I vacillate between being mildly cranky and wickedly bitchy, depending upon the week. I am also a raging cynic, to the point where I have officially begun to annoy myself. That said, I like (almost) everyone I meet until they give me reason not to. Even then, I’m usually very forgiving, mostly because I have a terrible memory. Also? I’m very lazy and grudges are very heavy and way too much of a burden for me to carry.
There are, however, some people that I simply cannot tolerate. I would apologize in advance to any of you who may fall into any of the following categories if I wasn’t so busy waiting for you to apologize to me.
Muscular Dystrophy Association
The cashier at the grocery store asked me if I wanted to donate a dollar (or five) to the Muscular Dystrophy Association just before he totaled my bill. What kind of ninja charity drive is that?? This isn’t the first time it’s happened, either. I’ve had it happen at a few different stores for a variety of charities. You know what? I’m a pretty generous person. I make automated monthly donations to my favorite charities. I also do some Christian-like stuff behind the scenes, not because I’m a good Christian (for someone must be sacrificed – either by death or by marriage – for me to darken the doorstep of a church,) but because I’m a good person who was raised to carry crippling guilt. It’s one of the many burdens most Italian-Catholic girls are forced to bear.
But I digress.
We both know the dollar isn’t going to kill me, but really?? I don’t like being put on the spot like that in front of the other shoppers, even if they are strangers. Also? What’s going on at the MDA?? That sweaty Jerry Lewis raised millions (billions?) of dollars introducing all those D-List celebrities over the past 175 years. Shouldn’t they have found a cure by now???
I don’t know why you pushers are allowed to deal your crack out in the open like that. Are you not aware that there’s a terrible obesity problem in this country?? Also, freckles and turned-up noses? That’s just not fair. Oh, and don’t think for a second that we didn’t notice you doubling the price and halving the number and size of the cookies. You should just call them crookies, thieves.
Oh, you’re on the traveling team? How nice! Good for you! Your parents must be sooo proud!
Go to hell.
My kid was probably tortured by your kind because he was more interested in computers and cloud formations than anything remotely sporty. You didn’t see him standing outside the grocery store accosting your mom for cash so he could buy the latest MacBook, did you? DID YOU??? Go home and tell your parents to fund their kids’ extra-curricular activities on their own. They’ll make up for the lost cash when you get the college scholarships that my kid didn’t get because they don’t dole those out for Dungeons & Dragons prowess.
Are you kidding me? How do I know you’re representing a legitimate charity? How much do you make each year standing at intersections guilting people with a PREVENT CHILD ABUSE label taped onto an old KFC bucket?? That goes for you, too, (allegedly) single-mother/homeless vet/unemployed person with a cardboard sign…and a cell phone. I’m tired of feeling awkward at the red lights because I refuse to feed your pill addiction. I’ve known people who had no discernible skills but managed to never be without a job. You know why? Because nothing was beneath them. Except begging for cash at an intersection. Get a job.
I hate you with the heat of 1,000 suns. There. I’ve said it.
I don’t give a shit if the state considers your little toy a ‘vehicle’; stay the hell off the back roads. What’s wrong with you?? Not only is there not a shoulder, there’s a freaking drop-off into a ditch (or a creek or a ravine.) Do you seriously not notice the line of 27 cars behind you traveling at 4 mph?? No, no…that’s ok, take your time, dear! They weren’t looking forward to seeing their families after a long day at work. They don’t have to pee. Their kids aren’t hungry or anything. They don’t have anywhere to be! It’s all about YOU getting to enjoy the pretty road! Never mind the 4,123 roads with shoulders, the dozens of county and state parks with bike paths, or – hey – even your own neighborhood, any of which would love nothing more than to host you and your fancy bicycle. No, you deserve to ride on the pretty back roads so you can show off the little dentist mirror you’ve strapped onto your helmet and your Team USPS knock-off uniform. Douche.
Green means GO, idiot. It’s one of the most horrendous intersections in the county and it has ticketing cameras. It allows about seven out of the 47 cars in line through before it turns red again. Your number one priority is to stare at the red light like a psychopath until it turns green, then hit the accelerator so that number isn’t cut down to four. Jesus.
Perfect Facebook Moms
Alright, this one’s a little tough, but here goes…shut the fuck up.
No, seriously. I love each and every one of you, but the constant chatter about the wonderful quality time you spend with your awesomely cute child(ren) is making me feel bad about myself. I don’t remember motherhood being a constant playdate with my kids – museums and parks and plays and parties and arts & crafts and whatnot. I remember being exhausted and feeling very under-appreciated. And screaming. I remember a lot of screaming. Mostly coming from me. Just once I’d like to see you post something like ‘OMG, I’da liked to slap the shit out of Johnny today. What a dick he is!’. Because, unless you’re heavily medicated, there’s no freaking way you don’t think that from time to time.
OK, so this week I’m may be leaning toward wickedly bitchy…