The OFFICIAL Unofficial Achewood Message Board
Trivial Pursuits => Wild Card => Topic started by: dejavroom on October 22, 2009, 04:53:43 pm
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[Thread title must be read as if said by a quail speeding out in the distance]
- People who sigh too loud, I swear to God. Whatever's eating you is not important to me, whiney person (it's a very localized peeve: There's a co-worker who's constantly doing this right by my side).
- Loud people on the bus, and loud people in general
*slinks off fearing the next entry will be "Jerks who forget to search for old threads where a subject might have been broached already"*
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Passengers in my car who make phone calls. It's one thing if you get a call and can't get off, but I hate it when somebody gets in my car then immediately dials their phone. So now have to turn down my music and listen to your half of a conversation for the rest of the ride. Great.
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Companies that still send bills in the mail and except you to mail them back a check. What century are we living in here?
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Companies that still send bills in the mail and except you to mail them back a check. What century are we living in here?
I'm not sure about you, but I'm living in the 18th.
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Bank customer "service" operations that never give you the same person twice, causing your to have to repeat your sob story over, and over, and over, and over...
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Oh, that reminds me... the kind of customer service where you call, and the machine asks you to punch in your account number and all kinds of other crap, and then when the human finally answers, they ask you for the account number and crap all over again. It makes me want to SCREAM.
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All of the above, plus:
* People clipping their fingernails at their desk (that little *clink!clink* is just grating in a work setting)
* People who call or stop by my cube at work and tell me something they need me to do right away without asking if I'm in the middle of anything else and then leave before I can tell them that their need basically has to go to the bottom of my list.
Amended to add:
* People who look at me blankly and complain that the printer not printing two-sided and hasn't for a month, and they have let their supervisor know that I need to fix it, while in the meantime everyone else has been printing two-sided just fine, and plus I'M NOT THE DAMN PRINTER FAIRY or EVEN TECHNICAL SUPPORT;
* People. In general.
Yeah, I'm having a rare crabby day. I need a hug.
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* People clipping their fingernails at their desk (that little *clink!clink* is just grating in a work setting)
Oh LORD that dredged up a horrible memory. I was sitting in my office one day when I heard that tell-tale noise. I walked around the corner to confront the offender and he was sitting in his cube, CLIPPING. HIS. TOENAILS.
Holy crap. Holy, holy, crap.
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Oh LORD that dredged up a horrible memory. I was sitting in my office one day when I heard that tell-tale noise. I walked around the corner to confront the offender and he was sitting in his cube, CLIPPING. HIS. TOENAILS.
Holy crap. Holy, holy, crap.
At least he wasn't biting them off.
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All of the above, plus:
* People clipping their fingernails at their desk (that little *clink!clink* is just grating in a work setting)
Two of my coworkers just started doing this. I think they share a pair of clippers. I will allow for emergency nail maintenance but doing a whole hand is just a dick move.
Of course one of them is the same woman who applauds things on her computer and says things like, "oh that is too much" at full volume even when nobody is around.
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People on the bus who think their bag is more worthy of a seat than a human being standing in the isle.
People who rake the leaves from their lawns into the street instead of cleaning them up themselves. (These are people who, unlike me, do not have a gutter drain in front of their own house, and I suppose don't understand that the leaves are not taken away by a magical gutter fairy. The leaves are then rinsed by rain and/or melting snow to the drain in front of my house, where they clog and block the drain, leaving a massive wet, rotting mound of leaves + Burger King packaging + used syringes + garbage + cat and dog feces. Even better is when this happens when my husband or I are not at home, and then a well meaning neighbour comes by to unclog the gutter and scoops a huge mound of soggy, rotting leaves, garbage and shit onto our boulevard.
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We do have magical gutter fairies that come around a couple times each fall and take the piles of leaves. So it's not an unreasonable hope. It is sad that they never show up for you.
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white power assholes
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You can have my untracked assets when you pry them...etc etc.
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I have the same problem as smells.
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white power assholes
I bet that white power assholes have pretty much the same pet peeves as the rest of us. except for that one.
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I don't know if any of these are pet peeves, because they are all reasonable things.
my pet peeve is when people say "my pet peeve is ______" and it's something stupid, and they expect you to change your behavior because of their "pet peeve."
