Like everything else in life, the things that bug you can change, because YOU change. I am no different. I just might have reached a level of maturity where little things don’t bother me. No... that’s not it. Other things just piss me off more. The peeves that drove me crazy a few years ago may have had on expiration date or perhaps I just found other instances of behavior from humans that seemed more important to try to do something about or maybe, just maybe, I have grown into a more laid back, less critical, more charitable Fifi who turns the other way when people do thoughtless acts. You pick one, I’m good with all of them, but that won’t stop me from venting about what is bugging the crap out of me right now.
Maybe I get easily irritated, but I also work conscientiously to try to make people aware of what is offensive. I try to do it in a kind way. You have to be gentle if you want to change things. Sometimes I wish I were from the South. I love the way Southerners can say something completely insulting while making it sound so endearing when it comes out of their mouths. They can look right at you and say the most hideous thing and end it with a twangy “bless your little heart”. It’s amazing and I wish I could get away with it, but have to have the drawl to get away with it.
Anyway, back to my personal torment. My peeves aren’t in any order and some of them have unfortunately stood the test of time and still annoy me years later.
Let’s begin with this one. I still think balding men with comb-overs are not attractive. I try not to stare when I see them, but I always imagine what their mornings must be like. How long must it take to whip their overgrown side hair into that unnatural hair pattern that attempts to cover up a bald head? Do they really think that a side part right above their ear and the 3 strands of hair over the top that are Aqua Nett-ed within an inch of their lives is fooling anyone? Guys, listen up. I would much rather kiss a sexy bald head than try to deal with one of those crazy comb-over messes.
Next, I believe that wearing sandals is a privilege, not a right. If you don’t have the time to take care of your feet, then you should cover them up. I am talking about men and women. I am honestly not crazy about men in sandals at all, unless you are going to the pool. And sandals with socks? Ugh… it would make me question other decisions a person might make.
While we are on the subject. I just don’t get women who wear these new super high crazy heels when they can’t walk in them. I see it all the time at the mall. I never understood why any woman would torture their feet in 5 inch heels to go shopping. These women may think they look sexy, but they are obviously not dedicated shoppers. While they are hobbling along in their “red carpet” footwear, I hit every store from one end to the other and get all the good stuff wearing my hot pink and lime green Pumas. I sprint from one bargain to another and make the sisterhood of shoppers proud. Could I have gotten my black belt in shopping if I chose to wear pole dancing shoes to Macy’s? Hell no!
As I get older, I realize that I must be more charitable in my judgments. I am lucky to have my readers so I can vent. You know, I really miss PMS. Now that I am past the menstrual years, I can no longer blame bitchy outbursts on hormones. I have to “woman up” and be responsible for what I say. I hate that. I really have a hard time with people who won’t eat outside their culture. I am not just talking about people from other countries. My cousins visited me from the Midwest. They told me they ate Mexican food so I took them to one of Los Angeles’ best Mexican restaurants. I will never forget their look of horror when the waiter was preparing our tableside guacamole. They wouldn’t even try it. I found out later that they had never had an avocado or real Mexican food. Taco Bell doesn’t count. Good grief, you can learn so much about other people by getting to know their cuisine. Being open minded about trying new dishes is a joy. I can guarantee you that my ass is living testament to my international taste buds and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
OK, one of my biggest pet peeves in life is cheap tippers. I never tip less than 15% and usually much more, even if the waiter or waitress was abominable. I have great respect for people who work on their feet all day and deal with cranky customers who want everything NOW. I am grateful that I don’t have to do their job and I show my appreciation for what I have in this life by tipping them anyway. After all, I didn’t have to get the food myself and I can live without the Thousand Island dressing I asked for 3 times and never got. I look at it as my own secret charity.
I think I have hit my “biggy” aggravations for the time being. It always makes me feel better to share these things with you. My readers are my own special anger management team and I love you for it. Think of all the money I save on psychiatrists because I have you. Oh yes, I am talking about you Bob, Marnie, Walt, Laine, Clover, Janice, Vaughn, Myrna and all of you who read me regularly. You keep me sane and give me the ability to know when it’s time to “get over it”. Thank you.
Goodbye for this week, but before I go, let me just mention that I am also bothered by drivers who don’t know how to merge or parallel park. It makes me crazy when babies cry in restaurants and their parents don’t take them outside and I HATE getting texts that LoOk RAndSom nOTeS or use lazy shortcuts like C U L8ter.
Whew! I feel fabulous! Until next time... Kiss Kiss.
