I know I live on a busy highway, and I really don’t mind the traffic, or even most of the noise - you get accustomed to it, really. But Attention Truckers: This is coastal Georgia, for pity’s sake. You’ve changed area codes 5 times since you last saw a hill. The 45 mph zone started over a mile before you pulled past my house. WTF must you apply your Jake brakes about 20 feet away from my house? (I could be wrong, but it’s my understanding that Georgia law bans the use of engine brakes in residential areas, anyway. Even if I am wrong, though, there’s no earthly reason you should be using those suckers on that particular stretch of road. If you can’t figure out how to drive your damned rig, park it and let someone else haul that load.)
Chimera, when you’re World Emperor, could you do a little something about these morons?
Also? The city recently tore down the old fire station across the street from my house, to be replaced by a spiffy new building. No problems there, but good grief if that’s not gonna be the most over-engineered foundation ever on the new station! I’m not exaggerating when I say that the foundation has been under construction 6 days per week for the past 7 weeks. Back-up beepers, slamming tailgates on dump trucks, heavy equipment noise, and all - Monday through Saturday since the beginning of August. Stop it. Just. Stop.
(Can you tell that I work nights? Are my dark undereye circles showing?)
Milder:
Dear Boss,
If you’re gonna install a new keyboard on my computer? Don’t. I know that the “N” has worn off of the old keyboard, but it’s okay. I know where the “N” button is anyway. At least on my old keyboard. I can’t type worth a damn on this @#$%ing new keyboard, because the spacing is off my a tiny bit. And I keep hitting the caps lock button instead of the shift key. Highly annoying.
And far less mild:
Dear Fuckers from the Insurance Company,
If my premiums are a few days late arriving, I don’t have any insurance. So how come you assholes are allowed to spend 8 weeks cutting me a check? We’ve paid our goddamned premiums for this coverage. We’ve filled out all the stupid paperwork, submitted all of the detailed bills, and jumped through all of your hoops. Now that you’ve approved our claim, what gives you the fucking right to make us wait (literally) 8 weeks for the check to arrive? I hope that the committee that approves your corporate policies develops a highly contagious case of something really itchy. And chronic.