My high school girlfriend once told me that something I did while driving was her "pet peeve" and called me a jerk for refusing to change it. Kind of made me want to drop her off on the side of the road and tell her to walk home.
I guess my pet peeve, actually, is when people make comments about my driving while I am driving. I absolutely LOSE MY SHIT when people criticize my driving. I am a cautious driver. I'm going to take as long to make this left turn as I fuck*ng want, and the more you talk to me, the longer it's going to take. If I try to be less cautious, I end up overcompensating and YOU WILL DIE IN A CAR CRASH. I have attention problems, and yes, I'm going to turn off the music and make you stop talking while I turn left at this red light. Shut up.
On my first date with my (girlfriend?) we almost got in a car accident because I talked to her while I was trying to turn left. I get very distracted. It's a good thing we were on a tiny road and the other guy was going like... 20 mph. He honked at me and made a "WTF, I am the only car on the road and you turned right in front of me" face.
oh, also, her sister was in the car. her sister who hates me and called me a neandertal.
The only time I have yelled at my roommate is when he pulled that shit.
And then a day later when a carfull of drunk yelling people tried to tell me how to parallel park. "GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY CAR AND SHUT THE FUCK UP."
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I have the same problem as smells.
I know! What the hell! Wombats post makes me wonder -- I guess there actually are places in the word where gutter faeries (aka street workers?) clear away leaves? That is not how it rolls in my city, and infact, every year there is always a news story about how it is illegal to sweep leaves and/or other debris into the street. My street is extremely narrow, with a parking lane on the side my house is on, so even if magical gutter faeries came to clean the leaves, most of the debris would be unaccessible to anyone but the smallest of the under-the-vehicle sized faeries. Considering the city is happy to ignore my neighbourhood all together, including far more serious problems, I doubt this is even on the radar.
The best thing was that yesterday neighbourhood kids were going door to door offering to rake people's yards for pay, and were raking everything into the street. People were actually paying children to clog the sewer drain-offs. Sigh.
Far worse is when the snow comes, and the caked frozen rotten debris is then covered by a two inch thick layer of ice, which is inevitably covered by a lake of melted snow and ice that spreads across the entire width of the street, unable to drain off. If left, the lake of ice is deep enough to submerge car tires 1-3 inches, freeze up and cause all hell to break loose. Or, you know, it's -30C out and people walking past get splashed with a wave of ice/slush/rot. Or my SO or I get splashed WHILE trying to address the problem.
I've had to go out for hours and hack away at the ice, then break up and clear the frozen debris gunk, only to have more debris instantly clog it again. This goes on in a cyclical, unending pattern all winter.
Apologies for the bitch fest. This is a major annoyance of mine.
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Set alll the leaves on fire when you still have the chance. And then burn your neighbors' rakes so the leaves will stay in the yard where they don't do much damage.
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Further elaboration of her problem
Well I don't have any of those problems. I just have to scoop up other folks yard clippings. But I'll say it mostly comes from the hired yard guys that blow the shit into the street with their leaf blowers.
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We really do have leaf fairies. They go around twice every fall putting up a notice that they are coming within the next week, and everyone rakes the leaves into the street, and one day they are gone.
I wonder if they do that in other parts of your city, or they used to do it in your neighborhood. So everyone has this ritual of raking leaves in the street and has forgotten that the original reason for doing it is gone. Maybe it is a sacrifice to the leaf fairies in the hopes that they will come back.
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I just run the mower over mine. If I'm feeling really ambitious I rake 'em over one of the garden plots for mulch.
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See, we save our leaves for the composter, so I have another reason to abhore those people putting their leaves to waste.
Also, my dog found a nearly complete slice of pizza hidden under some leaves on a walk recently. He was all "jackpot!" and I was all "No! No!" which only makes him chew faster.
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Speaking of shit that dogs find while out and about, my pet peeve is people who drop used tampons in alleys for me to subsequently pry from my friend's dog's mouth as I was walking him
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See the disgusting fact there is that cats and other animals could be tearing into garbage bags to get at these things, then tossing them intot the street when they realize they are inedible. There is a reason why all the garbage cans in my house have closing lids you see.
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Hey, you haven't lived until you've had your little dog wolf down a hot dog without chewing it and subsequently had to help the poor little guy when it comes out the other end intact.
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Sorry folks: The field for funniest dog shit story is closed.
Asherdan is the winner.
