People who park their asses in the left lane, regardless of traffic or the speed limit. People who do this at 10-15 mph UNDER the speed limit should be pulled from their vehicles and beaten with sticks.
I have a saying that I’d like to turn into a national billboard campaign;
If you are being passed on the right, you are in the wrong.
OK, something that really shouldn’t piss me off, but does…
I’m at the gym, trying to squeeze a workout in the small bit of extra time I have… some middle-aged geezer wearing a t-shirt and jeans is hogging the machine, making a huge huff-and-puff show of doing 100 superfast reps at 10 pounds each. Because the high reps burn teh fat, doncha know. Because you burn more calories when you do it real fast, doncha know. Oh, and yes, there’s a 5-minute rest between sets. Sitting on the machine. Because there has to be a rest between teh sets, doncha know.
sigh Just go do girl pushups on your knees, you’ll get more benefit from it, and you won’t bottleneck the machines at peak hours.
Let’s be intolerable friends.
Shit. Try getting a flattop. A skilled barber can do it in under 5 minutes, stylists try to drag it out for over twenty. And all the little hairs. They cut them over and over. I’m trying to teach it to my wife but it’s proving to be quite a task. God, I love her.
My mom and I used to go to a hairdresser who would take at least 45 minutes. I’m rather uncomfortable when I don’t have my glasses on (it’s that whole ‘I can’t SEE!’ thing). We decided she was cutting each hair individually. And no, I wasn’t getting anything complicated - a quick little bob, as I recall.
Hm…my hairdresser charges extra for that.
I get pissed at singers who try to sound like they’re from Brooklyn when they’re not. You know, people who drop their R sounds and think they are being artsy.
Well, they are not. They just sound like idiots. I see stahhhhhhs when I’m in your ahhhhms cause of youah chaaaaaahms Stop it! You don’t talk like that so don’t sing like that. It fucking bugs me. Enunciate your fucking R sounds.
I have two exceptions to this rule: Barbra Streisand and Shirley Bassey.
I’m a cook and very much embroiled in the ancient and deep-running mutual resentment between cooks and waitstaff. I am one of the faster and better-skilled cooks in the restaurant, having been at it for four years (keeps me in beer and pizza till I graduate).
I love the people I work with, but dammit, sometimes they piss me the fuck off with the levels of retarditude they sink to. They’ll stand behind me while I work and wait until I finish their item instead of tending to their sidework or checking up on their customers. They try to get me to make their items first, before everyone else’s; some have tried rearranging the tickets on the hanger in an attempt to trick me into making their items first. Wrong-o! This always lands them a place in the back of the line. Others forget to hang tickets until the last second, and beg me to drop what I’m doing to make their items. Bzzt! Wrong again! If you’re too absent-minded to remember to hang your tickets, you’re not worth the tips you feel you’re entitled to, and I’m not gonna make an exception for you.
Or they’ll write the tickets so poorly that I’m forced to stand there for a full minute to try to figure out what the fuck they wrote. There’s more than one waitron who’s been there for more than a year and still has no fucking clue about basic menu items (like our soups and sandwiches). Help me help you. I know you’re a clueless retard, and I can sympathesize (else why would I be in the restaurant industry?). But please, a little planning (and readable handwriting) helps the both of us out. Especially during rushes. We’ll both go home happy if you do.
This I agree with. I’m also infuriated when speeding semis decide to pass other semis who are going the semi speed-limit, so that for a while everyone’s stuck riding the brakes behind two massive semis in both lanes. Watching other people drive makes me sad and angry about human nature. I’m turning into some kind of traffic misanthrope.
Oh crap! The equal rights police have found me! As a general rule women carry a purse, do their hair, things of that nature that can take the focus off of ones head! Guys don’t have a lot of camouflage, except the ones that wear the baggy pants and pride themselves on you being able to see their boxers. Hey ! Why don’t those guys wear tighty whiteys? Probably so no one can see their package or lack thereof. Oh Hell No! did I just say whitey? I’ll bet Rev. Al Sharpton will be after me now. How does he find out about rites violations so fast? Makes me think he’s one of the Super friends or something. 
