|
Post by Phalon on Jan 29, 2007 23:43:12 GMT -6
Time to unleash my pet peeves for a bit; they're feeling a little cooped up. Down boy!
Blame it on the snow.
Peep-hole drivers. I know I've mentioned this before, but it happens every year, and it never ceases to bother me. Those drivers who can not clear off the snow or ice from their vehicles but for a tiny three-inch peephole on the driver's side window from which they must scootch to the edge of their seats to see through.
And because the rest of the car is still covered in snow, this tiny peephole will soon be covered in the snow they failed to wipe off the hood as they hit speeds in excess of say 25 mph. White-out!!! Slow down to 5 mph. Now they can not see a damn thing. And neither can anyone traveling behind them because the peep-hole driver is now causing a white-out with all the snow blowing off their car and into the windshields of cars following.
This of course, leads to a whole string of cars traveling 5 mph, Peep-hole leading the pack.
I am bringing up the tail-end, trying to get somewhere on time.
|
|
|
Post by leafsoup on Jan 31, 2007 23:32:52 GMT -6
I'm back..barely 1. Pet Peeves..what a great idea and for you dear Lesigner..thank you for being on the opposite side for us no brains when we are doing the debit /credit machine..but tell me why the clerks I know stand staring into space when I tell em ..credit and they look at me like..huh? I SAID credit! So I have to wait for them to do it again. Does anyone use a pin in those machines anymore? I am not giving my pin number to anyone or any machine. And there are lots of machines and they are all different..so they confuse us..wah wah wah. And standing in line.. Well I want to put my arms out and twirl around in a big circle and say to the guy who is up my ***% to BACK UP! YOU'RE IN MY SPACE! Does anyone care? If I wanted to have you breathing on my neck I would ask you. Does the next person in line need to be so dang close they can read the register of my checkbook? Can they not have enough patience to wait until I am through before they try to occupy the same space I am standing in? I once had a lady that literally tried to put her purse up on the same miniscule space that I had mine. I looked at her and said..Do you mind Hellooooooooooooo! We should have little squares in front of the check out counter for people to stand in. This is mine..that one is yours! 2. Next pet peeve is the drivers here in the south. Do old people not remember the handbook they once studied from to get their license? The LEFT LANE is for passing someone..so get out of it!!!! And if you can't see your dashboard well enough to know your bright lights are on ..get off the road! I have always wanted to get a big fat paint ball gun and splat them as I pass by. 3. Clerks in any store that carry on a conversation with the employees while I am trying to check out. "I don't care about your date last night..just check me out" 4. Bad manners that are infilterating the business industry. If I call you and leave a message, then call me back. If you don't want me to call you again, then call me and tell me that ..otherwise I am going to keep calling you. NO I won't get the hint..i am hoping you will get the hint to do the right thing. Puff puff ..pant ..pant.. that felt really good to get that off my chest.. ha.. not really cuz I will probably just shrew about all this again tomorrow..hee hee..
|
|
|
Post by leafsoup on Feb 2, 2007 23:37:41 GMT -6
Phalon said she was going to rant and rave a bit here .so I am going to put another pet peeve of mine until she does. The pet peeve is my own stupidity that annoys me! Ever have those days when you do something really dumb and then realize you have no one to blame but your own stupid self? I called Walmart today to see if they had the fabric I needed to finish a bed skirt. Calling all around town to every Walmart within a 100 mile radius ..there was none of the fabric I needed to be found. "NO one is going to have it anywhere", they all said. Do I believe them? NO. So I called one more store and low and behold..they had a lot.
So after work at 5:00 I drove 45 minutes in the opposite direction of my hour long drive home I said to myself ...if the person on the phone had made a mistake I would not be mad..and just pretend that I was enjoying the drive. "Sure you will"
Braving the local yokels..I asked for an attendant to help me. Guess what ..no fabric!!!
I told her of my long drive..how the woman promised me she had what I needed.. and then a big fat lightbulb went off in my pea brained head.. This wasn't the store I called.. ooops.. stomp stomp..mumble mumble. "Thank you anyway, I am an idiot!!!!!!!
