White people doing acoustic covers of R&B/rap songs.
Listen, folks. This has got to stop. It's an epidemic and it's f-cking awful. If you get the impulse to sit down with one of your sorority sisters and do a cover of "No Scrubs," go back to bed and start your day over. This is a perfect example of what I'm talking about. STOP THE MADNESS.
Motorcyclists on the interstate.
WHY?! Why?? Why??? Why are you on the road hurtling through space with little to no protection on? Why are you weaving, zipping through cars at 90 mph? Where are you going that's more important than where I'm going? Do you think you look cooler than everyone else? You don't. I'm calling your mom to have her come pick you up. Why is your engine so loud that is scares the pants off me? I AM TOO OLD AND TOO FEEBLE MINDED TO BE DEALING WITH YOU RIGHT NOW PLEASE STAY OFF THE ROAD.
Every time I see a smoker in public, my first thought is, "Oh wow, so people are still doing that, huh?" And sure, I get that my processed food/sugar intake could be likened to a similar sort of "ignorance-is-bliss-and-I'm-gonna-do-what-I-want" attitude on my part, but it's not as obvious and it doesn't smell as bad or look as stupid. Smoking on a weekend outside a bar is one thing, smoking in your car with your kids in the backseat is another. Ya gotta stop it.
People who still defend 50 Shades of Grey as feminist literature.
I just don't even feel the need to go into this, but it isn't. It's TERRIBLE WRITING. Just admit that you're getting your jollies from this book and we'll all respect you a lot more. I think this garbage is coming back out as a movie I think and we're about to have to deal with a whole new onslaught of trailers where Dakota Johnson tries not to be actively repulsed by whoever that guy is. Spare me.
Having to screen 14 calls a day made by nervous Birmingham-Southern freshmen asking me for money.
I don't know what has changed at my alma mater since I graduated, but back in my day, if you called someone and they didn't answer, you wrote "DIDN'T ANSWER, LEFT A VOICEMAIL" by their name and moved down the list. Darth Vader has apparently stepped up to the plate and has forced these poor 18-year-olds to be unrelenting in their solicitations for fundraising capital, and I have received no fewer than 5 calls a day since last Friday. I finally answered and spoke to my boy Matt, told him I would donate and to send me an e-mail with a link. He called me at 8 PM. That's a little late, Matthew. BSC, I love you, I want to donate to you, and will as I do every year, but stop blowing me up.
Pyramid schemers on Facebook who force me to tell them, "No, thank you," more than once.
Look, I am ALL ABOUT some girl hustle. Seriously. If what you want to do making money for your family is sell cosmetics or supplements on the Internet, by all means - it's a free country. Hell, I know some people who are making incredible amounts of money doing that (although this whole "Sell Plexus products and you can make more per year than a physician!" thing seems a little hyperbolic, but I digress). But lately, I've had four or five different folks message me on Facebook asking, for the second or third time, if I'd be interested in trying one of their products.
It is SO HARD FOR ME TO SAY NO IN THE FIRST PLACE. I feel SO MEAN. I feel REALLY BAD. It causes me to sweat and type like forty drafts of saying no to make sure that I have been as inoffensive and supportive of your hustle as possible. So if you continue to ask me, I am officially mad at you for forcing me back into the anxiety sweats more than once. It's just mean. Quit it.
Being called a pet name, ever, for any reason.
Self-explanatory, lady at Zaxby's.
People who rattle candy at the movies.
Why do they even PUT Peanut M&M's in an extra plastic bag WITHIN the box?! Wasteful. This so easy, though. Here's what you do: ya get your box. Open the box. Open the plastic bag, Remove the bag from the box. Dump the candy into the box. Discard the plastic bag. Enjoy candy. What not to do? Struggle with opening the plastic bag a millimeter's worth of a tear at a time through the most intense parts of Arrival. I'M TRYING TO WATCH AMY ADAMS COMMUNICATE WITH ALIENS, PLEASE, PLEASE, YOU HAVE TO STOP, I know there's one M&M left at the bottom of the box but just TURN THE BOX UPSIDE DOWN AND OPEN YOUR MOUTH REALLY WIDE that's what I do, works every time. You're killing me.
Look, there's more where this came from, but I'm going to use some self-control and stop here. I REALLY want to know your pet peeves/irrational annoyances, etc. It will please me greatly. And if one of them is "Millennial bloggers who complain about stupid stuff," I mean...I pretty much tee'd you up, so take the shot. I get it.
Love you guys. Peace and blessings.