Novelty toys/devices that sing, talk, and/or emit sound effects.
At my store, across from my pharmacy, lies the “seasonal” section. For Halloween, there will be little shelves full of toy mummies that moan, bats that squeak. For Christmas, dancing Santas that shout “ho ho ho!” at passers-by, reindeer that sing the first few lines of Rudolph.
Every season, for some bizarre reason, there are toy hamsters with nunchucks that disco dance, twirl their nunchucks, and sing “Kung-Fu Fighting.” Even Valentine’s Day. I expect to see a kung-fu hamster embedded in a Memorial Day wreath eventually, to honor the memory of our fallen soldiers with a little nunchuck twirl and a hearty “hee-yah!”
Anyway. I hate those toys. I hate the people who try them out. I hate the people who try the kung-fu hamster two or three times, then try it just one more time, thinking that, perhaps, the hamster might do something new. I hate the people who set off 144 Santas, one after the other, so that a cacophany of unsynchronized "ho ho ho!"s thunders away. I hate the people who giggle and take delight in toys that make noise. Not only do I wish to throw those toys in the trash compactor, but I think the folks who shop for those toys should join them.
(Of course, I’m perfectly blameless in my love for the talking greeting card from Hallmark that features the “wah wah WAH” sound of Charlie Brown’s teacher. That’s okay.)
OMG I love those! I especially like the little rat thingy that’d sing, “I think I love you” for Valentine’s Day. When I was in Iraq around Thanksgiving we had this turkey thing that whenever you’d press the button it’d dance and sing, “Turkey in the something gobble, gobble, gobble.”
Every single time I watched that I couldn’t help but smile. And more often than not I’d let out a little giggle.
So yeah, you are my new life-long enemy. Which is totally awesome 'cuz I’ve always wanted a nemesis.
And we’ll put our differences aside and fight side-by-side when Dangers Greater Than We Can Handle Alone™ threaten the earth. Like a giant, moon-size “Chicken Dance” novelty toy.
Androgynous voices on the telephone. I worked at a reservation center for about two years and (though I know that there is no real way to control this, naturally), I cannot for the life of me stand the inability to decipher if a certain customer calling in happens to be a female with a really masculine voice, or a male with a really feminine voice. Cause, wouldn’t you know my dumb ass luck, I reply with a polite ma’am or sir, and then I am embarrassed to find out that I’ve used the wrong title…
I’m really not getting this. Everybody else seems to understand and agree, but I’m not getting what you’re talking about. I don’t remember any program that acts like this.
If I ask question X, which will enable me to calculate Y, it annoys me when people give the answer to Y, even if they’ve worked out that that’s the end information I wanted. It’s not what I actually asked though.
In total agreement with everyone who hates the sound of other people eating, and will add the noise that some people’s throats make when they swallow. It’s entirely unreasonable, but it makes me want to deprive them of food and drink altogether.
Also, as a daily user of the London Underground, any form of hesitation or delay at the ticket barrier makes me want to scream in frustration. I even hate the people who use tickets instead of an Oyster (swipe) card, because it takes a few seconds longer. And if you stand in front of the barrier to look for your ticket/work out where you’re going/stand and look bewildered, I may have to kick you.
I hate that when people are not interested in you on Match.com or wherever after you have written to them, they won’t write back to say “Thanks, but I’m not interested.” I totally understand why people would not want to do it, and I totally understand that my few crafted paragraphs have arrived in the middle of a shitstorm of unwanted come-ons. And I don’t really like doing it myself, but I do anyway. And I think this tiny bit of digital rudeness that everyone is allowing themselves to commit day after day has colored the way that people approach the whole online dating thing. “Piss me off” seems strong, but it irks me more than it should, as I try in general not to give a shit what strangers do.
Oh, I thought of another one: people at a checkout counter who wait until the clerk has totally finished ringing up all of their stuff before they ever pull out their wallet! Jeezopete, you KNOW you’re going to have to pay. At least have your wallet in your hand!
Even more unreasonable (on my part): the Taipei mass rapid transit system uses RFID cards, where people can wave their bag or wallet (containing the card) over the barrier and it will open up automatically. Well every so often the sensor doesn’t sense the card and the commuter has to try again. During that half second, I, the commuter behind him or her, am stopped in my tracks and I do get that itchy feeling in my right foot as well. MOVE, dammit!
I’m busy, don’t have an open pack of cigarettes, and you want one. OK, fine. You then commit one of two cardinal sins when I allow you to open my pack. You:
a) don’t pack 'em down first, or
b) pull the left piece of foil instead of the right.
If you do either one of those things once, you will never, ever open one of my cigarette packs ever again. Seriously, there’s a list with names on it. Next time I’m busy and you want a cigarette, you will stand there and wait till I’m done with whatever I’m doing until I have the time to open my own damned pack the correct way.
(What’s hilarious is that none of the people on The List know they’ve done anything wrong, and that’s pretty much the only place in my life I will just be passive aggressive and let myself get away with it, because it’s such a tiny little thing. But dammit, they’re MY cigarettes!)
The *only * thing I use an ATM for is to withdraw cash. That’s it. Anything more complicated I do in the bank. And I can withdraw cash from an ATM in less than 20 seconds. Invariably, though, when I’m in line at the ATM, I am *always * behind some clueless woman who spends 10 minutes transferring money between accounts, balancing her checkbook, or whatever. :mad:
Something that once would have been at least a medium sized annoyance, in these modern times relegated to tiny: restaurant servers who obviously haven’t been trained in serving, e.g., standing on my left to reach across and fill my glass on the right, thereby putting his or her elbow square in my face.
I bartend, so I deal with ashtrays all day, and I don’t understand why people feel the need to use them as little trash cans. If you get a lime in your drink, don’t squeeze it and put it in the ashtray! Now the damn thing is wet and I have to dry it! Ditto for napkins, cigarette wrappers, candy wrappers, etc…if you put your trash in a little pile I will pick it up for you. If you want to do it yourself, there are trash cans all over the place. The ashtray is NOT a a tiny wastebasket!
And if you chew gum or mints, DO NOT PUT THEM IN THE FUCKING ASHTRAY!
Talk about disgusting! I then have to PEEL your nasty gum or wet fucking peppermint out of the ashtray! This makes me want to stick it in your drink!
This is a tiny thing that shouldn’t piss me off because yes, ashtrays are meant for disposable items…namely ashes and cigarette butts. The leap from there to “anything I don’t want” is not that far. In their own way I think people are trying to be polite, by not just making a mess and leaving it lying about.
But dammit, a pile of trash in the ashtray makes me insane.
And gum and mints in ashtrays make me want to yak.
Well, a good example… If I try to select your reply from within the quote tags. I put my cursor next to the full stop after ‘this’ I press the left button… I begin to drag… And Suddenly the [ and the / of the closing quote tag have magically become selected.
Try it yourself - click reply on this post. then try to select my text without selecting any part of the quote code.
If it doesn’t decide to select more than you are selecting then you are lucky.
Nose whistles, yes. They make me twitch. They’re the sound of air passing through boogers. Can’t you hear your own fucking nose making these heinous sounds?
Loud car stereos, especially those with lots of bass. Yes, I see you, and you’re so fucking cool – in your Honda. Your mating call has been heard. Now shut that shit off.
The sound of packing tape coming off the spool. GAH, why did they make this shit so noisy!?!?!