So I drive 45 minutes back to my original destination spot plus another 1/2 hour to the spot where I was supposed to go. I got my fabric..yea!! and proceeded to the check out. A woman with the energy of a sloth checked out half the country town before she got to me. I was in line for 30 minutes while Ms. Slower than crud.. does her thing. I had another psycho moment imagining myself going ballistic..screaming and the police coming to haul me off.. but it faded and I smiled at Ms. Sloth as I got to the register. At 9:16 my brother called as I was pulling in my drive-way.. "I' just got out of Walmart %*LL! Help!
|
|
|
Post by Mini Mia on Feb 3, 2007 0:16:12 GMT -6
You poor thing! I'm trying to not let such things bother me anymore. Getting upset doesn't change anything, so why waste the time on blowing up. (Yeah. I said I was TRYING! ) It really is a waste of energy, though.
|
|
|
Post by Phalon on Feb 3, 2007 10:50:27 GMT -6
Oh, don't even get me started on Wal-Mart Hell; that is a thread of it's own.
Mia....
This is something I tell myself, but how come I don't listen until after I've blown? I'll have to remember to talk more loudly next time.
Pet Peeves unleashed, and about to run rampant. Wonder how long before they're reigned in again? I think I should have named the lovable idiot cat "Peeve". Then I could point and introduce him as "this is my pet, Peeve." Cuz it's true.....in a lovable sort of way.
Not lovable are the drivers. Leafsoup - you'd fit in nicely up here I think in your 'get-out-of-the-passing-lane' mode. We drive fast...or so it's been said. Navigating through Detroit is a perilous racetrack; I finally found an alternative route to avoid it when visiting home. My sister-in-law from KY recently remarked on the change in her driving habits since moving here. She said that while growing up, they always noted when seeing a speeding car on the highway that it usually had Michigan plates. We have a need for speed. Maybe it has something to do with the auto industry here. Maybe it has something to do with wanting to get the hell out of Detroit as fast as possible. Michigan Lefts - those are fun in a round-about way; we turn right to go left.
My driving related peeve of the week has little to do with driving, other than it drives me mad and involves vehicles. It's parking.
I like to park, but dang, I haven't done that since that van tryst a couple years back with Hubs. If the van starts a rockin' don't bother knockin'. Didn't Stevie Ray Vaughn sing that? Close enough - but not too close; the windows aren't tinted. Can you see through steamy windows?
Oh, but we do! Not in check-out lines, but there they are: painted in glaring white, or a nice shade of you-can't miss it yellow. In parking lots. SUV parkers are the worst. If you can't park it, park it...in your driveway. Do not take up two places in an already crowded parking lot because you can't see over the massive hood of your beast to get it between the lines. Snow parking is worse - there are no lines visible, but still common sense would dictate that all the cars should face a similar direction - not perpendicular to each other just because that's were you've slid to a stop.
Oh - and my own stupidity; that I do introduce often.
|
|
|
Post by Mini Mia on Feb 3, 2007 21:42:44 GMT -6
It isn't just the SUV drivers that don't park between the lines and take up two parking spaces. Other drivers do it as well to keep someone from parking too close and dinging their doors. The hospital parking lots would be full up and there'd be several cars taking up two spaces. I sometimes wanted to wait for the driver/s to come back to their car/s and scream at them that I needed that space so I could go visit my parent/s who were on ventilators. (One in Oct of 2006 & the other in Dec. of 2006)
It tends to get your blood boiling when you're worried about losing your parents and they're worried about dings on a car door.
|
|
|
Post by marjancin on Feb 16, 2007 12:35:27 GMT -6
My pet peeve is all these damn Colts fans still taunting Bears fans, like myself, about the Colts victory and that the Bears suck. I mean, how would they like it if the shoe was on the other foot? If the Bears had won, would they enjoy people shoving that in their faces? I think not! That's just blatant lack of sportsmanship. Whatever happened to good old-fashioned peace of mind? That's definitely the attitude I would have had if the Bears had won, I wouldn't be saying, "Yeah, baby, the Bears won! Eat your freaking hearts out, Colts fans! Your team sucks ass!" Moreover, the damned Superbowl is over with. That just shows how empty their lives are if they still feel the need to gloat about it nearly two weeks after the fact. GET OVER IT FOR CRYING OUT F**KING LOUD!!!
