Folks, I have to be honest. I'm struggling here. I think I am well and truly over blogging. It's become a chore. An item on my to do list. And I'm pretty sure that's not what I intended when I started this thing. Part of me wants to officially call it. Time of death: October 2011. But the other part of me wonders if I'll get the taste for it again and then I'll just look like the foolish dramatic girl who can't make up her mind. So while I stew on whether or not this post will be the final nail in the Nutshell coffin...please enjoy this sampling of what goes on in my bitter, cynical little brain.
I'll have a tall skinny mochachino please.I recently did my annual knickers shopping spree and noticed that the color assigned to one pair I picked out was "mochachino". Seriously? I really don't know how to feel about my intimate apparel having names that remind me of breakfast...or any other meal for that matter.
Shut up and drive.
I find that I always drive with the assumption that every other person on the road is an idiot. I'm rarely proved wrong.
What? You need an example? Fine.
Here are the fellow drivers I hate the most. You know when you're driving and one of the lanes is coming to an end (due to construction closures or whatever) and there are signs everywhere telling you the lane is ending and all the normal courteous drivers get in the lane that isn't ending and naturally that creates a bit of a backup but hey, that's life, get over it and while you're sitting there in your car a bunch of self-important jerks with no regard for others fly past you up to right where the lane actually ends and squeeze in ahead of everyone? I think there's a special circle of hell reserved for those people. And you know those idiots at the front of your not-ending lane who actually let the self-important jerks in? I might hate them even more.
OMG, I literally died.
Raise your hand if you've ever heard someone say something like "My heart was literally beating out of my chest." (No, it wasn't. If that happened, you'd literally be dead right now.) or "It literally took forever to get home from work today." (No, it didn't. If that were true, you'd literally still not be home yet.) or "There were literally a billion people at the mall on Saturday." (No, there weren't. That would be a fire hazard and also literally impossible.) I'm pretty sure these people literally don't know the literal meaning of the word literal. And that makes me angry.
Are you political-correctionally challenged?
Why do people think the correct term for all black people is African-American? Do those people have any idea how likely offensive that would be to a black person who (or whose ancestors) did not come from Africa, but instead from somewhere in the West Indies, like Jamaica, Grenada, Haiti or Trinidad and Tobego? It's like saying everyone who speaks Spanish is Mexican. Foolishness.
Do I hate it when people answer a question by asking themselves a question and answering it? Yes. Does it drive me crazy when they do this over and over as part of a series in order to make a comparison? Absolutely. Is there anything I can do about it? Unfortunately, no.
Give it up for DJ Dumbass on the ones and twos.
Can anyone tell me why radio dj's exist? Seriously. Hey dj's, guess what - YOU COULD EASILY BE REPLACED BY A $250 iPOD ON SHUFFLE. No one wants to hear their inane chatter between songs. STFU already and just play "Single Ladies" again. GOD.*
*This one is a direct copy and paste from a recently-discovered, long-forgotten drafted blog post that got lost over the years. It's like a study in anthropology because a) this was clearly written before I had the luxury of satellite radio and b) hello..."Single Ladies"! I'll take Irrelevant Pop Culture References for $500, Alex.