Thanks a Lot
Here are some things I really don't appreciate. At all.
1. The Air Conditioned Brush-Off
This happened to me recently, and I admit that given the hot weather (as in, oppressively oppressively hot) that's been around, this is sort of getting a biased top-billing, but the truth is, I don't really care.
For the past, what, two weeks, it's been about a billion degrees in my room. It's too hot to move, or think, or sleep. I have about three tantrums a day about it, which only makes me hotter. I wake up in the middle of the night and get so angry that my only options at the moment are no air circulation (which feels like suffocation) or hot air blowing directly on my face (which feels like hot air blowing directly on my face) that I can't get back to sleep. I finally cool down between six and seven a.m., for some reason, and then an hour later, I'm back up, ready to die. It's horrible.
Anyway, I was complaining about this to my friend, whose response was the following:
"You know, I don't want to hear this. You're like my friend, who always complains about this thing that she can do something about..."
I didn't even wait to hear what it was that her friend always complained about. I cut her right off, because I didn't give a shiiit. I could picture her, sitting there in her air conditioned room, telling me that I shouldn't complain because I can change my situation. Nobody was in my room at the moment, but I guarantee that my face was a mix of shock (that one eyebrow, dangerously arched), fury (eyes seriously bugged out), and summer heat (glistening red. And really, glistening is a euphemism).
Then came my father's response to my response that "I want to die" in my room, when he asked about how my life was going:
"Don't you have a fan?"
Very nice. Really sympathetic. What kills me about both responses is obvious: these people don't have to deal with the heat in the same way that every other person living in my building has to. They have air-conditioning when they get up, after they get out of the shower. They have air conditioning in their cars, on their way to work, and they have air conditioning at work and while they eat dinner at home and watch TV and sleep. They don't get up and immediately begin to feel disgusting after they shower (seriously, I feel like sweating just looking at my clothes, two seconds after a freezing cold shower), they don't walk to work (apparently some people don't know, but outside isn't air conditioned!) and they don't come home and lie on their bed, seriously wishing for a cool breeze or a fast death, whichever comes first.
Now I don't begrudge anybody their air conditioning. God knows I love it and believe it to be one of the greatest inventions, ever, period, end of debate. All I'm asking for is a little compassion here. (And no more of this "Well, we lived for a while without air conditioning, so it can't be that bad." That's like saying to someone who's in need of medical treatment but can't afford it, "Well, back in the olden days, we used to have you lie on a couch with a cool compress and have the village doctor come pray for you." Verrry comforting.)
2. The "Awesome Blossom"/Tower of Onion Petals
I think this is one of the cruelest restaurant practices ever. Everyone - EVERYONE - knows how horrible onion rings are for you. Seriously, it's like one of the universal human truths that you're reaaaaallly splurging if you're chowing down on the onion straws. So here's an idea: let's make it that to eat them, you have to order a gigantic portion of them (the "blossom") or you have to order them arranged in some sort of fashion that screams, "Hello! I am a larder about to eat a bajillion calories!" This is horrible, and should be made illegal, if you ask me.
And it's not just me who takes notice of these things. When I was out at lunch with my family and some friends, someone mentioned that she had seen some people we knew at this restaurant, Red Robin. "Yeah," she said, "they were splitting that giant onion ring thing." Now, if they had each been having appetizer salads, do you think we would have heard about that? Of course not. Nobody cares about anyone being healthy, but if someone's driving the junkfood train, everyone takes notice.
I still wasn't sold on this myself until I went to Red Robin to check it out. My mom, sister and I went in for dinner, and as luck would have it, just as we're entering the place, someone's getting their tower of onion petals delivered to their table. Let me just tell you. This thing could be a freakin maypole. All they need are some onion straws to be ribbons, and you could have people dancing around it, for godsake. Totally attention-grabbing. And then they deliver it, and my heart drops, because it's to a table with some portly diners.
Now, before anyone freaks out, I'm not saying that these people shouldn't order what they want. I'm saying the opposite, actually. I'm saying that they don't deck out a tower of lettuce, so they shouldn't have any pomp and circumstance for the onion rings, either. There's no need to give a shout-out to the entire restaurant that someone's about to quadruple their risk for a heart attack. Not necessary. Man, just thinking about the whole scenario makes me depressed.
It also reminds me about how when people at Coldstone get the large size ice creams, they practically put on a fireworks display when they hand it over. Just about kills me, every time.
3. The Picture-Taking Paparazzi (supposedly my friends)
I swear, sometimes digital cameras are the bane of my existence. Almost every freak I know who owns one feels the need to document every single event with their camera. Of course, they make sure to review each pic to make sure that THEY look nice, but god help you if you ask to see one of them. You hear about how it's a whole ordeal to go back and show you the pictures, but they have no problems making everyone sit around and smile again and again and again so they can get the perfect shot. Then, these things show up on websites and photo sites, with these stupid captions that are like, "this is so and so reaaallly up close" or "here are my ten million shots of an event that nobody cares about but me." With a disposable camera, or even a regular old-fashioned camera, this crap doesn't happen. First, you only have so many pictures, so people feel like they shouldn't just take pictures of garbage (or of friends eating, blowing their nose, or sitting around loooking unattractive). More importantly, it's equal opportunity. Nobody knows how the picture came out, so everyone has the same chance of looking like complete crap. It's the only fair way to go.
