There Are a Lot of Things That Irritate Me.

Hey blog! It's been a while! That's mostly because I've been busy working, spending the weekend eating Mom's amazing shish kebabs and pot roast and tubing at Red Lake Falls with ze family, not to mention spending time with the adorable cats at the Humane Society. I did some stuff and saw a few things, and some of them angered me. Which inspired me to make a list. An epic one. About things that piss me off.


The Epic List of Things I Can't Stand.

• Asshole drivers. Say you're driving in town. It's a busy street so there's two lanes for each direction of traffic. For the seven or so blocks before the stoplight there are a bunch of signs that say "MERGE RIGHT" and "LEFT LANE ENDS" and things of that nature. Then, just after the stoplight, there are cones that force you out of the left lane and do just like the signs say, merge into the right lane because there's construction or some shit going on in that lane so you can't be up in there, fucking up their fresh cement and whatnot. All the smart, polite, normal people who are tired from just getting off work merge into the right lane, as warned by the sign. But there's always that one motherfucker. That ONE asshole who sees all of those and thinks "Holy crap. There's like a million people in the right lane, I don't want to wait and possibly miss the light, and my life is so important that these small peons of the working world should simply let me budge in front of them to shave off five seconds from my trip home." So anyway, this one asshole pulls up to the front of the left lane. Everyone in the right lane looks to him and mentally says to him, "Are you fucking kidding me?" The light turns green and, lo and behold, the asshole in the left lane pounds his gas pedal like he's in the Daytona 500 and makes a swift merge into the right lane, narrowly missing the traffic cones and nearly massacring the front runner in the right lane. That's why I take extreme pride in being that front runner of the right lane, holding a now personal vendetta against said asshole, and fully-intentionally stay even with him until he nearly crashes into the merge cones, regardless of how fast he speeds to get ahead of me. One time one of them even honked at me in anger because I wouldn't let him in front of me. I nearly stopped my car and threw my coffee into his open window. But I have too much respect for coffee to do that.
• Obnoxious vehicles. For instance. Hicked-out Dodges, Fords, or Chevy's (which you will be made known of by the bold, white-lettered decal on the rear window stating the brand, which they installed to proudly show their patronage) pickup with gigantic, unnecessary grille guards as if they hit deer on a daily basis and need to protect their grilles from the constant barrage of animal carcasses, an obnoxiously loud "rev" to their engines to attract hick-, bar-, tramp stamp-loving skanks, and tires that are roughly the same height as the pickup's body itself. Ricer cars (commonly a Mazda or Toyota and released at some point during the early nineties with a spoiler on the back and those blinding bright yellow or neon blue headlights (that are illegal by the way, dickbags). Or mid-life crisis, "Stop staring at my microscopic penis and look at this amazing car I drive" cars that cost fifteen times my annual salary and had to be imported from a country they've never been to before but got it from them to feel "more worldly."
• People who don't do any research about a restaurant before going to it. Think of a restaurant you're familiar with. Subway, McDonald's, Olive Garden... many come to mind. And all of them have different styles. McDonald's is simple, it's a matter of just reading the menu and making a few choices. Olive Garden is also simple, as it's a normal restaurant, you wait to be seated, order your drinks, then your food, and you eat. But let's think for a second. You don't walk into McDonald's and ask for a Whopper. Because that's from fucking Burger King. And you're at a McDonald's. So leave and go to a fucking Burger King. Some of you are aware of a nice place called Quizno's. And I'm sure a good percentage of you in your mind stated this exact line "Oh that's basically a Subway." But stop right there you ignorant bitch, no. It's NOT like a Subway. Because it's a fucking Quizno's. They're not owned by the same company, they don't have the same menu, and the only thing they do have in common is that they serve sandwiches. Hurray. The one similarity. To show you the differences, for any of you who plan to have a first-time visit to a Quizno's any time soon, here's what goes down. At a Subway, you order what kind of bread you want and what size you want. They have many options, and their sizes are a "6 inch" or a "footlong" sandwich. Then you choose what sub you'd like, this is the only thing set in stone on your sandwich; the meats. Then you pick cheese, then vegetables, then sauce. Voila. There's your sandwich. Now, time for Quizno's. Time to pick your bread and size again. This time, though, there are different breads. Gasp. No, Quizno's does not have a fucking "Honey Oat" bread, so don't fucking ask. Quizno's doesn't have a "6 inch" or a "footlong," it has a small (5"), regular (8"), or large (11"). Now, here's where people start losing common sense. In front of you on this thing that lists what kind of sandwiches they have, it's called a "menu" (I know, it's a lot of information to take in, but bare with me), you choose which one will most likely suit your taste buds. Each sandwich has predesignated cheeses, sauces, and vegetables. When you go into a McDonald's you don't say "Yeah I'd like to order a burger with