I didn't intend to create an ongoing series listing the things that I loathe, but nonetheless here's a few more of life's little annoyances, and Part One in case you missed it. But I know that as a faithful blog reader you would never miss any of my insightful and mature posts. I'm practically the next Dr.Phil already, only without the cornball analogies. Well, and I do have the trademark mustache.
1. Using public bathrooms makes me hyperventilate, especially if my kids are with me. There's nothing worse than examining every stall for that one sanctified toilet worthy of you and your cootyphobic rear end. You know the one where you open the door and the angels start to sing, "Hallelujah", and you swear that those are heavenly sunbeams shining down on the glorious gleaming white potty, only to plop down on the seat and find that it's wet. My mind races while sitting there if this is someone else's nasty pee I'm marinating in and now I'm going to die of a dreaded urine based disease, or is it just the droplets of toilet water that sprayed up when the previous roosting person flushed?
2. There's a silent killer stalking my shirts......the dreaded TOOTHPASTE BOOB! I lean way over my sink when I brush my teeth to ensure dental hygiene perfection. Unfortunately, the boobage dangles way over the sink with me. I've lost count how many times I've looked down to see the telltale white frothy streaks across the boobal area. Oh yes, they call me "The Streak!" Between the errant deodorant lines that show up on my clothes combined with the toothpaste drips, The Streak comparison is well deserved.
3. There are those who walk among us that are hiding a most disturbing secret; they lick their fingers while in the buffet line. If I ruled the world, this "special" group of people would be rounded up and sent to their own quarantined little "Hog Heaven Buffet", where they can sit around and slurp their food, cut in line, let their kids run roughshod over the restaurant, and lick themselves clean like an animal instead of using the more conventional napkin. I ALWAYS end up behind these less than genteel folks. ALWAYS. What makes them think that other people want to touch the germy serving spoon they used after lovingly caressing their soiled hand with their own tongue? I saw a grown woman contentedly lick her arm like a fleshy lollipop after dribbling ice cream onto it at the Sweet Tomatoes buffet. My 7 year old daughter, Caterpillar, offered her a napkin and sweetly said, "Here, I think you might need this!" The lady looked mortified. Good. I'm raising my kids in the ways of righteousness and good buffet manners. We're on a Potluck boycott, but that's another horror for another time.
4. Where in Murphy's Law did it mention that if you clandestinely try to pull a wedgie out of your butt, someone will inevitably spy you and your butt picking activities? I'm serious. If the world comes to an end I know that as the last woman left on earth I'll be able to find the last man simply by reaching around to pull out my creviced panties. When I look up, he'll be right there with that jeering, "I know what you're doing" smile. Jokes on him though. Fine, see if I'll repopulate the earth with you now, sucker!
Anything you want to add? This is the place for all those negative thoughts you had to set delicately aside in order to write in your Oprah approved Gratefulness Journal. Come on, let your inner whiny complainer roam freely. Confession is good for the soul and good for blogging too!
25 comments:
ooh we call number 4 hungry arse... Anyway some of my real hates are:
people at supermarkets who don't wash their hands after using the toilets and who then proceed to handle fresh fruit and veg.
the jerks who leave their food and drink waste on the Kindertransport memorial
people who must park diagonally over at least 3 parking spaces.
I will be back with more.. If I limit peeves to 3 a post I can help you make it to at least 300 comments!!
In England it is not considered rude to do things like blow your nose at the dinner table... I never could get use to that. It makes my stomach turn to think of it.
My husband's really really sweet aunt has pretty stinky pits. When Joe was a baby she would ask to hold him and I would get him back with a head reeking of BO. I never had the heart to refuse her, poor Joe.
Thank you for the invitation.
Because I have been dying to write about the crotch grabber I work with. Someone seriously needs to do an intervention with this guy because you cannot be in his presence for longer than five minutes without witnessing a full on unabashed crotch grab (his own, mind you). I'm sure he has no idea he does it or how bad it looks. But the problem is he's my new "superior" and it's so hard to take him seriously when he looks like a monkey.
There, I feel so much better now!
P.S. Just how many urine-born diseases are there we should be worried about out there???
P.P.S. I long for the day when the worst thing we have to worry about is overly well-mannered children roaming the earth...
"Ethel, is that you Ethel?" Bwahaha!
Sorry. Lyrical digression but you started it so, yeah.
Seeing as I am the embodiment of Mr. Mellow - whatever that means - not many things irk me. Also I know how to fly by flapping my arms, I have seventeen different multi-million dollar Swiss bank accounts, and several other delusional fantasies I can't recall just this moment. So I'll name a couple things I hate instead, just to lengthen the comment (and as a bonus, put it marginally on topic).
Behind the wheel: people who pass me, move into my lane... and slow down.
