5 Things That Must Go… likely to be added upon sporadically when I’m feeling particularly perturbed.
- People my own age calling groups of people my age ‘kids.’ "Hey kids!" Um… we’re not kids… and certainly not your kids… and if WE’RE kids you’re a kid because we’re the same age and you just shouldn’t really refer to people your same age as kids. Ever. The End.
- Overt tardiness (excuse me while I adjust my spectacles). I really hate it when people are late… like ostensibly late. 5-10 minutes? Fine. But if you’ve hit the 20 minute late-mark with no indication as to your lateness (‘Hey! Sorry! I’m gonna be about 15 minutes late!’), then I hate you. It’s only a minute (or 10, or 20, or whenever the HELL you decide to SHOW UP!) of hating, but the hate is genuine and I’d ask you, prithee, to please be here when you say you’ll be here… cause I most certainly was ready when you SAID you'd come. I think this is a family trait – we’re all rather punctual and have a low-tolerance for inconsiderate “planet-me” timetable types. Very. Low. Miniscule. It's been a rough transition accepting 'Mormon standard time' in my life. Very rough. JUST!! Be on time... please.
- People asking you questions about a complicated show (cough LOST) like, “Wait… so who’s that guy? How did she die? And… wait, I thought Sawyer and Kate were together? HAR HAR HAR. I’ve not watched this in awhile! Where’s Ben?”, WHILE you are WATCHING said complicated and rather intense show. Um, clearly, this isn’t the time. You want an explanation? Please quietly write your questions down on a piece of paper (provided) and I will happily answer your questions when said ‘complicated intense show’ (cough LOST), is over. Wow.
- Mouth Breathers – you know what I mean. Those who consistently breathe out of their mouth. I just don’t think it does anything for their ‘intelligence quotient’ looking like a slack-jawed monkey. Then enters the issue of mouth-breathers with bad breath. Ohhhhh maaaaaaan. No good. MUST go.
- People who wander into a theater late and stand directly in front of the screen, willing their eyes to adjust to the darkness so they can find their buddy who’s saving a seat for them. No no, don’t worry, none of us made it here on time (ON..... TIME....) to find our seats and thus BE SEATED when the show starts and totally empathize that you absolutely MUST stand in front of the entire theater squinty eyed and harassed looking until you find your chum who, happy day, happens to be saving your seat in the MIDDLE of MY row. Let the climbing begin... ‘excuse me… sorry… excuse me… sorry.’ Oy.