Other pet peeves include
- People talking down to me. I mean, come on, I am nearly 24 years old here! Last year, I had my appendix taken out. The nurse was so sicky sweet that I was practically able to PUKE it out! She was forever calling me "Baby" until I told her to cut it out already. And then she was telling me every little thing to do (such as, after I had used the bathroom (I didn't need no stinkin' bedpan!), she said, "Get on into the bed now, honey." I was like, I KNOW WHAT TO F**KIN' DO!! I did, however, ask her nicely to not talk to me like I was about four years old, but little good that did. I was so glad when it was all over. Next time I have to be hospitalized, I'm going to ask for her NOT to be my nurse. She belongs in the children's ward - the LITTLE children's ward, that is.
- People who say "shut up". There are other ways to ask people to quiet down or stop bugging you. There's "shhh" or "Quiet, please" or, if you're more annoyed, "Knock it off", "Cut it out", "That's enough", "Leave me alone", or other things.
- Neighbors who gawk at me when I'm out in the yard. One of them who lives on the corner, who made it clear that she was too good to be my friend right when she moved in, was always sitting out on her deck and when I came outside, she'd stare at me. I'd try staring her down, sometimes with a dumb look on my face to let her know how annoying she was being, but that never worked. One day, I got so fed up that I went back inside, took off every single piece of clothing off that I had on, and walked outside butt-naked. Since my yard is enclosed by a fence, this gawking neighbor would be the only one to see me. She gasped and then ran inside her house. I went inside and put my clothes back on so that if she were calling the cops, it would be her word against mine. But she never did. Everytime I came outside and she was sitting on her deck, she'd go back inside. Now who had the power?
- Drivers who honk their horn at you for the most minor infractions. Such as if you don't take off right away when the light turns green. It's like, give me a chance. Some cars take a second or two to go. Or if you're driving at "only" two miles over the speed limit, the car will pass you, honking their horn. I mean, geez, what the hell is your problem? If you're late for work, don't blame me. Start about five minutes before you did and you'll be just fine! I, on the other hand, hesitate on honking my horn if a driver around me does something to piss me off, because you never know who carries a gun nowadays. One day, these people who blast their horn at someone driving too slow or lingering at a red light will end up getting their outline traced with chalk.
I'm sure I'll think of more later on.
|
|
|
Post by Gabbin on Feb 17, 2007 23:13:04 GMT -6
People who drink double choco beer and write on the internet pages inebriated (and cannot spell it).
|
|
|
Post by marjancin on Feb 21, 2007 20:54:33 GMT -6
Just thought of another one; people talking gross in restaurants, where people are trying to eat. Just the other day, I was at Fazoli's, next to a table with a baby that kept crying. Even though that was annoying in itself, it wasn't the part that ultimately ruined my lunch. I heard the baby start passing gas. The mother just thought it was adorable. She started saying, "Oh, are you farting? How cute!" Then she said, "Phew! That stinks! I'll bet you made a major poop there!" Then she said in a louder voice to the two pre-teens with her (who were also being disruptive by horsing around), "Girls, Jacob just laid a good one!" I was disgusted. I got up and moved to another table before the smell had a chance to hit me. The mother must have noticed me rolling my eyes as I went because she called after me, "What's your problem? Don't you know that babies can't control their bowel movements?" I didn't even dignify her ignorance with an answer. I mean, how stupid can you get? I know full well that babies can't control things like that. But do you really need to be so vocal about it, and in a frickin' restaurant? As an adult, you should know better than that! She kept saying stuff to me, and about me to the other girls (probably her sisters, as young as she looked) in a voice loud enough that I understood that she meant for me to hear it. My appetite was greatly reduced but luckily, I was almost done. As I sat sipping my soda, I noticed her leaving. As she walked by me, she mumbled, "Bitch! At least I have a baby, where's yours?" Again, I didn't dignify her by responding, but for a moment, I had the urge to say something like, "She's at home within reach of a frizzy electrical cord." That wouldn't have been wise; as low as her IQ seemed to be, she'd probably thought I was serious. Anyway, what was it to her whether or not I had a baby. Hey, I'm almost 24, single, childless, and a virgin and damn proud of it. What the hell is she doing getting knocked up as a teenager? I feel sorry for that poor kid, being raised by a worthless tramp like that!
That's not the only bad experience I've had at a restaurant, unfortunately. I could literally write a book about horrible restaurant episodes. But there are a few of them that especially stand out. I was at Red Lobster in early 2004 with my then-boyfriend "Kyle". The people at the table next to me were talking about the movie "The Passion Of The Christ", which was the popular film at the time. They were going over the gory scenes and not really making any kind of effort to keep their voices down. Kyle asked them very nicely to not talk so loud about such unappetizing stuff and one of them gave him a dirty look and snarled, "If you don't like it then you can just leave!" Uh, this is Red Lobster, where you're seated. You can't just get up and move at the drop of a hat! Kyle did, however, summon the waitress and ask to be moved and we were moved to the corner of the restaurant, where there were fewer surrounding tables.
