Why Yes, I Can Be a Misanthrope

This post is pretty self-explanatory. I made a list of things that bother me, and I came up with these juicy items off the top of my head in a matter of about 30 minutes. It is not meant to be taken too literally, as I don’t develop rage and turn into Russell Crowe wielding a phone or Charlie Sheen just being himself. Actually, I don’t ever really get angry at anything at all. But these things all do make me wonder what is wrong with certain aspects of society and the people who inhabit it. And, yes, it is subjective. But it is a blog and is meant to be subjective because, uh, it’s mine.

Hopefully you will share my disdain with one, a few or all of my provided examples. And remember: the list is always growing. Let’s begin:

  • People who don’t get into the middle lane turning out of a subdivision, halting the progress of people who want to turn right at a red light when traffic is clear.
  • Families that have stick figure representations of themselves on their rear windshields. Are they trying to make it easier for thieves and murderers to identify those who inhabit the house, even pets?
  • When you are hungrier than usual and go out to get a burger or sandwich and the restaurant messes up your simple order, either by missing toppings or essential ingredients or just making a shitty food item in general.
  • People who don’t clean up after themselves at the gym. It takes 12 seconds to wipe down a machine, bench or cardiovascular equipment, but your fat ass needs to save that 12 seconds for an extra scoop of ice cream when you get home, ya piece of shit. (Sorry. It’s just unsanitary.)
  • People who drive on Sundays. Now, I’d say that at least 70 percent of the general population drives like shit, but driving on Sunday is a whole new exercise in futility. Many people have nowhere special to go on Sundays, but that doesn’t mean you just loaf around. Many drivers seem to age 20 years on Sundays. The “day of rest” thing is a religious sentiment, and if you want to rest take a nap on your couch, not in your car.
  • People who drive slow in the left lane. This is self-explanatory and is the unofficial driver’s code in America. Left lane is the fast lane, right lane is for those playing with their pricks and eating a Big Mac. It’s a road, not a fucking drive thru. Pick up the pace or move your ass before I tailgate the shit out of you and make you think I’m going to knock off your bumper, which I might.
  • People who are smiling all the time. Life is not that amazing that every waking moment is something to enjoy. You may think it is, or were raised to believe it is. It’s not. Smile when you see a beautiful sunset or a nice pair of fake tits, but don’t be smiling when you are picking up eggs at the grocery store or getting a car wash. Those people who are always smiling actually scare me a little.
  • Bluetooth-wearing bastards. (Side note: This mostly excludes those who use Bluetooth headsets in states that outlaw talking on the phone while you drive, but those are the only ones exempt from my tirade.) Are you that narcissistic and self important that you need to be ready to answer every call that comes your way at any time? Here’s a thought: You’re not as important as you think and life goes on if you miss a text, a phone call, an email or a fax. What did you do as a child, carry around the cordless phone? Get some friends.
  • Those sad human beings who post the bane of their existence on some sort of social media site. Newsflash: Nobody gives a shit that you just ate Indian food, have a “real difficult exam” in the morning or are stuck in traffic. These people should be tarred, feathered and then thrown into the nearest body of water.
  • Video screens at gas pumps. Unless you are planning on standing at a pump for an hour, what is the point of these screens? To implement some form of technology at any opportunity into the American landscape? Are people that dull that they can’t just…wait for their tank to fill up, that they can’t think of something interesting while they are doing it?
  • Bar bouncers who feel empowered. Yeah, middle-aged man with a tight t-shirt (or real fat guy with a scraggly beard), we all think you are so integral to the bar scene. I mean, you tell guys to straighten their hats and you keep the 90-pound girls in check. Not all bouncers are dicks, and I tend to notice that most dicks resort at douchy bars and are the ones with inferiority complexes and small dicks.
  • Being charged at an ATM to take out my own money. So, I put my card in, take my money and then they take some of my money back. OK.
  • The person at the grocery store who parks their cart in the middle of an aisle and bends over to read labels and takes away another part of the line, therefore they are blocking two thirds of the aisle.
  • These drunk drivers at 4 a.m. who don’t even conceal their absolute, utter drunkenness. You sit at a red light and one of these crazy bastards just drives right through a red light from 100 feet away. Then you know they are thinking, “Ohhh. Oh shit, I just did that.” Their heads are turning, looking for cop cars or lights in their rear views.
  • Bikers who ride on a main road where cars are going over 40 MPH. It may be legal to do, but do they want to get hit by a car? You know it has happened before and it will surely happen again. If they hit a pebble or a big rock, the rider is toast. And whose fault will it be when the rider tilts off his Schwinn and gets mauled by a two-thousand pound SUV? The driver, of course. Gotta love it.
  • Valet parking at the mall. Who the hell are you to have to get valet parking when you go shopping at JCPenney? You can’t walk 50 feet like the rest of us, can you? Oh, no, you need some 17-year-old kid with greasy hair to park your Fiat right by the front doors so your ass can instantly be closer to the food court. You enjoy that Panda Express while I key your car on my way in.
  • The person at the sub shop who looks as if it is their first time traversing the earth. You get to choose your bread, so pick one. It’s just bread, and what matters more is what is inside the sandwich. This leads me to the meat and vegetables: You know what chicken is, right? You know what steak is? You know what a fucking tomato is? If so, what is the hold up? A sub shop is still identified by Zagat’s as ‘fast food,’ but you all make it very, very slow for the rest of us. Some people are in a hurry, which is why they chose to eat here to begin with. It’s cheaper and quicker, except when you are here, with you. And who are you people who bring in your own Ziploc bags for the ‘sandwich artist’ to put your delicate BLT into? Even worse, you order five different subs and put half a sub into each bag. Now, I’m no mathematician but I am observant, and you are an asshole.
  • When it comes to dating and relationships, why do people always say, “There are plenty of fish in the sea”? After all, fish aren’t the most cordial of animals and wildlife. Fish eat other fish, which is the equivalent of a relationship being destroyed by someone who doesn’t have the heart to stick around with someone else. Some fish are predators, like some men are womanizers. Some fish are stupid, like some people are stupid. And the irony is that fish swim in schools where as many couples need a teacher (see: therapist) to help right the wrongs in their relationship. Sharks also eat people, which is more irony inspired by our sea-faring friends.
  • Guy drenched in cologne at supermarket. Are you trying to get multiple free samples, is cologne your ideal method of masking away body odor because you don’t ever shower, are you trying to get with the elderly woman at the deli counter, or all of the above?
  • Restaurants that bring the dinner salad out AFTER the main entree. This has happened to me on multiple occasions. It’s not disheartening as it is aggravating, because you are eating your meal and wondering if the waitress is going to fetch your salad at any moment, and then it sits in the back of your mind. Just eat, Nick,  just eat. But I can’t because that salad was part of everything I ordered, and I am paying for all this food out of my own pocket. I have the right to be disheartened. It takes away from the deliciousness of the actual meal, at least it does for me. Any time a waitress does that to me, I yell, “No tip!” Just kidding. I tip them, but I use Canadian money. Women love Looneys.
  • When someone at work nearly brings the building down with a god-awful stench in the bathroom. It’s after lunch and we all know what you did in there, so at least try to mask the odor so us innocent bathroom goers don’t have to deal with your fiber ad nauseum — literally. There is an air freshener in the bathroom that smells like lilacs, and it is there for a reason: to cover up your roast beef-and-death stench.

That is about it for now. If I go any further I might pop a blood vessel or, worse, maybe even try to use reason and understanding through the majority of my daily interactions. Life is no fun if you take it too seriously.

Plus, it’s just way too damn nice of a morning.


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