things i hate

As MJE gets older, creakier and crankier I have decided that I have every right, now in my dotage, to declare loud and proud all the things I hate. I don’t have to to be decorous anymore, I don’t have to “make nice” with people I don’t want to, go to events I don’t enjoy, eat avocados (disgusting in every imaginable way: color, taste and consistency, and that was before tariffs) mussels (I used to love them but sadly my once fervent desire has fizzled) or lobster (literally the only expensive food I don’t like).

But the #1 thing I really do hate is gravity. What a pain in the ass. It is the bane of my existence. It’s the reason I fall down, well that and a few too many pops. It’s why I am overweight, literally “lighten up already,” it’s why when you drop something it immediately hits the ground and finds the deepest, darkest corner to land, pills are peculiarly adept at this. It’s why planes crash, bombs fall, and christmas trees and old people keel over.

I think I’ll itemize from here:

Whistling. I (and Winston Churchill) loathe the sound of whistling. Sadly, the OB&C fancies himself the world’s greatest whistler, laments that there isn’t some sort of international competition (which he would certainly win) and will launch into all four movements of beethoven’s ninth symphony unprovoked. And trust me the whistling doesn’t stop until he gets to the last note of the third movement when he draws a breath (he’s particularly proud of the fact that he can whistle while inhaling and exhaling, which means you never get a break) pauses and launches into ode to joy in faux german. Eine kleina nicht en hernia…etc. He also believes he has a voice to rival pavarotti and will burst into song whenever there is a slight gap in ongoing conversations. Otherwise he is a cowering introvert, he swears.

People drinking something while chewing food. It’s is totally repulsive, why do they do it. As it says in the bible, there is a time to eat and a time to drink, but not both at once, for god’s sake.

Dirty ears. Once you see it, that person will forever after be remembered solely for his/her dirty ears. Look, I know doctors say you’re not supposed to put anything smaller than an elbow in your ears, but, why would god make q-tips if that were true. Think about it.

People who “reach out” to me. What the hell does that mean, are you in a lifeboat and I’m drowning in the ocean? Whatever happened to call, email, text, write, telegraph, smoke signal…English has been bastardized enough (see “like” between every other word) no need to dumb it down any further.

Running out of staples, the excruciating sound of the click of an empty stapler is like fingernails on a blackboard. Even though I know any supply of staples is not infinite, it still infuriates me. It’s a minor thing, but one day it’s staples, the next thing it’s light bulbs, then batteries, printer paper, it all adds up. I guess that’s what people refer to as making a mountain out of a mole hill. Also I hate moles.

People who ride your bumper on mountain roads. Don’t you want to jam on your brakes and make them rear end you and have to pay for the damage. Conversely, people who drive 20 miles an hour on mountain roads, and, not to paint an entire state with a broad brush but most of them are from a place that starts with fl….and ends with da. Look if you decided that you couldn’t stand michigan winters and chose to move to somewhere sunny and warm, like the aforementioned state, then stay there! Don’t come creeping back up north. But if you do, #1 driving tip: if there are three cars behind you, pull over doofus and let them pass. It’s common mountain courtesy. Sheesh.

Sauvignon blanc. If I want to drink grapefruit juice, I will gladly do it with a shot of vodka, but don’t pour it in a bottle and call it wine.

Cuticles. Seriously, what is their purpose?

Badly behaved dogs. It’s not their fault, it’s their owners. And when some huge, out of control beast slams into your knees, the owner says he’s really sweet just high energy. Or, he’s never done that before, or one bites the shit out of your hand and the owner pats the the dog and quietly says, now killer, that’s not how we treat guests, is it?

Waiter/esses who come to the table and ask if “we” are still enjoying our meal. What’s with the we stuff, you’re not sitting at the table are you? And by the way I don’t give a crap what your name is, where you were born, went to college, or what your major was, however I would like to know why a sterling college grad such as yourself is waiting tables. Bet your parents are proud as punch at what their hundreds of thousand of dollars bought.

Speaking of college, I hate it when people casually drop the name of their ivy alma mater into an otherwise unrelated conversation. Not to name names but I find princetonians to be particularly prone to this. I seldom mention that I received a fine arts degree from a below average cow college even though it’s a really interesting factoid.

Well, obviously I could go on and on but another thing I hate is when people don’t know when to shut up.