand. Also, nothing good has ever come from use of the word “smear.” Things that sound delicious, but aren’t: For example, sweetbreads. “Going viral:” Honestly, can we maybe, like, come up with something that doesn’t conjure projectile vomiting or horrifying hospice images to describe these wildly popular Internet phenomena? Confederate Flags: Time to let go, folks. People who insist upon using NOUNS as verbs: Parent. Journal. Plate. Medal. All nouns. Don’t f*ck with me on this. I will crush you.
In the interest of time (and in the interest of me not missing any of The Real Housewives of NJ), I’m just going to list the rest in short form: self-righteous vegetarians, tailgaters, people who still say “manscaping,” racists, homophobes, stinging nettles, celebrity perfumes, Gary Busey, most kinds of squash, adorable kid singers, people who say “bru-SHET-uh,” licky envelopes, and finally, the single most upsetting word in the English language: “mouthfeel.” Obviously, friends, this is only a partial list and barely puts a dent in the Things That Annoy Me. However, after composing this summary and the trauma of reliving all of these horrors at once, I find myself distressed to the point of needing a Xanax to equalize my heart rate. (Dammit. Note to self: Add “Not having any Xanax” to The List, stat.)
And lastly, something you should definitely know for your own health and safety: I become dangerously unhinged by the phrase “Brown Out.” That is all.