Me, too. But I will give a pass to the not one but two women who have someone next to them apparently trying to slurp their face off. Ew. I’d probably make a grapefruit face, too, right before I slugged them in the groin.
I’m guessing that a lot of those pictures are alcohol-fuelled. Still, the face slurping is weird. Kids these days. 
I will readily admit to being unduly annoyed by tiny things, and too laid back about things that should make me tear my hair out. Here are a few things currently under my skin:
Kellogg’s contention that the chick in this Special K commercial needs to lose weight.
Drivers who arrive after me at a four way stop and then wave me on, as if the right of way was theirs to offer me. Grrr! I turn into Joon from Benny and Joon, “You can’t give me what was already mine!”.
Produce (primarily grapes and cherries) bagged up in a way that makes it difficult to buy any amount other than whatever the grocery store has decided is the right amount.
Holy hell, this made me laugh so hard.
And why can’t the stall doors open outwards? If the stall is small and/or you’re not, you practically have to stand in the toilet to open and close the door. I can’t imagine it would cost more or there is any practical reason for it.
I can’t stand it when people make user names without vowels. How do you pronounce pbbth, anyway?
Wait, let me put up my umbrella before you tell me …
Stick out your tongue and blow a raspberry…that is the way my username is pronounced.
For me, it’s just one little piece of punctuation: the apostrophe.
Nothing drives me more insane than that damn apostrophe s shit. I can’t even type an example–it drives me so freaking insane.
Especially when I see it in advertisements in newspapers or printed media. Don’t you people have spell check on your computer?
Excessive commas in sentences also drive me nuts.
I think I see a pattern here.
I thought of another one: I get so annoyed when I go out for my evening walk and there are others walking around, too. I get doubly annoyed when they look at me. Yeah, I know they have every right to be there, just as I have. But, dammit, I have to smile at them and say hi. They’re my neighbors, after all, and I don’t want to be on bad terms. But, my walk is my only alone time. I want to at least pretend I’m all alone.
Vanity plates.
Seriously.
those folks who carry enough stuff onto the bus to take up three people spaces (as well as their own) AND act all entitled when someone wants to sit down… NOT those with a big load who will kindly make room for someone! Seats are for butts, not baggage…
Referring to a driver’s license as if it were a plural noun: “Have you seen my driver’s license? I can’t find them.” IT ISN’T A ‘THEM’. IT IS AN ‘IT’.
Superfluous quotation marks that actually give a sign the opposite of its intended meaning: Try Our “Homemade” Cookies!
People who freeze on escalators right in the freaking middle of the step, so those of us who are not totally baffled by the concept of actually using our legs are stuck behind their fat asses.
The most infuriating things, though, are the things I must endure as a waitress. First and foremost: I am clearing dessert plates from a table. The plates are all but licked clean. One of the diners says, with mock seriousness, ‘I didn’t like it at ALL,’ and waits for you to laugh at their hilarious joke. I have waited tables for half of my life, and I HAVE HEARD THAT STUPID ASS JOKE MORE TIMES THAN I HAVE HEARD MY OWN NAME. Don’t make this joke. Just don’t. For the love of Christ, don’t. We are T-I-R-E-D of it.
Also: I greet my table with, ‘Hello, how are you doing today?’ The reply is swift: ‘Sweet tea. I’m ready to order, too.’ Really, that’s how you’re doing? ‘Sweet tea’ is how you’re doing? Listen, here’s how I"M doing: I spend all day, every day, pretending to laugh at your lame, repetitive ‘jokes’, refilling your diet cokes ten times a visit while you inhale ranch dressing like it’s water, and frantically bussing the dirty table you insist on sitting at instead of the clean table in the section of the waitress who has not just been triple-sat. I am an experienced server, and I understand your need for vomitously over-sweetened, criminally iced tea, and I will provide that for you. But at the beginning of the meal, you are going to pretend to treat me like an actual human being for TEN SECONDS, or I will hock a f*cking loogie in your clam chowder. And oh yes, when you are a dick there most certainly ARE extra ingredients in your food. Count on it.
Sorry. After eight straight doubles, I REALLY need a day off. I am not always this psychotically homicidal.
Holy ventilation!, Unloading all of that was ridiculously gratifying. Bless you for starting this thread. Many innocent (albeit ungodly annoying) diners’ lives have been spared.
You’re not supposed to kill your patrons, you know.
People whose user name is a random collection of letters and numbers, e.g. “yi3338372.” Come on. Pick a real user name. That nonsense looks like you let your 2-year-old bang on the keyboard for a couple of seconds to pick your user name.
People who stand on the escalator. It’s just a freakin’ stairway, folks, not a carnival ride; the fact it happens to be moving doesn’t remove the possibility that you can still move too, you know. And if you did it might not be so freakin’ crowded.
People who get off the escalator and. just. stop. and. freakin’. stand. there. What the hell did you expect to find up here? If you didn’t know what was up here, why the hell did you get on the freakin’ thing in the first place? What do you expect the 20 folks behind you to do, step backwards down the escalator until your neuron fires?
People who stand back just that little bit too far from the end of a queue. Are you in the queue or are you not? If you’re waiting for someone, stand the hell elsewhere. Or step up like a good little citizen.
People who don’t notice that the light’s gone green, barely make it through before the yellow, and then have the freakin’ nerve to flip you off because you dared to gently toot them to get their head out of their freakin’ phone or iPod or whatever.
People who are always late. And I mean always; without fail at least 30 minutes if not more. What is your problem? How can you run your life like you’re in a different timezone? Have you any idea what that does to the lives of everyone you interact with? My own brother was 27 hours late to a family lunch once; he simply couldn’t get his freakin’ family out the freakin’ door in over a day. My (now ex-, fortunately) sister-in-law would routinely start a job of work at the time she should have been leaving for an appointment, or leave at the time she was supposed to arrive. When challenged, she’d say any inconvenience to us was our fault for expecting her to be on time after all these years.
And thanks to this thread, I [probably] won’t.
People that ask how much I’ve spent on my bikes or make a big deal if they do find out. I don’t care if you only spent $100 on your bike. It’s a piece of trash and you never use it. I’ve gotten more value out of my expensive ones that you have out of your toy from the toy department.
I don’t get in a tizzy, but I think lesser of people who push the button multiple times thinking it will operate faster, especially the elevator-call button. As an embedded firmware developer, I once told a college professor that if I ever have to do the coding for an elevator, I’m putting in a special piece of code that would actually delay the elevator if someone pushes the call button multiple times.