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hence "pet" peeves
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See, I was going to tell a dog shit story... no I will anyway. I am a late entry, so feel free to disqualify me.
Shortly after we adopted him, we discovered Mortimer had fleas. Due to the recent administration of a heart worm pill, the vet advised us to wait a week before we started treatment for the fleas. Morty looked at me with this terribly sad expression, and he was so obviously uncomfortable with itches. There were fleas all over him, jumping around, having a party on my poor dog. Also, I wasn't particularly interested in comforting Morty, being that he was covered in fleas and not all that appealing to cuddle at that point, so he was quite depressed that the human he had recently fallen in love with didn't seem to like him any more.
The discovery of the fleas occurred two days before I was to participate in the Three Day Novel Competition (which is, needless to say, where you write a novel in three days), which I had be preparing for for months. This was hopefully not a problem, since my husband had agreed to take care of the dog while I wrote. Then the day before the competition, my husband came home sick with what we later found out was HINI, and which over the course of the weekend progressed to pneumonia. He muttered don't worry – I'll still take care of the dog. Write your novel before passing out for eight hours of fitful fevered sleep.
So I tried to write my novel. I wrote, starting right at midnight. I wrote and wrote, straight through the first night, and through the day. I was worrying about my husband (still sick, but alive) and dog (still itchy and depressed, but otherwise okay). I kept the door shut on the office and checked on them during a few planned breaks I took. I had planned to sleep that evening, so on a break, I woke my husband up and asked if he was too sick to walk the dog. He said he would be fine, and staggered out the door.
I returned to writing for a few more hours, and at midnight, after writing for 24 hours (less two 15 min and one half hour break – timed) I staggered to bed ready to sleep, and my husband also, getting much sicker, staggered to bed after having walked Morty and put him in his crate for the night.
We both lay down, and Morty started to whimper in his crate down stairs. I yelled at him to be quiet, and he would for a bit, then he would start up again. My husband would yell at him, he would stop, then he'd cry some more. Both my husband and I were delirious from our differing reasons for exhaustion, so we muttered to each other about the stupid fleas we assumed were causing him to whimper, and yelled at the dog to shut up, and this situation ran through the six hour window of sleep I afforded myself. The dog was still whimpering when my alarm clock went off at 6am, and I went back to my office, closed the door, and tried to write some more.
My husband, meanwhile, got up to give the dog a morning walk, and in my office, with a floor between us and a closed office door I heard the swearing, which I attempted to ignore until I could ignore it no longer.
Seems the dog had had explosive, liquid diarrhea all over his crate, then been left to baste in it over night. There was my flea riddled shit-covered dog, with his shitty paw prints everywhere, and his shit filled bed, sitting next to my sickly husband. They both looked terrible, and terribly in need of my care. I said as much, but my husband insisted I go back to writing, and that he would never forgive himself if his illness caused me to quite the competition.
So I tried to go back to writing, but all I could think about was my very sick husband and my very sick, flea riddled dog. I was plaguedwith guilt – for not helping my husband and for leaving the dog to baste in his own excrement as he cried and cried to us for help. I tried to ignore the sounds of my husband trying to clean up the house and dog, but it was all I could hear, all I could think about.
I was too exhausted to focus due to lack of sleep, and I simply couldn't write anymore. I was certain I needed to give up. I went downstairs, crying like a baby, to tell my husband this, but he refuse to hear it, and insisted I take a nap and get back to work.
I took my nap, and when I awoke, I read the unreadable, nihilistic crap I'd written, and knew it was over. I had not written a novel, I had no chance of saving what I had done, and I had no time to start over. I was totally at peace with this, and told my husband so. He still didn't want me to give up and was worried I'd later blame him for this due to how worried I was about his illness. I insisted this was not the case, and that I was quitting due to exhaustion, not him.
A couple days later, I mentioned I was worried that on top of adopting a dog with fleas, we may have adopted a dog with serious intestinal problems. My husband assured me there was nothing to worry about. He admitted to me that while walking the dog that night, in his sickly delirium, he failed to notice the dog eating cheese covered jalapeños until after he’d eaten several. We live down the street from a Burger King, and the “Angry Whopper” was on special.
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This thread has resembled TOUAMB of old.
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Thank you horrible troll, wherever you are.
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Hopefully in troll hell, where everybody is nice to each other and you are trapped inside the body of a very polite waiter.