‘G’ is for Grrr…

Just a day late this time. Today I’m writing about things that have made me go “Grrrr…” lately. 

My antenna. We don’t have cable, and my antenna keeps screwing up. We’re watching the reboot of Roseanne (oh my lord, the politics in that first episode) and Splitting Up Together (Jenna Fischer from The Office is in it, and I was sold with the first episode), and I tried recording it on my Roku TV. My antenna wasn’t compliant though, so last week I had to wait a whole day to watch the shows on Hulu. A WHOLE DAY, y’all. The struggle, amirite?

My blue jeans. I don’t know what the heck is going on with my blue jeans, but for some reason the jeans I have had for a long time are dyeing the tan leather seats in my car blue! I don’t get why jeans that aren’t new are doing this. I ordered a product by the brand Mother and hopefully that will get the ink out.

My dad. Dude, don’t be judging my parenting because my husband took the toddler to the bathroom. Come on.

My son. Dude, don’t be stealing my pillows. Come on. Really, though, last week I was shining the light in my husband’s face and yanking his pillows out from under his head at 2AM, thinking he had pilfered one of my pillows. He hadn’t, but he’s a heavy sleepy, so he wasn’t bothered. And then I went down to my son’s room and found him with my pillow. Nope.

All the stores. They still have Easter chocolate and it’s at 75% off right now. I love Cadbury eggs so much, and I’ve eaten far too many. First it was my birthday, then a vacation, then the holidays, and then post-Valentine’s Day candy sales, and then the Girl Scouts, and then caramel Cadbury eggs were in the store…my willpower has been shit. Sell the chocolate for crying out loud so I don’t have to buy it!

People who can’t do lines. Why can’t people who aren’t children stand in lines properly? The Dollar General near my house tried to remedy the line issue by blocking everything off and putting up a huge sign that says “Line starts here,” pointing at a big black line in the floor to stand behind. AND ADULTS STILL CANNOT FIGURE OUT HOW TO DO IT. Motherfucker, do not walk through the line exit to the register that was just freed up and say “No one was going.” There were seven people in line. This is how people get stabbed.

What made you go “Grr…” lately?

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B is for BMHAW

Ready to expand your texticon again? Then let’s see what day two of the A to Z Challenge has in store for us:

Screen Shot 2016-04-02 at 1.12.34 AM

Seems like it should be BMHAAW or BMH(2A)W, doesn’t it? (Is nitpicking over the accuracy of an acronym young folks use an indicator that one’s age is north of 30?)

Use BMHAW when you want to express the frustration something or someone causes you.

Here are some things that makes me BMHAW:

  • Idiot drivers who never, ever use their blinkers. Little Man will attest to the fact that many drivers on the road are “mmmmmffffffnnnn morons who should not be allowed behind the wheel of a car.”
  • Donald Trump. Need I say more?
  • Pushy people who try to sell me stuff that I don’t want. I wrote about this here, but my most recent encounter was with a guy at Walmart who was trying to sell me a DishTV package, despite being told that I don’t have cable or satellite because I don’t want it. He insisted he could find me a package I’d be happy with (that’s what she said!), so I asked him to show me the ones for $10 or less, which is about what I pay for Netflix. He could not.
  • Older people who talk about how they did things “back in the day” in such a way that indicates precautions you take now are stupid. You know, “back in the day we didn’t have car seats and you kids turned out fine” or “back in the day everything wasn’t childproofed and you all turned out fine.” Clearly we’re coddling Baby Girl by not kicking her butt to the booster seat when she turned one and by not giving her unlimited access to poisonous cleansers.

Angry-Liz-Lemon-Gah-Reaction-Gif-On-30-RockAlternative meaning: There’s one at Urban Dictionary, and it was a little too inappropriate for this post.

Textspeak I passed up: BAMF (bad ass motherfucker), BITD (back in the day), BFD (big fucking deal).

So, what leaves you BMHAW (er, BYHAW)?

Pet Peeve: People Stopping By

Don’t you just love it when people stop by your house either at a moment’s notice or with no notice at all?

Oh wait, that’s not you? It’s not me, either.

To put it lightly, I am not a fan of people dropping in. Unless I send out fancy invitations with cursive words on them that suggest one stop by, I don’t do drop-ins. Or dropping by. Or popping over. Or any of the other phrases people use that really mean “I’m gonna intrude on your privacy.”

“Never invite yourself over,” my grandma taught me as a kid when I asked my aunt if I could spend the night. “Sometimes people aren’t up to having others over and it makes them feel bad to say ‘no.'”

That’s a good rule. One I live by. It doesn’t make me feel bad to tell people “no,” though–just irritated that they apparently don’t live by the same code. Which happens to be a lot of the people in my life.

“I don’t mind if your house is messy,” my mother-in-law has told me if I don’t immediately agree to her stopping by when she suggests it.

Well, I do.

And thank you for assuming that my house is gonna be a mess.

“I don’t mind if you’re sick,” the “friend” told me earlier this year when I explained why I wasn’t up for company after she informed me she was coming over. “I want to get out for a while.”

Um, I mind. My snotty, feels like shit, still in pajamas, hasn’t had time to clean the house self minds. It took quite a bit of effort to convince her that she wasn’t coming over, too.

I got especially irritated over the weekend. My brother messaged me saying he was going to come over. He didn’t ask, he told. Grr. I let him know that we weren’t going to be home (a lie). Well, he called my bluff and came over anyway.

Not cool, bro, not cool at all. And for that you get me not putting a bra back on. So there.

Are you cool with people stopping by whenever? Or are you like me, the curmudgeon who wants a life size Gandalf on her porch that bellows, “You shall not pass!” What are some of your pet peeves?