4. The Away Message Love Declaration
Oh, my god. If I could make one rule in life, it might be to ban any romantic declarations on instant messenger. Seriously. If I instant message someone, I hate when I get this in response: "At work... love you, babe." Am I babe? No. I don't care about this. What kills me is that these technologically-loving people can just as easily personally IM their objet d'affection, or they can text message them all the sweet nothings they want. I don't care. But why do I have to read every single day that you love babe? (Because they'll appear cool, and they want every single person to know that they have a babe and love her very much and miss her and hope she gets better real soon and is looking forward to when she can come visit and most of all wants everyone to know that she is the most perfect babe and girlfriend in the worlds - both cyberspace and reality.)
And again, for the record, not everyone on instant message can have the best boyfriend or girlfriend in the world. It's impossible. (This, by the way, reminds me of the funniest comment I've read in a long time. I was reading about these celebrities declaring their love for their fiancees, and Genius Nicole Richie said, "I love him because he's one of the few people who knows me better than anyone else." Uhh, how many people are there who know you better than anyone else? These people are total morons.)
Anyway, I'm just plain tired of this away message garbage. You know what, I'm going to petition instant messenger to make a puke smiley, just so I can have the proper response to these toolbags.
5. Birds... and fish.
I know a lot of people like birds, but I don't. I'm not sure if it's because my aunt's always been nuts about birds (among other things, really), but whatever it is, I don't care for them at all. I hate pigeons and seagulls, and I don't get what's fun about having a freakin parrot around to repeat everything you said. Half the time I don't want to remember what I said, let alone have it repeated back to me for eternity.
Actually, while I'm on it, I don't appreciate fish very much either. They just swim around and don't do much. Anybody who thinks they have a fish for a pet is kidding themselves. They have a bowl of water and this thing that swims around and will never talk to you or understand a thing you say to it. Completely useless, except you have to clean its fishbowl and buy it smelly fish food. Anybody that wants to do this is a weirdo.
6. The Pronunciation Morons
Okay, I get that my name can be tricky to pronounce. Fine. But once I correct someone, shouldn't it not be that difficult? Or, how about the nice people who say "Ehh, what's the difference?" Okay. How about instead of Matthew, I just call you Asshole? Really.
1. The Air Conditioned Brush-Off
This happened to me recently, and I admit that given the hot weather (as in, oppressively oppressively hot) that's been around, this is sort of getting a biased top-billing, but the truth is, I don't really care.
For the past, what, two weeks, it's been about a billion degrees in my room. It's too hot to move, or think, or sleep. I have about three tantrums a day about it, which only makes me hotter. I wake up in the middle of the night and get so angry that my only options at the moment are no air circulation (which feels like suffocation) or hot air blowing directly on my face (which feels like hot air blowing directly on my face) that I can't get back to sleep. I finally cool down between six and seven a.m., for some reason, and then an hour later, I'm back up, ready to die. It's horrible.
Anyway, I was complaining about this to my friend, whose response was the following:
"You know, I don't want to hear this. You're like my friend, who always complains about this thing that she can do something about..."
I didn't even wait to hear what it was that her friend always complained about. I cut her right off, because I didn't give a shiiit. I could picture her, sitting there in her air conditioned room, telling me that I shouldn't complain because I can change my situation. Nobody was in my room at the moment, but I guarantee that my face was a mix of shock (that one eyebrow, dangerously arched), fury (eyes seriously bugged out), and summer heat (glistening red. And really, glistening is a euphemism).
Then came my father's response to my response that "I want to die" in my room, when he asked about how my life was going:
"Don't you have a fan?"
Very nice. Really sympathetic. What kills me about both responses is obvious: these people don't have to deal with the heat in the same way that every other person living in my building has to. They have air-conditioning when they get up, after they get out of the shower. They have air conditioning in their cars, on their way to work, and they have air conditioning at work and while they eat dinner at home and watch TV and sleep. They don't get up and immediately begin to feel disgusting after they shower (seriously, I feel like sweating just looking at my clothes, two seconds after a freezing cold shower), they don't walk to work (apparently some people don't know, but outside isn't air conditioned!) and they don't come home and lie on their bed, seriously wishing for a cool breeze or a fast death, whichever comes first.
Now I don't begrudge anybody their air conditioning. God knows I love it and believe it to be one of the greatest inventions, ever, period, end of debate. All I'm asking for is a little compassion here. (And no more of this "Well, we lived for a while without air conditioning, so it can't be that bad." That's like saying to someone who's in need of medical treatment but can't afford it, "Well, back in the olden days, we used to have you lie on a couch with a cool compress and have the village doctor come pray for you." Verrry comforting.)
