In my curmudgeony middle-aged years, I have come to realize that there are a few things that just irrationally set me off. So, for fun, I thought I would share them here. Enjoy. (There will be salty language). Halloween might also be mentioned. Yeah yeah. Get off my lawn.
The Quadratic Equation. Back in High School, I can’t begin to count up the number of times they made us suffer through this horseshit. Today, I mistakenly clicked on a link on Facebook which took me here. I have since then blocked and reported the offender to the authorities for hate speech. Instant anger washed over me. Flames. Flames on the side of my face…
Other than the hours of suffering in school to learn this, I’ve never, ever, ever-ever used it. People do? Good for them. It got us to the moon? Wow. I’ll let you know what I think of that from my moonbase apartment. Oh, that’s right! We just got to the moon, but never did a goddamned thing after that! If you work in math or engineering, I’m sure you can defend the importance of this for the rest of our natural lives. But inflicting the rest of us with this damage should be forbidden by the Geneva Convention.
People who honk instead of knocking on the door. The other day while visiting my parents, some jackass had pulled up to the house across the street and instead of getting out of his running car to knock on the door to let his pal know he had arrived, he proceeded to honk intermittently for the next ten minutes until his friend presented himself. He announced loud enough for the whole neighborhood to hear that he was indisposed in the bathroom.
I used to tell my daughter that if she ever had a date pull up and start honking for her to come outside, it would be in his best interests to continue driving. Move to another state. Change his name. And start a whole other life. Nobody wants to hear your stupid honking! If you can’t be arsed to get out of your vehicle, you should really just figure out a way to park your car on top of yourself in a closed garage. With the motor running. You stupid fuck.
People training for a Triathlon. Great. You can run, ride a bike, and swim! Amazing. Slow clap. You’ve been training for how long? Huh. You know, the rest of us actually have things to do with our lives. Like, adult responsibilities. This is the most blatant display of leisure time and flaunting having almost no responsibilities that I can think of. It always draws attention to how in-shape a middle-aged vegan is and why they are almost always superior to you in every way.
This is the same asshole who will show you pics on their phone of their complete knee reconstruction in a couple years. And they might shed a single tear when lamenting that time they ran a triathlon and how they wish they could do it all over again. With their $6000 bicycle they bought for the race, insulated speed swim suit, and all that running which wore out their stupid chicken legs because people in their mid-forties shouldn’t be running races like they are children.
Two trucks passing each other on the interstate. This is also known as a pissing contest. It’s what happens when two drivers of rival companies block up two or sometimes three lanes of traffic because one is going 55 mph and the other one is going 57 mph and that other guy is slowing him down! On a stretch of road with a speed limit of 75 mph. The reason for this is for insurance reasons, both drivers work for a company that has put governors on their rigs, which prevent them from driving too fast. Slower speed means fewer accidents. And lower insurance rates on liability claims.
For some reason these two drivers in their nerfed-out trucks can’t just resign themselves to the fact that they both suck and are causing traffic to pile up at an insane rate behind them to get that precious cargo of potato chips to the next Walmart on time like it’s Jerry Reed running that police blockade to the state of Georgia with a trailer full of crisp, delicious, and refreshing Coors beer. Meanwhile the 47 people I passed over the last few miles doing 90 are now inching up on my ass in my rearview mirror. I didn’t want to see them then. I don’t want to see them now. MOVE OVER.
Stores without grocery bags. I get that the less plastic we use, the healthier the planet will be. Which is why you can’t buy a half gallon of milk in a cardboard container anymore. Which is why all that plastic is being used to individually wrap each piece of Halloween candy, and why when you go to the deli counter, they first wrap your meat in plastic and then butcher paper before giving it to you. But I get that hard look when I don’t bring my canvas grocery bag with me, or get irritated that I have to pay another forty cents to purchase a paper bag to carry my shit out to the car.
I’ve just paid for something that will break down if it gets damp, but it’s like they suspect I shot Bambi’s mom or something and my purchase of a paper bag has bulldozed another thousand acres of Amazon rain forest. That $.40 bag had better last as long as a Trader Joe’s bag (which they give out for free!), but I’m not going to hold my breath. After all those disposable face masks everyone has to grab at the door, which they just throw on the ground of the parking lot, make it hard enough to breathe as it is. It’s the shopping equivalent of getting a toothbrush or a box of raisins for trick-or-treating.