The other recent one I can remember was back in 2001 at an Italian Restaurant in a town adjacent to where I live. Two employees, a guy and a girl, were at a table near the kitchen, apparently designated as a "staff break table". I went to the washroom and when I returned, the girl had her socks and shoes off, placed on the floor right next to the table in plain view of other customers. The guy had her feet propped on his lap and was massaging them. Like the shoes and socks, the girl's feet were also in plain view of everyone. First off, I think feet are gross anytime, anywhere. I never go barefoot or wear flip-flops or any kind of open shoe, even in the hottest weather. That shows how disgusting I think feet are. But in a restaurant where people are trying to eat? Very unsanitary! I said something to them and they both said, "Oh, sorry." sounding very sincere and I was thinking, oh great, they're going to go someplace else. But the dude continued rubbing her feet. I said, "Well?" The guy said, "We said we're sorry." and then kept the massage up. I ended up leaving without even waiting for my food. I paid for my drink and asked to speak to the manager. When I told him about the situation, he laughed and said, "Don't worry, her feet are clean!" I couldn't believe it! Didn't this guy care about his business? I'm sure I wasn't the only one who would be disgusted by what I had seen! Yeah, sure, her feet were clean after being stuffed in those socks and sneakers! I'm sure they smelled like roses, too! Anyway, I was about to say something else, but I just left, never to return again. The next day, I reported the incident to the board of health, because, as I said, having bare feet in an establishment where food is served is not sanitary. They ended up closing sometime the following year. Coincidence? Maybe it was, maybe it wasn't, but it doesn't matter anymore.
Those are the most recent ones, but there are more. Who knows, maybe I'll add them to this post.
|
|
|
Post by marjancin on Mar 30, 2007 14:22:19 GMT -6
Well whaddya know, I had another not so good restaurant experience today, although most of it happened outside the restaurant. You see, I went to a local eatery for lunch and, while waiting for my food to arrive, I sat gnawing at one of my fingernails, since I've been having problems with my guy friend (he seems so wishy-washy anymore, so I think we're going to be nothing more than friends from now on, but let's not stray away from the point...) Anyway, after I ate, I paid my check and as I was heading across the parking lot to my car, a lady, approximately 40 years of age, came up to me and said, "Excuse me, but did I see you biting your nails earlier?" I was like, "Who wants to know?" She showed me her hand, displaying very badly grown fingernails. She said, in a mother-teacher type voice, "I used to have a habit of biting my nails and now look at them." I was already pretty annoyed, because who did this woman think she was, coming up to me and preaching to me about such trivial stuff when she didn't even know me. To try to get her away from me, I said, "Oh, you don't have to worry, I don't chew below my fingertip. I'm sure my nails won't get that bad." Then, the woman proceeded to RAISE HER VOICE AT ME! She said something like, "I don't care! I didn't think I would either and now look at my nails! Look!" I decided that I had heard enough (actually, no - I had heard enough before she came up to me and started talking about her nail woes). So I said, "Thank you for sharing." As I walked to my car, she shouted, "Don't you dare walk away from me, young lady! If I ever see you biting your nails again, I will dip your fingers in vinegar!" I turned back to look at her, because I had to have known her from somewhere; a total stranger would NOT be hollering at me like this. I asked, "Excuse me, but who are you anyway? I don't think I even know you." She said, "You probably don't know me, since I just moved here." Then I said to her, "Well then why are you jumping down my throat about this? People have gotten their asses beat for less than that." She said, "You wait right here; I'm going in to get a bar of soap!" As she ran in, I got into my car and peeled out of the parking lot. Although, I sort of regret not sticking around (hidden, of course) so I could get this woman's license plate number. God only knows what she had been smoking. Either that, or she was a schizophrenic or something. But at the moment, I just wanted to get the hell away from her. To say she was making me feel uncomfortable would be an understatement. If she was telling the truth about her just having moved here (from what asylum, I wonder?), I'm wondering if I'll ever see her again. If I do, and she starts something with me, I'm going to get her license plate and report her to the police. She has absolutely no business running around at large in her condition, whatever it is.
|
|
|
Post by Phalon on Mar 30, 2007 21:11:33 GMT -6
I don't know how I missed your stinking feet at the restaurant story, Marjancin, but ewwww. I hope there was at least a sign in the kitchen that read, "Employees must wash hands after returning from massaging feet."
