Wednesday, February 01, 2012

Righting the Wrongs of the World


My husband frequently accused me of trying to right the wrongs of the world.  He swears this is someday going to cause me to have a stroke or a brain aneurism or cause my eyeballs to just pop out of my head and land on the ground as my head explodes, and he may be right, but in the midst of all that happening, by damned, I will be fixing something that is drastically wrong with society.  So it will be totally worth it.

Lemme just give you an example.  Or twelve.

We’ll start small.  What happened to the words ‘thank you’?  Where did those words go?  Because I’ma just gonna say right now that if I hold the door open for one more entitled jerk who refuses to say thank you to me, I’m going to be forced to do a quick rewind of the entire scene and, instead of holding the door, this time, I’m going to do a quick-time door-slam-whammo-in-yo-face response.  Because I’m angry like that.  And yes, I know there are support groups, but I feel like I can work through my anger in more productive ways.  Like face-slamming the buttheads of the world.  Whew!  I feel better already.

Next, let’s move on to something a little larger scale.  When I am driving somewhere on the road, chances are I have a pretty good idea of where I want to go.  (Well, usually anyway, unless I’m just out driving aimlessly around, in which case it’s best to stay out of my way, because I probably forgot to take my meds or my kids drove me to insanity.  Or both.  Either way, just move.  Whatever.)  Anyway, I have a semi-coherent plan, which means that I know somewhat in advance when I plan to turn.  This means that if I suddenly dart in front of another moving car only to suddenly slam on my brakes and turn signal all at once, this makes me either a) an asshole or b) an incompetent driver.  Neither of these types of people should be in control of a moving vehicle.  If you do this to me on the road again, I will be sorely tempted to ram you from behind with my little Hyundai rat trap and pray that my airbag covers up the sound of my maniacal laughter, mmmm kay?

While we’re at it, here’s a little tidbit for the elevator cretins out there.  You know that panel with all the little buttons on it?  Yeah, when you see the doors clamping shut on someone’s leg and threatening to chop it off at the kneecap, you can push one of those little button thingies and get the magic elevator doors to open right back up.  Yep, I know it seems impossible, but it’s true.  So next time, instead of standing clutching your lunch trays like someone might steal them, you could reach out and push the little button (the one with the arrows pointing out, you know, signifying ‘open’), and that will allow the clamping metal jaws to release their prisoner and allow blood flow to once again circulate through the leg.  Yay, you!  You may have to take your eyes off of your cookie for a second, but you just played paramedic.

I don’t want to overwhelm anyone, so just a few more really quick tips for today.  If you clip your nails at the office, stop it.  That is disgusting.  I don’t go over to your cube and loofah the dry skin off of my feet, so I better not see your nasty nail clippings flying through the air.

If you are hungry enough to scrape your yogurt container for a full minute after it is empty, then for the love of all that is holy, please bring an extra snack.  I will even buy you a snack.  Really.  Want some nuts?  Protein bar?  Stop scraping the plastic spoon on the plastic container!  (I seriously want to take that plastic spoon, carve it down, and shank you.  I know that’s wrong, and I’m trying to work through that, but you are going to need to do your part to help me work through this by, oh I dunno, maybe not grating a plastic spoon across my cerebral membrane every single morning.)

Also, I’ve mentioned this before, but if you are the person leaving the butt paper behind on the toilet, you are going to eventually contract some horrible ass & mouth disease, and you will be forever plagued with germs that make you itch in unmentionable places for the rest of eternity because that is what happens to people who leave their butt paper behind for other people to flush.  That’s karma, and it itches.

So yeah, I might be accused of trying to right all the wrongs of the world, but it’s gotta start somewhere, people.  And I’m making a stand.  It’s going to start right here.  Right now.  Please.  Thank you.  Flush your butt paper.  Use your blinkers.  Don’t fling your fingernails at people.  There.  We can now all live in a civilized society.

Amen.  Where are my meds?  (What anger issues?)

No comments: