I've Been Tagged!
Well, I was kind of wondering how one gets tagged with a meme, since it occurred to me that it might have actually happened to me and maybe I didn't know it and am guilty of some horrible breach of blogosphere etiquette.
Turns out I'm not. Never been tagged to my knowledge. Until today! Sweet Bezzie has tagged me, coincidentally too because it was her last post that made me wonder what that tagging was all about. And now I know!
So, Six Things That Piss Me Off, In No Particular Order
1. Bad spelling and grammar, even if it's done on purpose. I hate reading e-mails, board posts, and blog entries in which the author refuses to capitalize or use some sort of punctuation. My daughter's Brownie troop leader is the worst offender at the moment. I don't think she knows where the period is located on the keyboard. And have you ever read Rosie O'Donnell's blog? All lowercase, no punctuation. It's like haiku. And haiku is stupid. Except when it's supposed to be funny. Or when it's about Peeps.
2. People who know everything and won't hesitate to let you know that they know everything. It's annoying when they actually are expert in a particular area (like the choir member who is a music teacher and really does know his shit when it comes to music theory and doesn't miss an opportunity to tell us when we're doing something wrong), but it's worse when they don't have a clue, but are just making shit up as they go along.
3. It pisses me off to call a number for customer service--listen up Trend Micro!--only to be put on hold for 40 minutes. And when you do get through to Bangalore, you spend another hour and a half on the phone trying to explain that you already reinstalled the software and it didn't help the problem!
4. I hate the fact that no one can seem to help me make my updated virus scan software run as well as it did before I paid for an upgrade. See number three.
5. It pisses me off that I am the only person in this house that can open a box or bag without destroying it. (I should have taken a picture of the cereal box this morning. Unbelievable.) I can excuse the kids. They're little. But DH should know that if you just take five seconds you can carefully pry the glue loose on the top flap without tearing said flap in two or three pieces so they never close again. Or that there's a perforated section of garbage bag box that pops out neatly so that the bags dispense one by one. You don't have to rip the end of the box open and pull out the entire roll every time you want one. Or that there's a handy little device called a letter opener that will neatly slit an envelope open so that you might save said envelope to contain it's...well, contents for a later date. Hell, a butter knife will do in a pinch.
6. The people who live up the far end of the street piss me off. Not the people on the near end. Terry and her mom are lovely people. Terry owns a custom sewing business and does lovely heirloom work, and she teaches sewing lessons. Father Albert is a blessing and a Godsend and we love him ever so much. Then there's Sister and Baboo and Grandpa and Grammie--no complaints there. And Jack is quiet and keeps to himself. He's had a hard row to hoe since he lost his wife, but I think each day brings healing in its own way.
The folks across the street are borderline. I like the parents...they're good folks. And the older daughter is in college, so nothing to complain about there. But their son does the whole "drive fast, take chances, I'm a teenager" thing all the time. The corner coming onto our street is blind and he takes it too fast and like he owns it. He's going to cause an accident one of these days, you mark my words.
And if you head up the street past our house, it just goes from bad to worse. It's not bad in the winter because we have our doors and windows shut tight, but in the warm weather it seems we are all to be subjected to whatever merriment they feel like getting up to. Fireworks at any and all hours of the night, a kid practicing his electric guitar: the four chords he knows, that is. Loud music, louder cars and motorcycles. I'd like to put a fence up right behind our house on the property line.
That's all.
Now I think I'm supposed to tag someone else with this. How about the first one to respond to this that hasn't already done this one has to do it? Does that work?
Mail just came. No yarn yet. Rats.
Turns out I'm not. Never been tagged to my knowledge. Until today! Sweet Bezzie has tagged me, coincidentally too because it was her last post that made me wonder what that tagging was all about. And now I know!
So, Six Things That Piss Me Off, In No Particular Order
1. Bad spelling and grammar, even if it's done on purpose. I hate reading e-mails, board posts, and blog entries in which the author refuses to capitalize or use some sort of punctuation. My daughter's Brownie troop leader is the worst offender at the moment. I don't think she knows where the period is located on the keyboard. And have you ever read Rosie O'Donnell's blog? All lowercase, no punctuation. It's like haiku. And haiku is stupid. Except when it's supposed to be funny. Or when it's about Peeps.
2. People who know everything and won't hesitate to let you know that they know everything. It's annoying when they actually are expert in a particular area (like the choir member who is a music teacher and really does know his shit when it comes to music theory and doesn't miss an opportunity to tell us when we're doing something wrong), but it's worse when they don't have a clue, but are just making shit up as they go along.
3. It pisses me off to call a number for customer service--listen up Trend Micro!--only to be put on hold for 40 minutes. And when you do get through to Bangalore, you spend another hour and a half on the phone trying to explain that you already reinstalled the software and it didn't help the problem!
4. I hate the fact that no one can seem to help me make my updated virus scan software run as well as it did before I paid for an upgrade. See number three.
5. It pisses me off that I am the only person in this house that can open a box or bag without destroying it. (I should have taken a picture of the cereal box this morning. Unbelievable.) I can excuse the kids. They're little. But DH should know that if you just take five seconds you can carefully pry the glue loose on the top flap without tearing said flap in two or three pieces so they never close again. Or that there's a perforated section of garbage bag box that pops out neatly so that the bags dispense one by one. You don't have to rip the end of the box open and pull out the entire roll every time you want one. Or that there's a handy little device called a letter opener that will neatly slit an envelope open so that you might save said envelope to contain it's...well, contents for a later date. Hell, a butter knife will do in a pinch.
6. The people who live up the far end of the street piss me off. Not the people on the near end. Terry and her mom are lovely people. Terry owns a custom sewing business and does lovely heirloom work, and she teaches sewing lessons. Father Albert is a blessing and a Godsend and we love him ever so much. Then there's Sister and Baboo and Grandpa and Grammie--no complaints there. And Jack is quiet and keeps to himself. He's had a hard row to hoe since he lost his wife, but I think each day brings healing in its own way.
The folks across the street are borderline. I like the parents...they're good folks. And the older daughter is in college, so nothing to complain about there. But their son does the whole "drive fast, take chances, I'm a teenager" thing all the time. The corner coming onto our street is blind and he takes it too fast and like he owns it. He's going to cause an accident one of these days, you mark my words.
And if you head up the street past our house, it just goes from bad to worse. It's not bad in the winter because we have our doors and windows shut tight, but in the warm weather it seems we are all to be subjected to whatever merriment they feel like getting up to. Fireworks at any and all hours of the night, a kid practicing his electric guitar: the four chords he knows, that is. Loud music, louder cars and motorcycles. I'd like to put a fence up right behind our house on the property line.
That's all.
Now I think I'm supposed to tag someone else with this. How about the first one to respond to this that hasn't already done this one has to do it? Does that work?
Mail just came. No yarn yet. Rats.
posted by Poops | 4:37 PM
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