Awe man! I’d rather smack a rude asshole than beat an animal. What do you guys call it? Hyperbole?
So how about them Flying Cars, eh? 
(“Where’s those Flying Cars we’ve been promised?” Given how poorly people drive in two dimensions or less (one lane and a direction is largely ONE dimension), there’s no fucking way I want these people flying over my house!)
Yet another priceless bitchy breakroom sign:
When I see these signs, I don’t think “let’s all pitch in and help the poor overworked dear”, I think “finally, I can avenge 2 of my favorite favorite grammar and usage peeves just by soiling the microwave.” Am I awful?
I hate going to a convenience store to get gas and winding up behind some tool that is spending three minutes picking out “the right” scratch-off lottery tickets. Bonus points of hatred if they start to scratch them off while still in line.
I too hate mouthbreathers. That Archuleta kid from American Idol was one and sounded like the Elephant Man at times.
Three minutes? Pussy!
I once spent nearly 10 minutes waiting at a drug store counter for some elderly fuckbrain to slowly and deliberately pick out his roughly $100 worth of scratch off tickets. Each time he’d select one and the quantity, then wait for the cashier to give him his new total, then move on to laboriously selecting the next one.
When I finally raised a fuss about it (more than five minutes of clearing my throat and making comments under my breath having no impact on him OR the clerk - and having half a dozen people behind me who were also waiting), the man was utterly shocked to find that other people were waiting behind him! (Clueless fuck!) Then when he wrapped it up and walked out the door, the clerk (a 50-something woman) had the nerve to berate me for getting angry when that man’s daily visit to buy lottery tickets was the high point of his day! :rolleyes:
Yeah well, I guess I shouldn’t blame him. I should blame YOU, jackass. Either call for another clerk to open a second register, or ask the man to step aside for a couple of minutes while you deal with the SEVEN OTHER PEOPLE who are waiting in line.
People who don’t have a clue what is in certain food, so they keep you waiting while they question the cashier.
What’s in a Hamburger?
What the fuck do you think is in a Hamburger?
What’s in a Taco?
THERE IS PICTURE ON THE FUCKING ORDER BOARD, MORON
Note that I’m talking native born Americans here. There’s no way in fuck you can go through your life without knowing what’s in a Hamburger or a Taco. Even if you’ve never actually eaten one, you’ve seen them more than once.
Bonus points if they ask about several items, then order something completely different.
Gah!! I hate it when I open my Chapstick, and the wrapper comes off the lid. It drives me batty, and I spend the next thirty seconds putting it back on.
It’s idiocracy becoming real
Of course I never get tired of telling this story;
Back in the mid 90’s, I went to the local Taco Hell for lunch. I order the three taco meal and sit down with it. I open the first taco. Nothing but meat and lettuce. What the hell? I open the other two. No cheese?!? So I take my tray up to the counter and flag down a supervisor. She asks me the problem and I tell her that there’s no cheese on my tacos.
The teenage girl making the food turns in shock, looking very much like :eek: and says with total surprise and confusion, "You put cheese on your tacos???
Without a word, the supervisor dumps my food in the garbage, along with a half dozen already wrapped tacos on the counter, and stabs her finger a the chart that shows what ingredients to put on each item. She walks away in anger, but comes back about thirty seconds later to tell the girl that my order will come out of her pay and that it had better not happen again. I’m standing there thinking “damn, you didn’t have to throw anything away, just give me a cup of cheese!”.
How the fuck can you work at Taco Bell and not know that they put cheese in everything? Please, name ONE item they have that does not include cheese!
My kittens have started climbing things, including my legs, so i decided to go out and get one of those cat tower things with a built-in scratching post and several platforms at different levels. I figured that it might be fun watching them chasing each other around it, too.
They haven’t done more than sniff at it since I brought it home. My adult cat climbed up and lay on one of the platform for a few minutes a couple of hours ago, then jumped down and wandered off.
I don’t understand why this is annoying me so much.