40 More Things That Bug Me
Updated: Jul 2, 2021
[Listen to an audio version of this blog here.]
This is, again, not an exhaustive list. It's also not serious, so calm down, Debbie.
Traffic. This requires no explanation.
When the Trader Joe's check-out clerk asks about my "fun weekend plans." This type of small talk is not only pointless but emotionally laborious. Maybe my fun isn't your fun, and I don't feel like explaining my fun or lack thereof.
The way jeans are too small and then stretch out too big after you wear them for 90 seconds.
Vocal fry.
Soggy fries.
When people argue about politics online, double hate for spelling errors, triple hate for the dick who points out spelling errors.
Cat hair: love my cat, hate his hair. This will never change.
Those who are easily offended by jokes. Life is short, lighten up.
Rules. I just don't agree with most of them.
When you mishear someone four times in a row and just give up trying and the conversation enters linguistic purgatory. Would it have been a good conversation? We'll never know.
Those pop-up Halloween stores that sell plastic butterfly wings and toxic, Crayola-adjacent makeup.
Sugar-free candy. You'll get diarrhea if you eat too much. You're welcome.
First dates. The how-what-where-why of myself is getting very dull.
County fair games that are rigged so you don't win that $0.02 teddy bear. Also the golden-toothed men who leer at you and try to sell you their nauseating plastic prizes. The Earth is on fire, but yes, I'd like a giant pint stuffed rhinoceros to add to the ever-growing landfills.
Flavored beef jerky. I don't understand.
Weathermen/women/people. They just don't seem necessary. Go outside. Look outside. I don't need you to point at a cloud and tell me "that's where rain lives."
Gas stations without bathrooms. I guess I'll just pee out back like Old Yeller then.
Books and movies about dogs, because the dog always dies the moment you fall in love with it and that's some emotional turmoil nobody asked for.
The random people who ask to be my Facebook friend. I don't want any more friends. I don't know you. Brush your teeth.
Dollar General: not everything is $1 and most things aren't worth $1. Make it make sense.
My own cooking.
Small dogs with big voices.
People with big voices.
Off-brand Cheerios, they're just not good.
Hyperbole as a concept, not a word.
Men who pretend to like the outside but actually don't. You're an indoor cat, and that's okay but don't act like an outdoorsman. The flannel and Timberland's aren't fooling anybody.
Gift shops. Also the people who buy the overpriced rhinestone-encrusted Grand Canyon T-shirt at the gift shop and then wear it while in the Grand Canyon.
Complainers. On behalf of myself and the entire world, please shut up. I recognize the irony here, Brenda.
People named Scott and any related product.
IPAs and the flannel-wrapped men who blindly sing their praises.
Replacing windshield wipers. It seems unnecessarily difficult.
Hobbyist golfers and their obsession with mediocre beer and plaid pants.
Unsolicited opinions and advice. Talk less. Look inward. Align your chakras. Sing the blues.
The moment someone asks what podcasts you listen to as a way to draw erroneous conclusions about you based on their own judgements of said podcasts.
The lint in the dryer of communal laundry rooms. Also the faded, stretched out thong someone left in the washer and the dusty, decades-old bottles of sensitive skin Tide.
When the manicurist shames me for having short nails. I don't need talons on my fingers, Karen, I've got stuff to do.
Those mystery flavored Dum Dums. They're weird and never good.
Exceedingly full trash cans and dumpsters. Humans are gross.
When I move somewhere new and mistakenly order things to my old address and whatever I ordered ends up on the island-of-misfit-Amazon returns somewhere off the coast of Lima.
Ticking clocks, grandfather clocks, analog clocks, bank clocks, and clocks that show military time.
Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk. To see some real Ted Talks, go here.
I strongly suggest writing a list like this of your own for two reasons: one, it's a bit therapeutic. It allows you to complain without really complaining. And two, it's fun. It's a wee bit creative. And you might find someone who hates the same things you do. According to science, shared dislikes build stronger bonds than shared likes. You're welcome.
P.S. Watch this video about the day in the life of a carnival worker here, read about the benefits of military time here, or read about the origin of vocal fry here.
xoxo
Sarah Rose