Around 1 a.m., chatter from a nearby somewhere woke me out of my “It’s been a really long week so I passed out at 8” sleep. Was it coming from the roof? The downstairs apartment? Who was the culprit of this deep-voiced, apparently never-ending monologue?
As I adjusted my ear-plugs and attempted a forcible return to my interrupted dream, a sudden and swift scent of skunk infiltrated my room. Joy.
I got up, grabbed my trusted spiced cake room spray (from Pier 1!) and laid back down. Alas, I wasn’t fast enough — and the skunk cut through the smell once more.
Eventually, I returned to my peaceful land of dreams…with no thanks to my ever-loud collegiate neighbors.
While grumbling to myself in the middle of the night (for the second weekend in a row!), I decided to create a short listing of my most-irritating pet peeves. So, here goes!
Sharing your bodily fluids with me. Unprompted.
Yeah, sneezing and coughing are natural occurrences. I get it. Better out than in, right? Right…unless you don’t cover your face. Haven’t you seen those graphics about how far your germs can travel? And you know where they’ll travel? Right to me. And attack my uber-crappy immune system. And a few days later, guess who else will be hacking and using all the tissues around? Yup.
Assuming that I will change my mind about birthing little humans.
Whether or not I eventually create a little Kathleen or two in the future is completely my decision. Telling me that I’ll one day morph into a child-lover once I meet my Mister-Me is unfair and not your place. Sure, maybe I’ll have a complete personality transformation and decide, “Yep! Time to pass along my awkward genes to another unsuspecting person!” but please don’t force that on me. Or the potential future human.
Ignoring me in bars because I look 19. Or maybe 17.
Hello, bartender! See me over here? The girl who has been hovering at your bar trying to get your attention for what feels like days? I’m holding my cash or card and have been eye-balling you. Yes? You see me? Oh, you’re not going to come over/handle everyone else with the beer needs first before barking for my ID? I can’t tell you how often this happens. Unless I have a stamp on my hand proving my mid20dom, it’s a true pain trying to get a drink. Baby-face also of course applies to the rest of my life, but I find myself dealing with it the most when trying to secure a pretty craft.
Operating a moving vehicle. In Pennsylvania.
Ah, yes, the incessant battle between the states. I’m a Jersey native but have lived in Philly for nearly 2 years. Before that, I commuted to the city for over a year. It’s safe to say that Philly drivers are horrific. One time, I even saw a car casually driving down a sidewalk in North Philly. It was slightly terrifying. I could go on and on about this topic for hours, but instead I’ll just say: Use your goddamn blinker. Don’t just stop in front of my car and expect me to know that you’re waiting to make a turn!
Encountering a toilet paper roll with two sheets left on it.
Believe it or not, it is not a challenge to remove a small cyclical cardboard from its holder and replace it with a fresh roll that actually has paper on it. Expecting someone else to do the *incredibly difficult* work of changing the roll and *gasp* tossing the cardboard shell in the trash-can is one of those things that results in a severe (SEVERE!) glare. Not that anyone ever sees such a glare…so I’m just telling you all now. DO NOT DO IT.
Watching someone leave a public bathroom without scrubbing with soap.
I’m not even going to elaborate. Gross.
Being the 7th wheel. Or the 9th wheel.
Yes, aside from a few weeks here and there, I’ve been single for over two years now. Did I think I’d find my Mister-Me by now? Yup. Am I too picky? Safe to say. Am I jumping through hoops to find him? Nope. But when you invite me out and I’m the only non-coupled person in a sea of happy duos, it does kinda suck. A lot. And not telling me about the set-up beforehand is not cool.
Telling me to do something via a “Let’s.”
Let’s get this work project completed in the next two hours? Oh, wait, you mean me, right? That’s what you meant? Okay. I’LL do my best. Only time this phrase does not make me cringe is when it ends with “Let’s do happy hour.” or “Let’s eat pie.”
Rolling your eyes at me.
This is never okay. Resist. You are not 5.
Discussing politics on Facebook.
Because we all have different opinions and having a battle over Donald Trump’s latest outlandish opinion is not worth it.
Aaaand a bonus, seasonally appropriate peeve:
Because I’ll be cold on the regular until May. And that seems very cruel, world.