I’ve realized that I have quite a few characteristics that probably annoy other people to death. I get so frustrated at the strangest and most petty things when it comes to dealing with people sometimes, and then I realized – hey, I probably drive half the world crazy, too. If I had to post a singles-type ad that prepares people for what to expect when dealing with me, it would go something like this:
Unless I want to get rip-roaring drunk, let’s just assume that I’ll drive. No, your desire or interest in driving does not interest me. I like to drive, it makes me feel in control and I like to listen to my own music. I hope that works for you. If not, you’ll be the first person I call when I want to get hammered and need a ride home.
I have really sensitive teeth that hurt every time I eat something extremely sweet, or drink something really cold. No, I won’t stop eating or drinking the things I love. I’ll just complain about my sensitive teeth every single time I eat or drink it. At least I use Sensodyne toothpaste, so you can’t tell me I’m doing nothing about it.
I talk to myself. This is especially true if I am trying to figure something out, I’m confused or I’m just trying to organize my thoughts. I also make strange noises. Most resemble that of an animal, or dinosaur. You don’t really have to respond, just don’t stare.
Correcting your grammar gets me off. Since I am in no way, shape or form utilizing my English degree, I feel the need to impart knowledge on all unsuspecting individuals who misuse “your/you’re” and “they’re/there/their.” If you don’t like this, either learn the correct versions, or stop talking to me. Both are fine with me.
In any movie with tragedy, or even in any real life situation where an animal is involved, my initial reaction is to say, “OMG, did the dog die?” Sure, I guess it shows my lack of compassion towards human nature. I prefer to just think of myself as a PETA activist who still eats meat. I realize the irony. I’m not asking you to comment on it.
My text messages merit a response. What you choose to do with other messages from friends, relatives or Jesus Christ is up to you. However, if I ask you something or make a comment on something, a response is preferred.
I’m a firm believer that 99% of the people on the road are piss poor drivers, except for me. While I admit to driving like a bat out of hell, I’ll also stand by the idea that I’m damn good at it.
I’m independent to a fault. I do what I want, and if that involves doing it alone, then so be it. That being said, I love being around people and too much solitude freaks me out.
I’m constantly moving something on my body. Even when I’m lying around watching television, I’m moving my strange double-jointed toes or flipping my feet to the beat of whatever music is on. If you’re laying in bed with me, this will drive you up a wall. Sorry.
I truly think that indifference is the best way to piss someone off. Most people want nothing more than to get a rise out of you. Being indifferent makes them crazy. It also makes ME crazy.
If I don’t care about what you’re telling me, I won’t pretend to. I pride myself on not wasting other people’s time unless they voluntarily ask for it, so I’d like you not to do the same to me.
I hate being asked petty and unimportant questions, especially more than once. This is why I moved out of my parents’ house.
While judging strangers is only natural (and fun), I find it ridiculous that people waste so much time thinking about or judging other people who don’t give a damn about them. For every finger you point at someone, you have three (or four, depending on how you point) pointing right back at your pretty little perfect face. Think about how much time you could spend bettering yourself and those around you if you quit focusing on everyone else’s flaws.
I’m politically incorrect. And blunt. The two combined will either make you hate me, or cause me to be your primary source of entertainment. Or both.
I swear. A lot. Yes, I’m still classy. If you can’t handle me dropping “fuck” in between every other sentence, then don’t let me teach a Sunday school class at your church. mmmmk?
I am destined to be both my grandmother and my father. If you know either of them, you know that this idea is both incredibly frightening, and totally kickass.
I just feel like these are things people need to know about me. The best thing we can learn to do is acknowledge our flaws, and that we aren’t perfect. I acknowledge mine – and while I’ve tried to limit a lot of it, I refuse to change who I am.
This post was totally unnecessary, but I make no apologies.