tomatoes, lettuce, onion, bacon..." etc, you order a Big Mac or some shit and just ask them to take off the stuff you don't like. That's how a Quizno's works. For instance, the Mesquite Chicken comes with ranch dressing, lettuce, tomatoes, onions, cheddar cheese, chicken, and bacon. Don't like onions? Ask them not to put the onions on. And they're so used to people coming in and not knowing what the fuck they're doing, that the employees have even started verifying that you're cool with the listed ingredients by asking "Lettuce, tomatoes, and onions okay on it?" Because the exact opposite of the highlight of their day is putting onions on something and immediately getting yelled at by someone complaining "I DON'T WANT ANY ONIONS ON MY SANDWICH." It takes every fiber of their being, I'm sure, not to say "WELL THEN WHY DON'T YOU READ WHAT COMES ON THE FUCKING SANDWICH YOU ORDERED AND TELL US NOT TO PUT ONIONS ON THE SANDWICH THAT ONIONS COME ON, BITCH." And a second note, being as Quizno's is not a Subway, you do not walk in and say "Um.. yeah.. I want a six inch on wheat with just like.. turkey and American cheese.. and like ranch or something." First of all, they don't have American cheese, you fuck. Second of all, no. You do that at Subway. But you're at a fucking Quizno's. And when they ask you "Lettuce, tomatoes, and onions okay on it?" that is not an open invitation to look over the glass sneezeguard and start investigating all of the vegetables they have. THOSE ARE NOT YOUR OPTIONS. YOUR OPTIONS ARE LETTUCE, TOMATOES, AND ONIONS.* ... *-not all sandwiches only come with those three vegetables. The Italian, for instance, also comes with black olives, and the Chicken Carbonara only has mushrooms on it. -rainbow- :D
• Closed-mindedness. If they're not making you do something, it's not your damn problem.
• The Media. QUIT FILLING MY HEAD WITH LIES.
• Cheap raspberry flavoring. "Raspberry tea" shouldn't taste like bear piss.
• When I'm at a theater and the ticket seller says "Enjoy the movie." and I reply "You too." You can't really recover from that one.
• People who put whorish pictures on their Facebook profile. Especially those who have their parents in their friends list.
• Feeling guilty for not giving money to homeless people. 
• Cars with dozens of bumper stickers on them. We get it. You have lots of opinions. I can't imagine mentioning the word "abortion" near you, for fear of being barraged with "scientific information" and statistics made up only to serve whichever political party you belong to.
• People who are over weight because they eat too much and complain that they're over weight, but do nothing about it. Seriously. All the money you're putting into food could be used for therapy, because there must be a reason why you're eating too much.
• When I get food in my hair and don't realize it until much later. Why is there crusty cheese in my  hair? Oh. Right. I had nachos about two hours ago.
• Mascara. Yeah, I wear it. Begrudgingly. I always manage to stab myself in the eyeball with it and ruin all my hard work I did on my eyeliner and eyeshadow, if I decide to wear them that day. Not to mention the burning flesh rampage that goes on afterward because I have to scrub all my damn makeup off and start over. That's why I usually go with foundation and glasses. I call it the "wannabe Daria" look.
• People who disagree with Piers Morgan on America's Got Talent. He's cold. But he tells the truth. If there was any man in the world who I would trust for an honest opinion, he's it. "Does my hair look bad today, Piers?" "You look bloody awful. Go take a shower." "Thank you Piers." That's how my mornings would go. And I would openly welcome that.
• Fashion. Wearing peacock feathers on your head isn't edgy and cute. It's stupid. Take those damn feathers off, you're going to get attacked by a muster of horny peahens.
• Hunting. May the gods strike me down for saying that I don't like hunting when I live in rural North Dakota, but I don't. It's not fun. It's murdering an animal. Yes, deer get over populated. But you do not need to paint your pickup in camouflage colors to fool it into thinking you're not stalking it. It's not that hard to trick one. They just eat corn and make babies and be adorable jumping around in trees like little fairy animals.
• When I talk about a show I like and out of nowhere a person says something along the lines of "Ugh, I hate that show. It's so stupid." K, that's your opinion, and since you don't like it, go bother someone else for a while as my friends and I discuss it anyway, next time don't be so fucking negative. What's your favorite show? WELL I'M GOING TO CUT YOU OFF IN THE MIDDLE OF YOU SAYING IT AND TELL YOU IT'S DUMB. Because I'm an adult. And that's how an adult would handle it.
• Parents who lie to their children. Santa Claus is not real. I've known that since I was old enough to understand the concept of Santa Claus. The Tooth Fairy is not real. But don't tell them that, otherwise they'll expect you to give them the money directly and that puts even more strain on your tight budget when your child asks you for an extra quarter for this tooth because he really wants that sticky hand over in the two-quarter machine.
• People who show me pictures of their children and expect me to reply with anything other than "Meh." I don't like children. They're annoying. They're drool-, tear-, poop-producing factories that won't appreciate anything you do for them until years later on two occasions: When they graduate college and realize all the time and effort you put in to raising them, and when you die.
• There are many more, but I'm tired. And I hate being tired. So it's time to go cure that.