Looking for some way to spice up my life, I figured I should adopt a new pet. After all, even with two dogs, a cat, and a gecko, you can always make room for one more! So I went down to the local back-alley pet store to see what they had in stock. I figured I should get something different to change things up a bit, so I opted to see what birds were available. To my dismay, almost all of the birds had recently mysteriously vanished while the Leopard was looking a bit heftier than usual. So my options limited, I purchased the only one able to successfully disguise itself in the massacre: a penguin.
I’ve known of several clean-shaven gentlemen in my life so far whom I have actually looked up to once upon a time for their cleanliness. You could clean compact discs on their faces, they were so smooth. Over the course of many months, I’d always lose myself in thought over the smooth appearance of their clefts, feel my own chin, and then sigh in disappointment. I would never be as clean-shaven as them, I always thought. They probably devoted a few minutes every single morning to maintaining their baby’s-bottom-smooth composure, and that was just the kind of dedication I did not have. These people, these so very extremely smooth people were like titans in mine eyes, titans of clean.
Here’s a pet peeve of mine that I think all of us can agree is quite annoying. There’s a common type of person whom all of us have met at one point or another. Sometimes, he’s your history professor in college. Sometimes, he’s the strange neighbor down the street that is completely oblivious to the fact that no one likes him and who has managed to somehow identify you, of all people, as his chum. Heaven forbid this type of person is actually a member of your immediate family. He’s somewhere in the neighborhood of thirty to forty years of age, wears sweater vests and golf socks, is well versed in Shakespeare and philosophy, and, not least of all, has been boasting a glistening bald patch in the back of his head since he was twenty-three. This person (here it comes) OVEREMPHASIZES THE “H” IN EVERYTHING HE SAYS. “WHHHHHHy, HHHHHHow are you doing today?” he might say. “Excuse me, wHHHHHat was that you said? HHHHHHalitosis? Me?”
Y’know, it’s interesting that somebody just put up a post on this site complaining about imitators because that just happens to be what this issue of “My Pet Peeves” covers. I HATE it when people borrow (more like annex) the work and styles of someone else’s efforts. This means that 99.9999999% of the time, I hate fan videos of movies and shows, covers of already famous and popular songs, homemade comics on the web featuring casts of characters that already exist and are copyrighted like Naruto, photoshop images of things that photoshop images have already been made of, and the list goes on and on. The post I mentioned above featured yet another thing we have all seen many versions of, something which we have all come to love and then grow tired of in one sitting: Motivational posters and their many, many, MANY EFFING MANY parodies. Now that the internet is home to somewhere over nine thousand of these parodies, who in their right mind, in their left mind, or even in their auxiliary mind would want to be just another person to make yet one more? Who wants to become a statistic, really?
I hate it… I mean I REALLY hate it when people have stupid pet peeves. They come up to me, disgruntled and afluster with aggravation. I ask: “What’s wrong?” and they answer: “You know what I really hate?” I say: “What do you really hate?” Then they say something extremely retarded, something hardly worth calling attention to at all, something to which NOBODY CAN RELATE!
“I hate peeing in other peoples’ pee,” said one of my friends one night.
There is this category of people I like to call “waver-onners.” You’ve all encountered them before. They’re the people who wave you on. I despise these people. They always go out of their way to inconvenience themselves so that they can look at you through their tinted windshield with some sort of faggoty little grin and wave you on. “Go ahead! I stopped for you,” they’re indicating, and nine times out of ten, I think to them: “Why, you ass clown? I waited here for several seconds so that YOU could go ahead!”
I’ve got a number of pet peeves, and, to my annoyance, I am constantly finding more to foster with the passing of time. In my book, constantly is too often, and living on a college campus full of bozos and ruffians does not help. So that the world can share in my grief, I will share my pet peeves with you all, one for each week. Some of them, people will be able to sympathize with me on. Others…. well, only in my world I suppose.
Anyone out there got earplug headphones? If so, then you might know where I’m going with this. Or maybe I’ll surprise you yet.