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Things that bug the shit out of me


September 01, 2007 - 11:58 p.m.


  • People who read all the cute trademarked names -- out loud -- on the menu at chain restaurants. "Oh, Moons Over My Hammy!
  • Old people who read -- out loud -- billboards as you pass them.
  • People who stop their cart dead in the middle of the busiest aisle in the store and look around like they're not sure where they are any more.
  • Left-turn signals. For five miles. In the left lane. On Interstate 70.
  • Newscasters who make it a point to tell you how many children were affected by some incident -- "Five people were killed in a failed bank robbery in Glen Ellyn this morning, and there were children in a nearby elementary school!" Well, yeah... there were mice there, too.
  • Anything about Paris Hilton, Princess Di, Lindsay Lohan, Brad Pitt, or Liz Taylor.
  • Sunday night local news. If they don't have real news, they invent it: "local firefighters turn out to raise money for a local playground... we'll have the story at 11."
  • People who pronounce the "t" in "often." I generally refused to date any woman who did this.
  • Ants.
  • Customer service people at large stores who, when you come up to the counter and ask them, "do you still have XXXX in stock?" go and look at the same fucking shelves you just checked very carefully. I mean, why don't you go in the BACK and check someplace I can't check, huh? Don't you think I already LOOKED?
  • People who care too much about "reality television." Real? What? Huh?
  • The disparity between hot-dog and hot-dog-bun makers. Six? Eight? Can't we all just get along?
  • Young girls on cell phones driving too fast in heavy traffic. Who are you talking to, anyway? And what are you telling them, "I just cut off some fat old guy?"
  • Derek Jeter.
  • Websites whose "contact us" webmail link is screwed up, and who list no direct email address to use instead. geraldines.com, I'm lookin' at you...
  • Anybody's beef jerky but my own.
  • People who think you can talk-therapy your way out of clinical depression. I'll believe that when you talk your way out of a broken leg.


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