2. The "Awesome Blossom"/Tower of Onion Petals
I think this is one of the cruelest restaurant practices ever. Everyone - EVERYONE - knows how horrible onion rings are for you. Seriously, it's like one of the universal human truths that you're reaaaaallly splurging if you're chowing down on the onion straws. So here's an idea: let's make it that to eat them, you have to order a gigantic portion of them (the "blossom") or you have to order them arranged in some sort of fashion that screams, "Hello! I am a larder about to eat a bajillion calories!" This is horrible, and should be made illegal, if you ask me.
And it's not just me who takes notice of these things. When I was out at lunch with my family and some friends, someone mentioned that she had seen some people we knew at this restaurant, Red Robin. "Yeah," she said, "they were splitting that giant onion ring thing." Now, if they had each been having appetizer salads, do you think we would have heard about that? Of course not. Nobody cares about anyone being healthy, but if someone's driving the junkfood train, everyone takes notice.
I still wasn't sold on this myself until I went to Red Robin to check it out. My mom, sister and I went in for dinner, and as luck would have it, just as we're entering the place, someone's getting their tower of onion petals delivered to their table. Let me just tell you. This thing could be a freakin maypole. All they need are some onion straws to be ribbons, and you could have people dancing around it, for godsake. Totally attention-grabbing. And then they deliver it, and my heart drops, because it's to a table with some portly diners.
Now, before anyone freaks out, I'm not saying that these people shouldn't order what they want. I'm saying the opposite, actually. I'm saying that they don't deck out a tower of lettuce, so they shouldn't have any pomp and circumstance for the onion rings, either. There's no need to give a shout-out to the entire restaurant that someone's about to quadruple their risk for a heart attack. Not necessary. Man, just thinking about the whole scenario makes me depressed.
It also reminds me about how when people at Coldstone get the large size ice creams, they practically put on a fireworks display when they hand it over. Just about kills me, every time.
3. The Picture-Taking Paparazzi (supposedly my friends)
I swear, sometimes digital cameras are the bane of my existence. Almost every freak I know who owns one feels the need to document every single event with their camera. Of course, they make sure to review each pic to make sure that THEY look nice, but god help you if you ask to see one of them. You hear about how it's a whole ordeal to go back and show you the pictures, but they have no problems making everyone sit around and smile again and again and again so they can get the perfect shot. Then, these things show up on websites and photo sites, with these stupid captions that are like, "this is so and so reaaallly up close" or "here are my ten million shots of an event that nobody cares about but me." With a disposable camera, or even a regular old-fashioned camera, this crap doesn't happen. First, you only have so many pictures, so people feel like they shouldn't just take pictures of garbage (or of friends eating, blowing their nose, or sitting around loooking unattractive). More importantly, it's equal opportunity. Nobody knows how the picture came out, so everyone has the same chance of looking like complete crap. It's the only fair way to go.
4. The Away Message Love Declaration
Oh, my god. If I could make one rule in life, it might be to ban any romantic declarations on instant messenger. Seriously. If I instant message someone, I hate when I get this in response: "At work... love you, babe." Am I babe? No. I don't care about this. What kills me is that these technologically-loving people can just as easily personally IM their objet d'affection, or they can text message them all the sweet nothings they want. I don't care. But why do I have to read every single day that you love babe? (Because they'll appear cool, and they want every single person to know that they have a babe and love her very much and miss her and hope she gets better real soon and is looking forward to when she can come visit and most of all wants everyone to know that she is the most perfect babe and girlfriend in the worlds - both cyberspace and reality.)
And again, for the record, not everyone on instant message can have the best boyfriend or girlfriend in the world. It's impossible. (This, by the way, reminds me of the funniest comment I've read in a long time. I was reading about these celebrities declaring their love for their fiancees, and Genius Nicole Richie said, "I love him because he's one of the few people who knows me better than anyone else." Uhh, how many people are there who know you better than anyone else? These people are total morons.)
Anyway, I'm just plain tired of this away message garbage. You know what, I'm going to petition instant messenger to make a puke smiley, just so I can have the proper response to these toolbags.
5. Birds... and fish.
I know a lot of people like birds, but I don't. I'm not sure if it's because my aunt's always been nuts about birds (among other things, really), but whatever it is, I don't care for them at all. I hate pigeons and seagulls, and I don't get what's fun about having a freakin parrot around to repeat everything you said. Half the time I don't want to remember what I said, let alone have it repeated back to me for eternity.
Actually, while I'm on it, I don't appreciate fish very much either. They just swim around and don't do much. Anybody who thinks they have a fish for a pet is kidding themselves. They have a bowl of water and this thing that swims around and will never talk to you or understand a thing you say to it. Completely useless, except you have to clean its fishbowl and buy it smelly fish food. Anybody that wants to do this is a weirdo.
6. The Pronunciation Morons
Okay, I get that my name can be tricky to pronounce. Fine. But once I correct someone, shouldn't it not be that difficult? Or, how about the nice people who say "Ehh, what's the difference?" Okay. How about instead of Matthew, I just call you Asshole? Really.
<< Home