I realize I live a pretty charmed life. I’m kind of spoiled, in fact. I have a great job and a lovely apartment that is safe. I have a healthy, happy child and food in the fridge. Everything is pretty perfect. I really have nothing meaningful to complain about. There are just a few grievances I have that are admittedly pretty first world:
These easily become more tangled than the plot lines of my favourite soap opera. The difference is that I know how this one ends. They get gym sweaty and pop out without warning, cutting off my power song mid-chorus. I’m like “What’s that, Taylor? I can’t hear you! WHEN ARE Y’ALL GETTING BACK TOGETHER? I totally missed it!”
2. Poorly Worded Menus
“Would you like your fries with ‘au jus’, Miss?” In French, ‘au jus’ means basically ‘with juice’. So no, I don’t want my fries ‘with with’ juice. Just one ‘with’ is fine. Who proofreads this crap and when did it become a culinary standard to bastardize a language just because most people don’t speak it? Parlez-vous, biatch?
3. People who signal while doing things instead of before doing things
The signal is to communicate your intentions to other motorists. It is not a literary device to narrate a dangerous manoeuvre already in progress. I want to know you are planning to cut me off. I don’t need notifications you are already cutting me off. I can see that. Thank you.
4. iPhone Chargers
Like most of my relationships – these are always just a little bit too short and fall apart at the most inopportune of moments. The end is almost always shocking (Literally. Ouch.) You can tell it’s an Apple charger because it looks like somebody took a bite out of it.
5. Resting “friendly on transit” Face
Something about my face says I am compiling an anthology of rehab or bootcamp experiences and I am always receptive to a stranger’s romantic advances. The combination of hoody, headphones and books are obviously me being coquettish about things because my eyes say “Tell me more.” They actually say “Please stop talking now.” I just want to ride the bus and read some judgment-free soccer mom smut without interruption (50 Shades Of Get Me The Hell Out of Here.)
6. Being Added to Facebook Groups without Consent
Once upon a time, I was a party girl. I would wake up in strange places, like the bathtub, or some random dude’s couch. Now, I’m a suburban soccer mom and life is much tamer, but significantly more annoying. I go to sleep and wake up part of another Jamberry group. I would rather wake up in a bathtub. At least then I wouldn’t have so much enthusiastic company. On the flip side, I can leave the group without trying to figure out cab fare or where I left my shoes.
7. Summer Out-Of-Office Replies
I email someone and get referred to Dave in Accounting. Dave in Accounting is in Hawaii right now, Aloha, but Bill in Marketing would be pleased to take care of things for me. Except that Bill went to New York on a weekend get away. This is the worst scavenger hunt ever. I hate this game. It would probably be easier to shout out profanities and see which heads pop up out of the cubicle maze.
8. Flat Iron Evangelists
You know, those overly aggressive kiosk sales people at the mall. “Have you heard the good news about….?” I look at them and point to my “I woke up like this” mane of disheveled curls and challenge them to a game of chicken. Who’s going to break eye contact first? They are staring me down in hopes I will spend 30 bajillion dollars on a hair utensil I will never use. This mall ain’t big enough for the both of us (and my curls.)
I may live a pretty charmed life, but the only way I’m coming to your Jamberry party is if you help me out with these damned headphones. Otherwise, you can follow the instructions on my Out of Office reply. Aloha!