Peeve is a funny word.
Also, I wonder if anyone in the world has a puppy actually named Peeve. Like, “Hey friends, good to see you, have you met my new pet, Peeve? He’s cute, right?”
It must be Friday. My brain is scrambled.
This week has been weird. I’ve tried to get back into my normal workout routine now that my legs are recovered post-marathon (yes, that took about a month, apparently), but my stomach isn’t on board with the “let’s move forward and do stuff” plan. It’s been really frustrating, and even though I’m taking the steroids like I’m supposed to and trying not to eat any remotely exciting foods that might irritate my stomach, I’m still dealing with lots of pain and sleepless nights.
So today, because I hardly slept last and woke up feeling completely miserable, I’m going to indulge my “OK fine, things aren’t always perfect” side and tell you a little bit about some of my pet peeves.
These are the things that piss me off to no end. That, to other people, are probably tiny little life details that are completely irrelevant, but to me they are game-changers, day-ruiners and mood-killers.
Here are a few things that drive me a little nuts:
Misuse of the word “infamous.” People! Infamous does not mean “really famous.” Not at all, in fact. Infamous means you are notoriously famous. Like, you did a bad thing, and now that’s what you’re know for. Your reputation sucks. You are infamous. To clarify: Britney Spears performed with a snake that time at the VMAs and it was awesome. Awesome. Then, when she shaved her head and whacked that car with an umbrella, that skewed her a bit more toward the infamous side. But I still think she’s great. Moving on.
People who clip their nails in public. That sound…the clipping…the nail pieces flying everywhere…oh it hurts to think about. I hate to say there is a man in my office who clips his nails and I can’t see him, but I can hear it, and I bug out every time. Nails should be clipped in the privacy of one’s own home. Not on public transportation. Not in an office setting. Certainly not anywhere food is present.
Absolutely everything about this scene (except the nice man in it, he can stay):
This little display was found in New Hampshire…in July. First of all, I do not like inflatable things. Secondly, really? A snowman? In July? And the sign is upside down. This just has no reason to exist.
People who don’t move all the way into the subway car. Yes, I am the girl who will yell, “Can you please move in?!” It’s like “Make Way For Ducklings,” only it’s the morning commute version of “Make way so Ali can get to work on time.”
People who are late. I hate waiting. Please on time, and if you’re going to be very late, please show up with wine and chocolate. And a puppy.
When the bus driver makes rest stops. I get it, the driver sometimes has to use the bathroom, and that’s fine. Story of my life. But that 20-minute delay at a rest stop, where the driver also smokes two cigarettes and everyone piles back on the bus with French fries? I could do without that. I’d like to arrive at my destination sooner.
When I get really excited about something I see and I tell the person I’m with to look and they don’t look or they miss it. For example: “Look at that lady on the other side of the street, in between those other nine people, with the thing and the hair and the outfit!” I get all worked up, and the person I’m with says, “Where?” And then the lady is gone. It’s sad when that happens.
Changing lightbulbs. I can’t bring myself to do it. I hate that squeaky sound the bulb makes when you unscrew it.
Excessive use of apostrophes. They aren’t always appropriate. As you can gather, many of my biggest annoyances are grammar-related.
When the masseuse wants to chat. I don’t want to be rude, but I also don’t want to talk. I want my muscles rubbed down.
Weak hand shakes and, even worse, weak high fives. When I go in for the handshake, I don’t mind if my hand bruises a little bit. More power to you. If your hand is all weak and nimbly, I’m not impressed.
Weak handshakes may be semi-forgivable, but weak high fives are not. A high five is a fantastic opportunity to share some enthusiasm and make a cool clapping sound with someone else.
High fives are on my list of favorite things in life (see also Celine Dion, jazz hands, leg warmers, the whipped cream part of the hot chocolate and puppies that have not yet figured out how to use their legs).
When people refer to their pets as their children. I get it, you love your animal. If I had a puppy, I would love the heck out of it. But I would probably also recognize that I didn’t actually give birth to it, and so it is not my child. I think people who have animals are owners, not parents, even if caring for an animal can be similar to caring for a child. Or teenager.
Having Crohn’s disease. Does this even count as a pet peeve? Yes, it does, because I am making the rules of this list.
And my biggest, most-likely-to-make-me-cringe-every-single-time pet peeve: Your vs. You’re. These words are not interchangeable. Ross said it best on “Friends” when he screamed at Rachel, “Y-o-u apostrophe r-e means you are, y-o-u-r means your!”
Also, it’s a good thing I live in a city where I don’t have to drive, because I have bad road rage. Not driving daily has made me a much calmer person. I have many driving-related pet peeves.
Lastly, because I don’t want this post to be all bitching-and-moaning, here is a photo that I like:
I WANT TO KNOW YOURS! What are your biggest pet peeves?