Behind the ears: hearing the non-word "irregardless" used in any context except deliberate attempts to goad me. Not that anyone does that, mind you. But it could happen.
I'll leave you with a word, also something you started:
cootylicious.
jams- HUNGRY ARSE wins the "LOL AWARD" of the day!!!! My Mom once saw the butcher at Kroger's in the women's restroom do a number two (well, she didn't actually SEE her, but she knew what the lady was up to), and then nonchalantly adjust her apron that she had been wearing while pooping, turn and walk out the door without washing her hands. My Mom threw the sh** fit to end all sh** fits with the management! Post often, jams my friend, while my bill for purging you and helping your mental health just keeps growing.
on the run- One day during the forced gym class square dance unit, he'll be the stinky headed Joe doing the Cotton-Eyed Joe! Yeah, blowing your nose at the table is NASTY! What's even worse is people who use linen napkins at a formal place to do it. Just the knowledge that you're wiping your mouth on someone's snot rag makes me gag.
anonymous- Oh, I know who you are! :O That crotch grabbing boss has the crotch grabbing Mafia out after you, tracking your every blog move doesn't he? That's what crotch grabbers do, you know, they move their fingers out of their privates just long enough to point at people and order them around. I wanna know, do you shake his hand? Do you use the same pen that he's touched? Do you secretly wonder if he's an authroized crab dealer, breeding them on his very person?
Be afraid, be very afraid of a stranger's pee and the potential to kill you. I even read once that you can get pregnant from a dirty toilet seat! *sigh* Just where is all that sex ed. money for teens really going that they still believe that?
I hate it when people touch computer screens when they are trying to point something out. It came up last night in a class I'm taking, where the teacher put his greasy finger right on my new glossy laptop screen. It drives me nuts. NUTS.
Ah now here is another thing that really gets my goat.. management bulls**t.. If I ever get told to actualuse a synergy I will go bureaucrat on them (that's like going postal but in triplicate!)
oh my Omar - I really hate that too. I actually told my boss off for it once. I don't understand the need to actually touch the screen.
In the spirit of one-upsmanship, I will counter your hatred of being caught in a moment of underpants excavation with my own hatred for the thong wedgie. It's bad enough that my pantylinephobia causes me to wear the damn things, but worse that, since they are already tightly nestled betwixt the cheeks, they often feel the need jam themselves into even more delicate crevices the likes of which I would never touch in public, much less fish about in for a wayward strip of cotton. Unholy garments, thongs.
I hears ya bum wipin frog lady. I had this really huge list of things I hated. It was so big that I started to hate my list of hate.
Then one day it became clear to me. I was inspired after a long bathroom session after eating at McDonald's on 'Big Mac Monday' (after eatin a half a dozen of those things). I decided to dump the hate list.
Instead, I decided to have a "like list" instead. If its not on the list, I hate it.
Then a paradox occurred: I didn't like my white list either. How does one maintain a list of things they like on something they don't? Upon realization of this, I felt the universe hiccup and my new list imploded on itself.
I don't have lists anymore... except for one with the names of the daddies of my children.
I guess I do have a hate list after all.
So great is my phobia of public potties that I am in the Guiness Book of World Records for bladder control.
And since my husband does not allow me to give people the finger, I have started to stick out my tongue. Except for at men in trucks. They will stalk you for it.
But the absolute, very most, WORST THING OF ALL?
I'm sorry. It's too much. I won't burden you with the knowledge I bear.
I had read Part One, that just shows how comitted I am.
I avoid public bathrooms, but when there is no way to avoid them, I'll not touch anyhting, no part of my skin may contact any surface of the so called 'rest room'.
Ditto on people figering my computer screen...grrr.
I hate people driving with dogs on their lap, I once saw this lady driving, dog on her lap, on her cell phone AND smoking.
But the worst (yep, definAtely) not washing your hands after using the nefarious public restroom...gross.
RAJ- No, "cootylicious" is Paris Hilton. My word is "cootyphobic." Irregardless of that error though, I agree with you about people who lack road manners. The best is people who pass you in a neighborhood, only to turn right in front of you into their driveways making you slam on your brakes.
MY FIRST EVER BLOG GOD AWARD!!!!!
SQQQUUUUUEEEEEEEE!
Ooops, I forgot I wasn't wearing my Depends. No exciting moment should be had without them. I shall like to take this moment to thank you, the fine blogging public for making this award possible. I will cherish it forever and for always.
Omar- Given your love and affection for your new iMAC, I'm surprised that the offender didn't draw back a bloody knub. Such amazing restraint.....
THEO- You're a braver soul than I for the only thongs that grace my body are on my feet, purchased at Old Navy for $2.00. My daughters and I have a secret hand symbol for the dreaded "camel toe" though.
