I'm talking about pet peeves here. And you despicable people who bring them into the world. Have you ever read that book, "Don't Sweat the Small Stuff"? I haven't.
Let me tell you about my demeanor. Put me in a crisis situation, and I am cool as ice. Seriously, I was born without the panic gene, I get it from my mother, a nurse of 40-plus years.
But if I am trying to check MLB.com real quick for the Mets score before heading into a meeting, and my internet freezes, sitting there motionless except for that jerk off hour glass rotating round and round, laughing at me? Makes me want to kick a puppy. Seriously, put Marley in front of me in that particular instant - Jennifer Aniston is going to be in fucking tears.
In other words, when it comes to stupid people doing stupid things - patience is not a virtue that I possess. There are two types of you people in particular, you know who you are. And I am watching you. No, no - look here (two fingers pointed at my eyes). Watching you.
Couples who sit on the same side of the booth in restaurants.
You are not in high school anymore. Knock it the fuck off. I'm not talking about when you're with another couple, or when you specifically went out to have a drink and watch the game and it's the only way you can both see the TV. There are exceptions. But don't you want to actually, I don't know...look at the person you came out with? Pay attention to them, engage them?
There are only two real reasons that couples sit on the same side. One - you have heard every single story this person has had to tell, the sex is as cold as Corey Haim, and you have secretly fantasized about pushing them down a flight of stairs. And the only way that you can hang out in public is to make sure that you have as little eye contact as possible, to keep you from snapping and going at them like Rhianna after she just checked her text messages. What? Still "too soon" for that shit?
Two - you are under the table either receiving a hand job or strumming your girl's sticky banjo. Either way, grow up, zip your fly, and go wash your hands you dirty bastard. Your chicken strips are getting cold.
People Who Have Personalized Liscence Plates
Yeah, I know. At least a couple of you just winced out of guilt. I have only seen one good personalized license plate:
But that asshole doing 95 mph in the far right lane on the 405 last week with the plate that read, "TODS BMR"? I loathe you. And no, I am not jealous of your ride, even though I drive a '98 Saturn that's missing the passenger side mirror. I have no use for a sportscar - I am perfectly satisfied with the size of my penis.
But you 'Todd'? I know who you are. You are the kid in high school who lied about losing your virginity. You know, when you supposedly slept with that chick that no one knew, cause she went to a different high school in the next town?
In reality, while everyone else was at parties dry humping on basement couches, you were alone in your room, listening to Bobby McPherin's "Don't Worry, Be Happy", furiously pleasuring yourself until you blew your load all over that picture of Lisa Turtle from Saved By the Bell. No one cares about your Beamer, Todd! Now go drink your 6th Red Bull of the day, get a running start, and take a flying leap off the roof of your favorite 24 Hour Fitness you pathetic, self absorbed frat boy!
Whoo, what happened? I blacked out there for a minute. And....oh God, whose blood is this??? Shit, I gotta go....