- Having to stop at a red light with a billion other cars, and then watch 1 car–one measly little car–cross the intersection. Really, dude? You have to hold everyone else up so you can cross? You couldn’t find another way to get around? You had to take 30 seconds out of my life so you could cross the intersection? Rude. (I also get mad when a pedestrian has to cross the street and I have to wait for them, but if I told you that you would think I was a bad person).
- Articles like this. I always see articles that are directed toward wives and how to make us better. How about an article about how to be a better husband? How about a rule like: “She works 40 hours a week too, so that means housework is 50% your responsibility as well. And she shouldn’t have to remind you.” Seriously. This women’s liberation movement just gave wives more shit to do. And how about another rule that goes: “If you had done it a week ago when she first asked nicely, she wouldn’t have to nag you.”
- Super loud sneezes. I’m not talking like an “ah-choo” kinda sneeze. I’m talking about freaking jet size noise on that scale that they use to measure noise. I have this one co-worker who sneezes SUPER loud. Like everyone in our department jumps. And you have to think: Really? Is that necessary? You can’t learn to sneeze a little softer? A sneeze is a sneeze, but it doesn’t have to feel like King Kong is attacking the cubicle next to you.
- Taking the stall next to me. There are 6 other EMPTY stalls and you have to take the stall RIGHT next to me? It’s bad enough I can’t do #2 if someone else is in the restroom, but now you have to take the stall right next to me? So I either have to pretend that I just finished and flush the toilet, or I have to wait until you’re done and leave and then you really know what I’m doing, OR there’s that awkward silence if you have to do #2 too and then we’re each staring at the other person’s shoes trying to see who’s gonna win the battle of waiting it out the longest. Because no I can not go #2 if you’re sitting there, next to me, waiting for the splash. TMI? Thanks for causing me stomach pains, dumbass.
- When celebrities complain about paparazzi. That’s like me winning the lottery and complaining that the water in my infinity pool isn’t warm enough. Here’s a tip, celebrities: You don’t want paparazzi chasing you? Don’t become a celebrity! Genius, right?
What’s irking you today?