Readers, I know what you are thinking. “Has Katty Pants forsaken us to go all Hallmark on our asses, and leave the rants to writers with blacker hearts and sharper tongues?” No need to fear, fellow haters. I may tear up at E.T. The Extra Terrestrial (I’m not made of stone), but I still have plenty of blackness in my soul, just waiting to spew forth from my mouth, er, fingertips.
Last week on the playground, one of the moms remarked how she hated Disney princesses. Another mom replied “should I add that to your list?” She opened her notebook to a page where she recorded items of detest for moms within the circle. The mom in question hated about seven things, and was considered to be the pessimist of the group. I mentally noted to never let them read my blog.
So here, in no particular order, are things I hate:
Backing in to park. Let me clarify that. If you have a valid reason to back in, such as loading a truck on moving day, more power to you. However, if there are three cars waiting for you to park at Safeway and you decide to back in to show off your superb parking skills, we are not going to be friends.
Talking on speaker phone. Again, valid reason, ok. Taking every call on speaker phone so that you have to speak at a volume loud enough to carry three rooms over, dick move.
Those Real Housewives shows. Seriously, who watches those? Ditto, Kardashiens. This is coming from a person who watches way too much OWN network. At least I can play that off as being somewhat educational. Ok, maybe not.
Personalized licensed plates.
When people respond with “just smiling” when someone says “hi.”
In my twenties, I managed a Sunglass Hut. When people wandered in the store, I asked the obligatory “can I help you find something?” At least three times a day, someone would respond “do you have any sunglasses?” These people also backed their cars in- correction, trucks. People who back in drive trucks.
Women who eat a bite of dessert and then say “I can’t have any more. It’s too rich.” That will NEVER happen to me.
Leggings worn as pants. Leggings are not pants. Call them jeggings, or tweggings, or any other stupid name- they are not pants and we don’t need to see the exact outline of your ass.
Cutoff shorts cropped to the point that the pockets are hanging out the bottom.
The American flag in any format other than a flag. Have some respect.
Moon dough. Ditto Play Pâté.
Parents riding their bikes without wearing helmets, right next to the kid they are insisting wear a helmet.
The term “Green.” I am all for being green. I’m just sick of hearing about it every five seconds.
Celebrities, models, etc. confessing to being the outcast in high school. For that matter, the fact that everybody is now an outcast. We are a population of misunderstood loners. Pretty soon being a cheerleader will entail sitting under the bleachers and smoking cigarettes while listening to The Smiths.
Actors saying they are just trying to “master their craft.” Unless your knitting a sweater on the set, enough of the craft talk already.
The word “moist.” Just sounds gross.
Um. Ok, my kid is refusing to nap, so back to parenting duty. For the record, I also hate kids not napping. Ingrates.