Your nail-biting story - it had me on the edge of my seat...uhm..biting my nails to see what would happen. I'm sorry; I know it must have been frustrating - I woulda been freaking - but dang, your retelling of it made me laugh.
BOLL!
|
|
|
Post by marjancin on Mar 30, 2007 22:18:17 GMT -6
I don't know how I missed your stinking feet at the restaurant story, Marjancin, but ewwww. I hope there was at least a sign in the kitchen that read, "Employees must wash hands after returning from massaging feet." Well, I should hope that guy washed his hands after handling that girl's feet, I don't care how clean they were. And, since the shoes were very well worn, plus, from the glimpse I got of her feet (I didn't look too long because, as I said, feet gross me out more than anything), it looked like she had been wearing them for quite some time, so I imagine they smelled quite ripe. Just the thought of that ruined my appetite for lunch. However, it wasn't quite as bad as the baby who took a dump and his mother announced it to the whole restaurant. So your little one filled up his diaper. Woo-friggin'-hoo! Who hasn't? And it just recently occurred to me - she never took the kid to the restroom or anything to change him. That's very unhealthy to leave a baby sitting around in his own body waste like that. And it can't be very comfortable for the baby, either. That girl has absolutely no business raising a child. Poor little guy's got a tough road ahead of him! I mean, those girls, who very well could have been her daughters (but more likely, her sisters, since she looked like she was in her teens), were running around and throwing wet napkins at one another like a pair of five year olds, yet they had to be at least nine or ten - old enough to know better than to be so disruptive in a restaurant. When I was that age, if I'd ever acted like that in public, I'd get the seat of my pants warmed. But I never did, because I was taught well at a very early age. Too bad these girls weren't and it doesn't look like that baby will be either. The mother obviously was never taught any manners - I merely rolled my eyes and she got all bent out of shape. What's that all about? Your nail-biting story - it had me on the edge of my seat...uhm..biting my nails to see what would happen. I'm sorry; I know it must have been frustrating - I woulda been freaking - but dang, your retelling of it made me laugh. Yeah, now that I look back on it, it actually was quite funny. I mean, this crazy woman getting all hot mad at me, a total stranger, for biting my nails, just because her nails were all chewed up and everything. It was almost as if she were blaming me! Boll? I don't quite follow. Is that a condition or something? Anyway, I told my boyfriend about the situation and he figured it was dementia. I thought that set in during advanced age, but this woman couldn't have been any older than 50; she looked to be in her early 40s, but who knows? Nowadays, many people look younger than they are. My boyfriend, for instance, is 28 years old. But he still gets carded when he goes into bars, because he still looks like he should be in high school. His Dad is about 60 and he still looks like he's in his 30s. So who knows, this woman could be a senior citizen. But I wasn't about to hang around and find out. I just hope she's not laying for me somewhere with a bar of Lifebuoy in tow. I don't need to be stricken blind before the age of 25!
|
|
|
Post by Mini Mia on Mar 31, 2007 18:23:45 GMT -6
BOLL = Burst Out Loud Laughing
|
|
|
Post by Phalon on Mar 31, 2007 20:48:14 GMT -6
And there ya have it, Marjancin - straight from our Fairly Bored Mum's fingertips, (hiya Joxie!). BOLL is a Whooshism, I believe; I've never seen it anywhere else except the long since defunct Oxygen Xena board from whence it came. Courtesy of Lola, if I remember correctly.
|
|
|
Post by marjancin on Apr 1, 2007 16:32:40 GMT -6
Ahh, I see. Well, I'm glad you liked my remark. I had a bad dream the other night that the nail-biting woman was stalking me. I was so relieved when I woke up. I literally said out loud, "Thank God that was just a dream!" I sure hope my dream wasn't an omen of things to come. I mean, think about it; the lady was unusually interested in me, or what I was doing, anyway, when she didn't even know me. Well, if she does start stalking me, I'm not going to let it run my life. I'm damned if I'm going to sit inside my house 24/7 worrying if she's lurking outside. But I doubt it; as far as I know, I may never see her again. I sure hope so; she was definitely not all there.
