First, let me say that yesterday was my official one year blogiversary, and I am so pumped about this. It’s a new start! A new year! And in the spirit of New Year’s traditions, I’ve even made a resolution. And here it is: I’m gonna start blogging on Mondays and Thursdays again, like I did last year. A boring resolution, I’m aware, but this summer—in spite of its pure gloriousness—totally killed my motivation. So I’ve got to find it again. And for the local peeps: if you’d like to help me out by harassing me in public if I forget to blog, your heckling would be appreciated.
But it you heckle me for any other reason, I’ll beat you up. Just ask my little sister. Pretty sure I could still take her down by sitting on her and tickling her until she cries.
(Side note: I hope she’s not reading this, ‘cause she might hurt me.)
Anyway.
I was in a good mood the other day, just walking into a store behind a guy who looked to be about, oh, tenish years younger than me (which would put him about nineteen or so). So, he reached the door before me, and I stepped back to wait for him to usher me inside. But instead…wham! He walked inside and the door slammed in my face. And I just stood there, looking at his disappearing back, looking at the door, feeling my indignation rise and my mouth drop. And I yanked the door open and walked inside, my good mood gone for a second.
Hey—I’m all for women’s rights. The right to work, vote…and…and…all the other stuff women are supposed to be for. But men—all two of you reading this—if you reach the door before me, for the love of all things holy, please hold it open. It’s basic courtesy. Manners. Something your Momma shoulda taught you. Plus, if you’re a single guy, women find it totally hot. Which should give you the motivation right there to do it.
Anyway, so this got me thinking about my pet peeves. I like to think of myself as a pretty laid back girl, but there are a few things that get on my nerves. And under my skin, nails, and hair, so deep that I just can’t get them out, no matter how hard I try. Some are new, some have been there my whole life. Some I’m not proud of, others I want to scream at the world to stop doing them for heaven’s sake! And here they are, in no particular order.
1. The word “Goop.” Please don’t say this in front of me. If you do, I can only assume you hate me.
2. The word “Totes.” Short for “totally.” My kids use it, but I don’t get it. And yes, I realize I am the girl who used to say “Gag me with a spoon” on a regular basis. But that was totally different. Totes different. Gag me.
3. Toys left in the living room floor. I’m not the most graceful person, so you get the picture.
4. Wet towels left on a clean bed. To my child-who-shall-remain-nameless: You know I’m talking about you.
5. A sigh and an eye roll from random clerk when I ask, “Can you help me find the…?”
6. Toenail polish. It’s pretty. It’s necessary in summer. But mine is almost always chipped. And I am known for my laziness.
7. Allergies, and the sneezing that comes with them. Why? Why?? When I get to heaven, it’s one of the questions on my list.
8. The phrase, “…and stuff like that.” I don’t know why the bugs me, my kids think I’m weird for it. But it drives me nuts.
9. Semi-trucks that drive side-by-side on the highway.
10. Cars that go 40mph in the passing lane.
11. Cups that are too large for cupholders.
12. Waterproof mascara, because it stays on for days.
13. Flyaway hair in winter.
14. Static in clothes when I forget the dryer sheet.
15. Tans that fade by Labor Day.
So that’s about it. At least, that’s about all that I’ll share right now. Or ever. Because I don’t want to be all negative and gripey and complaining and stuff like that…
Oops.
Have a great week! And feel free to share your peeves with me. It’s a safe zone here; no one will ever know.
Amy