I have a balcony overlooking our modest sized neighborhood, on which I have been known to enjoy a cool brew after work.
But is a rare day that someone nearby is not mowing their yard, which at some point just becomes nails on a blackboard to me.
Had quite a few nice evenings more or less ruined that way, relaxing on the rear patio grilling or having a drink. It’s not so much if Joe Homeowner himself mows, but that if Joe or Jane Homeowner hires a guy to come by and mow and blow with super loud equipment.
Chocolatey means it has no actual chocolate. 
I was behind two people on Living With The Land at Epcot and they proceeded to talk to each other about other things throughout the first half of the ride, and then it became clear from their conversation that this was their first time on the ride and they were enjoying the ride. I can understand if you’re jaded to it through being on it so often or just general apathy, but if you’re deliberately enjoying a work of art for the first time you should stop multitasking. Of course, they were talking during the ride which isn’t entirely benign and appropriate but this post reminded me of it.
It’s the homeopathic version of chocolate.
Actually, I’m not sure which is worse, “chocolatey” or “chocolate-flavored.”
Someone waved a still-wrapped Hershey bar over the vat of product.
Blurgh! That reminds me of the time a friend and I shared a large, solid “chocolate-flavored” rabbit. 
I once went on a boat trip through the marvellously named Doubtful Sound in New Zealand. Spectacular scenery, and this was a one day trip, most of which was getting there and back from the nearest town, with just a few hours on the water. There was a guy sitting inside the boat reading a newspaper for the entire time on the water. I didn’t even see him glance out the window.
I agree he had the perfect right to do that, and I concede that it did not affect me in any way whatsoever, but this was over 15 years ago, and it still bugs the hell out of me.
I used to work on the 30th floor of an office building.
So - going home after a long day. Get to the lift lobby, push the button. Wait. Wait some more. Wait some more (It’s going home time, and I’m on the 30th floor, remember). Keep waiting.
Eventually, hear the ‘DING’ and the lift doors slide open. At THAT EXACT MOMENT someone else would arrive in the lift lobby, see the lift open and squeeze in ju-u-u-st before the doors closed - usually with a big grin on their (stupid) face.
And I would seethe internally - ‘I did that! I called the lift! I wasted the enormous amount of time (1-2 minutes) waiting for it. And you just waltz in, and jump in MY lift!’.
Was I being unreasonable? I don’t think so.
The entirely justifiable nature documentary irritation reminded me of one of mine: people referring to their pets as their children and then expanding that concept to apply to, say, a cat and a dog as brothers or sisters. I have a dear friend who calls her sister’s dog and her own dog as cousins. This does not affect me! This has nothing whatsoever to do with me! But I am filled with contempt every single time I stumble across this phenomenon. And I want to make very clear that this has nothing to do with my attitude towards animals in general and pets in particular. I have had lots of pets in my life; currently; I have a 15-year-old JRT who occupies a significant amount of my heart. I love him to distraction, but he is not my son. He is not my (shudder) furbaby. He is my companion. Isn’t that a worthy enough role with sufficient inherent dignity?
“Creamy” is my most hated culinary term. Know how some people hate the word “moist?” That’s how I am with creamy. Totally unappetizing.
I used to share a cubicle with a woman who ate an apple at the same time every day. CRUNCH…CRUNCH…CRUNCH…CRUNCH.
And THEN she would stand the apple core up in between our desks. I could feel its moist-saliva -mouldiness staring at me all morning.
Karma being what it is, what did you think / do when you walked up to the lift lobby just as the lift doors opened and you and whoever had been standing there for however long entered the lift?
My old boss used to eat an orange at his desk once in a while. I found the smell very distracting, but I’m not sure why.
I absolutely cannot stand food noises like that. Crunching anything- ugh! It makes me want to kill. I read one time that during the production of a horror movie, the special effects people (back in the day) were looking for a sound that replicated the noise made by someone crushing bones – they put a microphone up against the cheek of a person crunching ice.
There’s a name for this: misophonia.
…
Misophonia is a disorder in which certain sounds trigger emotional or physiological responses that some might perceive as unreasonable given the circumstance. Those who have misophonia might describe it as when a sound “drives you crazy.” Their reactions can range from anger and annoyance to panic and the need to flee. The disorder is sometimes called selective sound sensitivity syndrome.Individuals with misophonia often report they are triggered by oral sounds – the noise someone makes when they eat, breathe, or even chew.
…
Yes, at Thanksgiving I take care not to sit next to my beloved grandmother, lest I stab that dear woman with a fork.
Speaking of annoying noises, my husband has frequent sneezing fits. They go on for about twenty sneezes, and happen a few times per day. He can’t help it, and I do feel sorry for him, but also, I have to hear somebody sneezing all the damn time!
Girlfriend does the chain-sneezing thing too; eight, nine, a dozen times or so. She’s also one of those that engage their vocal chords while sneezing, so what we hear is a sudden yelp followed by an immediate inhaled gasp. Over and over. Time really does slow down it seems, because while the sneezes are a fraction of a second apart, just as I ( we ) think that this sneeze will be her last…out comes another one, forcing to hold my long in the waiting “bless you” in abeyance.
Me, I sneeze like a big dog would. Not very often and with no vocalization. Just a big “chuff” like sound of large volume of rapidly discharged air.
My ex-husband used to have the same sneezing fits, only he would scream out each sneeze with all his might. I count myself lucky that the current guy just sneezes like a common person.
And I gave up on “bless you” long ago!
Yeah, I find “bless you” stilted and anachronistic. I never use it when others sneeze, just with her, or I’ll catch hell. 
This appears exactly what the OP was asking about, my hat is off to you, sir! 
Along those lines- I used to ride Caltrain. Before they had ‘quiet cars’ a lot of people used to sleep if they were getting off in SF, the last stop. I was one of them. But on several occasions a group of 4 or so people would get on and carry on a loud, boisterous fun conversation, not allowing me that extra hour naptime.
Since it was before Quiet Cars, they had every right to do so, but yes, I seethed. Or moved. or both.
Well, yes, a little, but again, this fits perfectly with the thread.