|
|
|
Post by Mini Mia on Apr 1, 2007 19:02:49 GMT -6
|
|
|
Post by Phalon on Apr 1, 2007 22:42:19 GMT -6
Hopefully that woman, Marjancin, was just one of those eccentrics, or crazies that just pop into our lives for the briefest of moments, and are never to be seen again - those that give us a great story to tell, and nothing more. She's probably off chasing someone else with Irish Spring by now.
|
|
|
Post by marjancin on Apr 2, 2007 10:08:52 GMT -6
Yeah, these incidents I've told about, as aggravating as they were, did make for a few good stories. I was going to say something like I should probably stay away from restaurants (as this was the first time I've eaten out since the Fazoli's episode), but maybe I should continue to eat at restaurants (when I can afford it, that is) so I can post more interesting, funny stories.
|
|
|
Post by vox on Apr 2, 2007 13:40:52 GMT -6
Hi everyone! I'd say that you'd make a very good restuarant critic Marjancin! keep up the stories, I find them fascinating! you must be an avid 'people watcher'.
|
|
|
Post by Phalon on Apr 4, 2007 9:41:18 GMT -6
I agree with Voxy Lady - you'd make a good restaurant critic, Marjancin. When you can afford it? Shoot - make a pitch to a publisher; write a book proposal: "For Your Dining Displeasure" or "Poop, Feet, and Life Buoy: Things Not on the Menu". Get them to pay for your meals as part of the contract.
Then you will truly be a "suffering writer"....literally.
|
|
|
Post by moonglum on Apr 7, 2007 1:56:19 GMT -6
People who end every sentence with 'innit'. This seems to be the norm over here now and it really winds me up.
"We're going down the pub, innit". "Innit, what?" "We're going down the pub, innit" "Yeah, I know that, but the pub isn't .........WHAT!!" "Nuffin, we're just going down the pub....................innit" "Arrrrgggghhhhhh"
MG
|
|
|
Post by Phalon on Apr 7, 2007 20:41:35 GMT -6
LMAO. Hubs was just talking about something similiar - phrases that people get stuck on and can't let go. He has a contact he talks with every day at work who ends every sentence with "'n everything like that'". Such as:
"We're going down the pub, 'n everything like that". "Everything like what?" "We're going down the pub, 'n everything like that" "Yeah, I know that, but the pub and everything like .........WHAT!!" "Nuffin, we're just going down the pub....................'n everything like that." "Arrrrgggghhhhhh", says Hubs.
|
|
|
Post by marjancin on May 1, 2007 12:13:56 GMT -6
I agree with Voxy Lady - you'd make a good restaurant critic, Marjancin. When you can afford it? Shoot - make a pitch to a publisher; write a book proposal: "For Your Dining Displeasure" or "Poop, Feet, and Life Buoy: Things Not on the Menu". Get them to pay for your meals as part of the contract. This past weekend, I had yet again another not-so-pleasant restaurant experience. It was not quite as bad as the farting baby and the anti-nail biter, but it was definitely gross. I was at KFC with my boyfriend this past weekend and, as we're in line placing our order, in walks this guy wearing a tank top and he had so much armpit hair, it looked like he had Buckwheat in a headlock. And he had B.O. something awful. And, to top it all off, there was a dead fly on the back of his tank top! We got our food and went to sit down. The restaurant was virtually empty and the guy has to choose the table next to us to sit. We did move, but my appetite was reduced somewhat. Tank tops should not be allowed in restaurants. If I'm not mistaken, the "Shirts required" rule is so one's armpits aren't exposed. Well, guess what? They're exposed when wearing tank tops which, in my opinions, aren't shirts. As we were driving back to my boyfriend's house, he said that he was really wanting to tell that guy to put a shirt on, and slap on some Speed Stick while he was at it. But he didn't because you never know how someone will react. As far as we know, the guy could have had a gun in his pocket.