Maria!!!- You's my favorite Baby Momma commenter.
salgal- Ever watch the Karate Kid? My husband refuses to let his delicate nalgas touch a public toilet seat and so he implements "The Crane" position like Daniel-san and hovers over the potty. The man is a genius.
NCS-Now you know why the Japanese refuse to shake hands, it's because they know where they've been and they haven't been sanitized for their protection. NCS, you should read my entry about the real inspiration behind creating Purell hand sanitizers. A COOTYPHOBIC'S WORST NIGHTMARE
The mustache. The big toothpaste-dribble-catching boobs. The impatience with people who pick their butts.
Are you my long-lost twin?
I used to not do my business in public toilets. Something about the aural attributes of water splashing, wait, make that, Sploshing, when something hits the surface. The ploop sound it makes is funny though.
But I don't care already. I mean, everyone does it, right? Right?
And I smack my lips whenever I go through a buffet line. Makes me look like a spectacled lizard with cargo pants.
Can I join in? I hate people who break the heads off broccoli at the grocery store. I just wrote about this last week.
http://mentaltesserae.blogspot.com/2006/09/bubble-dwellers.html
Oh, and I also hate it when people try to get you to read their blogs when you don't even know them. Sorry. I'm a long time lurker, does that make up for it?
I said Sploshing! Darn it be to Blogger's inept HTML formatting!
I thought of you when I went to the movies to see 'Open Season' with the family. I went into the bathroom and dutifully wiped the seat before I sat, but still found myself "marinating in someone elses nasty pee".
Don't say I never think of you.
Lip Smackers- It is soooooo gross to hear someone eating! Usually if you can hear it you don't want to see it either
Yes millie, I am. The pretty twin to your evil twin, that is.
christo wears cargo pants! Like a Malaysian Indiana Jones. Righteous! It's not SPLOSH, christo, it's SPLOOSH! That's the sound of the brown submarine hitting the surface and splashing your behind with a delightfully refreshing eau de toilet spray.
HI JULIE! Welcome to our little chanting cult of personality! I've never noticed the broccoli thing because I'm usually too busy watching people molest the canteloupes and sniff their melon posterior.
christo again, do you ever feel awkward in a quiet public bathroom? I do, and sometimes I'll start fake coughing just to break the silence so I can pee.
payne- You and I have probably built up pee resistance from being the proud mothers of two sons.
rush momma- Bonne Belle is one of my sponsors and they will be horrified to see you denigrating their superb Lip Smackers products. Lip Smackers: For all your crusty lipped needs!
*Available at a finer retail outlet near you*
Dear Elastic Lady,
I am in a most thoughtful mood this week and have been thinking about random but specific stories of people that I like a whole lot. Would you share about your kids being born? You are a birthing warrior that I admire and fear...you know, if you have nothing else to write? I want everyone to know what a tough cookie you are...not that they don't already know, but..you know.
Ok, I was at a store buying some shirts when I noticed one my pet peeves. It is when a person who is old enough to know better wears clothing that is obviously not the right cut, length, etc., for certain types of relgious under-apparel. This lady bent over to pick up something, and I saw her whole backside-or at least 4 inches down her crack (what is a more genteel term for that body part?). Or when women come to church in skirts that are fine if you sit legs uncrossed, but the second they cross, you get a shot practically up to their uh-huh (as my Nana refers to it). I just really don't like being able to identify a person's religious affiliation because I'm seeing their unders.
I'm with Emma--I've asked you more than once to tell these heroic stories!
People who drive while talking on a cell phone!!!!!!!!! Everytime I see someone driving like a drunken 90 year old grandma- they are on the phone. PULL OVER TO TALK SO YOU DON'T KILL SOMEONE!
emma jo-Hmmmm, Melissa: Birthing Warrior. I rather like the sound of that. I wonder if I would beat Xena in a death match? I'm not sure if the blogging masses are ready for 6 birth stories, it would take a whole week. I have touched on it lightly though, here and here.
elizabeth- We call it a hoo-hoo. My new favorite expression though in relation to that part of the female anatomy? Taco. Linsey Lohan has been exposing herself all over twon because she goes commando and when I read that she showed her taco, I about died laughing. I'm a sinner. I saw an obese woman at Wal-Mart yesterday wearing a tube top dress and losing the battle to keep it over her breasts. She was also heavily tattooed. Such charming people you meet at that store.
rush momma- I KNOW!!! A lady flipped me off last week when she cut ME off in traffic and nearly collided with ME because she was on HER cell phone and I honked at her sorry butt. *must keep repeating to self:"We are all God's children. Love one another as God would love you, even inconsiderate drivers"* Some days are harder than others.
How about kids that, despite being told mommy has only been asleep for 3 MacGyver episodes since you woke up, insist on running, screaming, shouting and door-slamming all over the teeny tiny apartment while daddy is at ward mission leader meeting?
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