I’ve been trying to use the New Year as an opportunity to focus on the positive over the negative, but every once in a while, I feel compelled to complain about my pet peeves, even irrational ones. I find myself wanting to sock a loud sneezing subway passenger in the stomach for scaring the entire train with his unnecessary eruption or tell my sobbing friends that there are bigger problems in the world than their relationship difficulties, but these are only two of my secret hatreds. Nobody is perfect, so here is my list of things that I’m going to the underworld for loathing:
“Finding Nemo.” We get it, fish are cute, but I assure you there was little more to this film than visuals (and of course a sweet father-son story line). The majority of the movie is frankly annoying, especially whenever Dory swims onscreen.
Loud sneezes. One of these days, I’m going to get a heart attack thanks to the guy who makes a production of this bodily act.
When girls ask me to accompany them to the bathroom at parties. This isn’t high school. You don’t need a urination buddy, nor should you feel invalidated for having to stroll to the ladies room solo.
Serving as a taxi driver’s GPS. When riding in cabs, I give the drivers as much information as possible, but sometimes all I have are the cross streets and area of the city. Nevertheless, the cabbie gripes that this isn’t helpful enough, and I’m left feeling very vulnerable with a frustrated, hostile dude behind the wheel. I don’t mind helping to solve the problem, but believe this could be problematic for tourists who obviously have no idea how to guide their drivers through the city.
When doctors ask for the last day of my most recent menstrual cycle. I get this at every doctor no matter the nature of the appointment. I could be going in for an eye exam and still be probed on my lady business. I recognize that they need to know this because everything is interconnected, but most of the time, I don’t even know what day it is, much less the exact date of my last period. I usually just get away with picking a random day off the top of my head, and guess what? I’ve never dropped dead as a result of providing false information in this particular scenario.
Pinterest. My thoughts on the matter are already out there.
Being alerted to numerous nervous breakdowns in a day. Last year, I had five people call me in one day about their latest personal crises. I’m happy to help, but when this becomes a pattern, I have no time to take care of my own issues or responsibilities.
When sales representatives destroy the shopping experience. I love when retail workers ask if I need help finding stuff, but dislike when they overdo it with communication. Two weeks ago, my buddy Kyana and I went shopping at BCBG. The male sales rep followed us around the entire time, waited outside our dressing rooms, and wouldn’t leave us alone. I was really pleased to have his assistance, but we both agreed it would have been nice to actually enjoy the outing as friends rather than put on a show for this random person whose sole motive was to zap hundreds of dollars from our bank accounts.
Unnecessary work meetings. MoneyWatch put it best with the statement, “Have you ever sat [through] a pointless meeting and calculated just how much money was being wasted as a dozen well-paid professionals zoned out around a deathly boring conference table?” Yes.
People who are always in relationships. I’ll amend that slightly: folks who would rather remain in dying relationships than be alone.
Being asked to purchase a Macy’s, Barnes and Noble, or Victoria’s Secret card. I already have a credit card, thank you very much, and I’m not about to kill my credit score by signing up for yet another method of payment.
Facebook chat. Mainly because it enables random people on my friends list to start awkward conversations with me. Guys, take note: the best way to sweep a girl off her feet definitely isn’t to inquire via Facebook chat about her preferred sex positions.
Small talk at the doctor. A physician recently noticed I was reading “We Need to Talk About Kevin” and asked what it was about. “Well, it follows a mother in the aftermath of her sociopathic teenage son going on a killing spree at his high school,” I said. Quite a buzzkill, huh? Small talk paints an inaccurate portrait of what a person is actually like (I read the book because of its high story telling and writing quality, not because of its content) and takes away from the real purpose of a doctor’s visit: to check up on one’s health. It can be a good conversation starter, but not when you’re leafing through “We Need to Talk About Kevin.”
That’s enough ranting for now. My next post will center on the little things that brighten my day, and I assure you that will be a much cheerier entry 🙂