|
|
|
Post by marjancin on May 1, 2007 21:21:47 GMT -6
I just thought of two more and - wow! Neither of them have to do with restaurants or anything, how about that? They both have to do with my job at the video store and they're sort of connected to each other. OK, we have a select few customers who, upon finding out that we don't have the movie that they're looking for, hang around in case someone should happen to return it, especially when the movie is due today (unsurprisingly, 99 percent of the time, the movie never comes in during the time they're here). There's this one guy in particular (let's call him Jeff) who does this all the time. And he gets on everyone's nerves, yakking on about stuff that nobody cares about, and cracking jokes that are absolutely NOT FUNNY. I swear, the lamest jokes I've ever heard have come from Jeff. He was in this morning, looking for "Shrek" and talking to "Paula", who was waiting on customers. I was checking in videos that came in. Since we were slow, as we are on most Tuesdays, I was working rather slow as well - slower than I do on our busier days, that is. Jeff saw me and said, "Hey, if a watched pot never boils, does a watched Jackie ever work fast?" I gave him a look that clearly said, "What's that supposed to mean?" I felt like saying, "Hey, at least I got a job, where's yours?" (He recently got dismissed from his job for being too lazy, or something like that). But, knowing that I'd have to explain myself to the manager, I decided to keep my mouth shut. Now I can never rely on my co-worker Paula for any support when I voice my displeasure about people like the horse's ass that was making fun of me this morning. I mean, hell, before I even get the first word out, she always blows it off right away by saying, "Just don't worry about it. It's not worth getting worked up over." Uh, it's like I'M the one at whom the fun is being poked; therefore it's for ME to say whether or not it's worth getting worked up over! Anyway, later that day, I was in the break room, talking to Kathy, another co-worker, about this guy, who especially gets on her nerves, since he seems to have a crush on her. So she was very understanding at how annoyed I was when he cracked that "joke" (although it really doesn't deserve being dignified as a joke, since it was not at all funny - no matter who it was aimed at). But then, along comes Paula and, hearing what we're talking about, she says, "You two, don't get all upset about him. He's not worth the time. Complaining about it isn't going to make him stop." I said, "Excuse me, but I don't believe I was talking to you, now was I? How about worrying more about you and less about what other people are doing or saying?" Kathy nodded in agreement. I mean, I can see why Paula would say that if I was bitching about it to her, since, as you can see, she's very anti-complaining. But I was talking to someone else. Besides, I know full well that grousing about Jeff isn't going to stop his asinine behavior. But venting can actually be quite healthy. If Paula wants to keep everything bottled up inside her and wind up with a peptic ulcer, that's her damn problem, but if I'm upset and want to shrew about something that's pissing me off to someone who totally agrees with me, then dammit, that's what I'm going to do and Paula has no right to try and stop me. Anyway, all Paula did in response to my criticism was shake her head and went to the soda machine to get a pop. So those are the two pet peeves - guys like Jeff who hang around the video store like they own the damn place and get on everyone's nerves and people like Paula who try like anything to keep people from complaining about people like that. And you know what, both of them, as you can see, are your typical buttinskis. I can't help but to think they'd make a perfect couple. (Don't worry, I'm not going to get any ideas. If I were to do so, the guy would be coming in even more often!)
|
|
|
Post by Phalon on May 25, 2007 19:29:20 GMT -6
Scissors. I have five pairs of them; three in the jar on my desk - different pairs for different tasks, and two of the all-purpose variety in the kitchen.
Or I had five pairs. Now that I need to use them, I have none.
But miraculously, the girls' scissors have reappeared - almost instantly after mine disappeared.
My scotch tape has vanished. My kids are probably the only kids who receive rolls and rolls of scotch tape for Christmas - all in a vain effort to keep them from using mine.
Sigh. Has anyone seen the stapler?
|
|
|
Post by Scrappy Amazon on May 26, 2007 1:04:38 GMT -6
What is up with all the music on cell phones instead of ringing. I gotta say, for someone who spends a good portion of her day making phone calls, the obnoxious rap junk that serves as a "please wait until some one answers or the voice mail goes off" service sucks. I am a total fan of music of all kinds....and there are even some rap and hip hop songs I can get into....but that is just annoying. By the time I get to the end of the dang song half the time I have forgotten who the hell I'm calling.
