That's right, I be hatin'.
On what, you ask?
Nachos with not enough cheese. No one pays $12 for a $3 bag of tostitos with a side of never-enough sour cream. Cooks, you need to learn to layer that shit-- a handful of chips, a pile of shredded cheese, repeat, repeat, repeat.
People in McDonald's at 1am. This Saturday night, post friend's birthday party, the Duke and I hit up McD's. (Don't judge. I decided that 6 years was long enough to go without Chicken McNuggets. And it most definitely was.) And, of course, the place was full of drunk d-bags ordering cheeseburgers in a 6-pack, trying to pick up a table full of girls, and verbally abusing the staff. The best part is that they thought they were so goddamn hilarious that the kept on looking over their shoulder expectantly at us, looking confused as to why we were not laughing. Sorry, I don't find screaming "Fries fries fries!" at a 16 year old kid hysterical. I guess my sense of humour is a little more nuanced.
As a side note, where is it that people got the notion that alcohol comes along with a free asshole pass? Sure, alcohol does give a free pass to several things, such as teaching your co-workers how to rap, reminding the entire dance floor why the running man should have never gone out of style, eating your weekly caloric intake in poutine, or hugging the new BFF you met in the bathroom because her shoes were too damn awesome. But, frankly, alcohol has never made me want to unleash a tirade on a random stranger or humiliate a late night cashier. So, while the "I was drunk" excuse might work to how you woke up with a half-eaten bowl of ramen noodles snuggled up in bed beside you or why you are above the age of 18 with a hickey, it ain't gonna fly to explain sheer douchebaggery. That's not because you were drunk. It is because you were-- and are-- an asshole.
People who don't lock the restaurant bathroom door. And then you look like an inconsiderate jerk and have to apologize profusely when you walk in on them mid-pee.
Putting my duvet back in its cover. I'm more likely to end up tangled in there than my blanket is.
Girls who pretend to like hockey. So it's playoff season, and the city is all a-twitter with hockey excitement. Just the perfect time for the pseudo-hockey fans to come out of the woodwork. They are easy to spot at the bar, in their just-purchased team t-shirt, often that awful pink girlie one, to remind you "I like hockey. But I'm still a girl. Tee-hee." They chat throughout the whole game, looking uninterested, until a goal is scored- then they cheer like their lives depended on it, and try to catch the eyes of the guys around them. I have friends like this-- a game is on during the week, and they are clueless. They call me in the middle of overtime to chat. They don't know who won what game, or who scored a hat trick the night before. Yet, on Friday night, they are insistent on finding the best spot in town to watch the game, and they are talking to guys about how much they loooooove our team, spitting out facts that I told them earlier that night.
I know that the playoffs are good in getting new fans into the game, and that people are often eager to learn more about a popular sport-- and that's fine. But I just resent the pseudo-cache that people throw around, as though they are the "original" fans. There's nothing wrong with being a bandwagoner... just don't pretend to be otherwise.
People who don't understanding that working from home means that I'm working. I have one friend in particular who can't seem to understand how much self-directed work doing a PhD entails. She is constantly asking me what I'm doing now that I'm finished all my classes, as though I have nothing better to do than catch up on Seinfeld episodes. How ever many times I tell her seeing several clients, writing manuscripts, running participants, completing data analyses, having several meetings a week, non-class lectures, writing a massive dissertation, on top of my job, all she seems to take from this list that I have plenty of spare time since I do this from home a couple of days a week. So, whenever she wants to do something, she calls me at 3pm, when she gets off work. And no matter how many times I tell her that, even on the days I work from home, I am in front of the computer until *at least* 5pm, she gets annoyed that I won't meet up with her on her schedule. I've taken to lying and telling her that I'm in a meeting or a lecture until the evening, just so she takes my work seriously, because even telling her "major deadlines" doesn't seem to stop her from getting snappy when she thinks that I'm just sitting around at home when she is waiting around for me to finish working.
Wow, I'm a little bitter, aren't I? Is it any wonder rants is my #1 tag? Just to be fair, I also love the new Josh Ritter album, all you can eat sushi, cheesy nachos, freshly washed sheets, sunny days, boston terriers, key lime pie, It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia, and spending time with my friends after a hard day's work.
Oh, and an update- I also hate whoever the spilt an entire box of bran flakes in my apartment building stairway without cleaning it up.