|
|
|
Post by marjancin on Jun 8, 2007 9:45:15 GMT -6
OMG, you can actually hear that (c)rap music on the other end of the line? I thought those ridiculous ringtones could only be heard on the actual phone, when it started ringing. I agree, whatever happened to the old-fashioned "Br-r-r-r-r-ring!" I thought it was bad when they invented those grating electronic rings (which I realize was around the time I was born, but my family always had a regular ringing phone, as did most of our family and friends). Those (c)rap song ringtones are so annoying that they should pass an ordinance to make those illegal. Actually, I think most establishments, like restaurants, movie theaters, libraries, and the like, should instate a policy in which the ringer has to be turned off upon entering and calls must be taken out in the entryway. God knows how many times I've had to put up with people going on with lengthy phone conversations at all three places while I'm trying to eat, watch a movie, or enjoy a book (or post on the Net, which is generally what I go to the library to do - yes that's where I am right now). Fortunately, our library does have a policy of cell phones. Although the staff does send employees out to the hall to take the calls, many people with the phones forget to turn off the ringer upon entering and they're fumbling around in their purse, trying to get at the phone to turn it off. Umm, ever hear of clipping the thing to your belt? As for movie theaters, I heard that they were considering installing devices that would jam the reception, but I guess that fell through.
|
|
|
Post by marjancin on Jun 18, 2007 10:00:59 GMT -6
Another one, relating to something very upsetting I saw this weekend. Parents who embarrass their kids in public. I saw the ultimate in that category this past weekend. I was in line at the movie theater and there was a lady behind me, along with two girls, both looking to be middle-school aged. One of them suggested going to a friend's house after the movie. The mother said, "Ah-ah-ah, I don't think so. The last time we went there, we found you in Karen's bed with your vibrator going." Several people nearby laughed, but I did not, because I didn't find it a bit funny. Now I would have probably run out of the theater crying if I were in that girl's shoes. But all she did was just sigh, looking disappointed. So apparently, this woman embarrasses this poor girl in public so often that she's used to it. To think that I complained about my Mom ruining my reputation when I was a teenager. She never did anything even remotely similar to this! So what if the girl used her sex toy at someone else's house? Sure, it's a little rude, but so is blabbing about it in such a loud voice out in public!
|
|
|
Post by Phalon on Jun 19, 2007 0:45:12 GMT -6
I've always told my daughters that embarrassing your kids in public is a parental right - it's in the handbook; Chapter 54, page 10023. This is especially crucial during the preteen years.
But the embarrassment is to be administered in subtle ways: holding hands with your spouse, singing "oldie" songs, like those from way back in the nineties, using that multi-purpose cleanser, "Mom-Spit", to clean a tiny bit of ketchup from the side of one horrified eleven-year old's mouth, or wearing fashions termed "Grandma-clothing" - although she did tell me I was a "Hot Mama" this past weekend in my standard crew neck t-shirt, while all those around me were wearing what Xena-Sista refers to as "Ho-Clothes", (another thread, another post, another evening). Course, "Hot Mama", (where'd you get that phrase, Dear?), could be referring to the sweltering heat we were trudging in that would make anyone oh-so-hot.
Embarrassment must never include belittling your children - in public or not. It'll get you kicked outta the club; page 10047.
|
|
|
Post by marjancin on Jun 19, 2007 17:13:46 GMT -6
I've always told my daughters that embarrassing your kids in public is a parental right - it's in the handbook; Chapter 54, page 10023. This is especially crucial during the preteen years. But the embarrassment is to be administered in subtle ways: holding hands with your spouse, singing "oldie" songs, like those from way back in the nineties, using that multi-purpose cleanser, "Mom-Spit", to clean a tiny bit of ketchup from the side of one horrified eleven-year old's mouth, or wearing fashions termed "Grandma-clothing" - although she did tell me I was a "Hot Mama" this past weekend in my standard crew neck t-shirt, while all those around me were wearing what Xena-Sista refers to as "Ho-Clothes", (another thread, another post, another evening). Course, "Hot Mama", (where'd you get that phrase, Dear?), could be referring to the sweltering heat we were trudging in that would make anyone oh-so-hot. Embarrassment must never include belittling your children - in public or not. It'll get you kicked outta the club; page 10047. Actually, the stuff in the second paragraph there isn't too bad. I was talking about parents who administer this in ways that are far from being subtle, like belittling their children in public, like the woman I saw at the theater this past weekend. I think she could have told her in a hushed tone why she didn't want to go over to the friend's house. Or better yet, just say, "No, we really don't have time." She did NOT have to bring up the vibrator story. It was totally unnecessary, unless the daughter kept badgering her about it, which did not happen. The woman didn't even give it a chance to happen. I almost stepped in and said something, but, as I've mentioned before, you should be very hesitant about confronting strangers, since you do not know what they are like. And if a woman would have the unmitigated gall to bring up such an embarrassing story in public in such a nonchalant manner, she very well might have attacked me, be it verbally or physically, if I had spoken up.
|
|