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JWR 2.23 - Irritation Like Sand In Your Vagina

 

Things That Irritate A Sane Person

And Johnís Ways to Avoid Them

 

You have to try on a pair of sunglasses with that stupid little plastic thing in the middle of them.

Peel that motherfucker off.  What are they gonna do, kick you out?  All the stickers say is how UV protective they all are.  And guess what?  Every pair of sunglasses are 100% UV-A and UV-B protectant nowadays.  You can send away for a pair of Golden Grahams sunglasses for three box tops plus shipping and theyíre 100% protectant.  But does this really bother you?

 

The person behind you in the supermarket runs his cart into the back of your ankle.

Once it happens, turn around slowly and look really meanly at whoever it is.  If itís an old lady, chances are that she will apologize.  If she doesnít, sheís a big ole bitch and you must assert your superiority.  Tell her you would appreciate it if sheís be a bit more careful and not run her Goddamn cart into your legs.  You must use the work ďGoddamnĒ as it places you as a ďSatanistĒ in her book and she thinks if she pisses you off anymore, youíll follow her home, kill and gut her, sacrifice various organs and skull fuck her eye sockets.  If itís a kid, chances are they wonít say a word, rather they will look away.  But they know you donít like it.  You have the choice to stand facing the kid until you leave the market (in which case, if you do it right, the kidís parents might think about putting the kid back into diapers based on the mess he leaves in his chinos) or turn back around hoping that your brief stare did the trick.  In any case, if it happens again, you MUST turn around rapidly (only 180 degrees, Michael Jackson) grab that cart, shove it into their sternum and start screaming a bunch of ďFucksĒ within a tirade that would make Jeff blush.  Thatíll learn Ďem.

 

The elevator stops on every floor and nobody gets on.

If this gets on your nerves, youíre a pussy.

 

There's always a car riding your tail when you're slowing down to find an address.

Either know where the hell youíre going or let the car pass you.  Selfish drivers suck my ass.  Never ever slam on your Goddamn brakes.  Just pull over to the side of the road--and use your directionals, for Chrissakes.  I hate the philosophy: well, he can wait because I donít know where the hell Iím going.  Hey, maybe heís gotta shit, you selfish bitch.

 

You open a can of soup and the lid falls in.

This does not bother me either.  You know how to not have it happen, right before you sever the lid entirely it will pop up a slight bit, snatch that and finish cutting.  Or if it does fall in, press gently on one edge of the lid which will cause the other edge to pop up.  Easy.

 

It's bad enough that you step in dog poop, but you don't realize it till you walk across your living room rug.

Yeah, this does suck.  But you should be able to smell the shit, you know what Iím saying?

 

The tiny red string on the Band-Aid wrapper never works for you.

Yes!  Itís almost as bad as opening a CD.  But at least you donít have the silver fucking dog bone fucking thing on a band-aid.  Just use duct tape.

 

There's a dog in the neighborhood that barks at EVERYTHING.

Iím unsure of how to handle this.  You canít approach or yell at the dog itself, thatís as pointless as a long distance relationship.  Youíre left with one of three options: 1) talk to the owner, 2) ignore it, or 3) snatch the dog and take it to a veterinarian and have itís larynx removed.  Sounds mean, right?  Well, it is so funny to watch a dog go through the motions of barking and when no sound comes out, it gets all confused and tries to bark more.  Itís like watching the Dude crash into a dumpster.

 

You can never put anything back in a box the way it came.

Thatís because youíre so impatient that you take it out of the box without looking at how it was packaged.  Itís like folding up a road map, you have to take a look at it first.  Or just give it to a kid to screw with.  If that fails, turn that sumbitch sideways and shove it straight in the box.

 

Three hours and three meetings after lunch you look in the mirror and discover a piece of parsley stuck to your front tooth.

This must be for the important ones in the group whose days are chock full of important meetings.  Chances are you didnít say a word in the meeting, so donít sweat it.  Avoid the adult equivalent of a pantsing by simply not eating parsley.  What, you think youíll miss it?  And isnít parsley just for decoration anyway?  Or hows about brushing our teeth before these big, important meetings?

 

You drink from a soda can into which someone has extinguished a cigarette.

I have never ever done this.  I have no advice, although this one, the previous one and several others, I donít think would drive anyone insane.

 

You slice your tongue licking an envelope.

Keep away from the salt lick.  And try licking the flat part of the envelope, Gene Simmons.

 

Your tire gauge lets out half the air while you're trying to get a reading.

If you donít know how to work a tire gauge, what are you doing out of the crib?  Press the gauge flatly and firmly against the valve, dammit!  Remove it the same way, just quickly.  Itís like Iím talking to my brothersí kids or something.

 

A station comes in brilliantly when you're standing near the radio but buzzes, drifts and spits every time you move away.

Yeah, this one really pisses me off.  I canít get shit at work.  I also get a lot of electrical interference which makes it impossible to get the Lazer which is the only station that plays even halfway decent music.  Solution: get a CD player, or a tape player, or for you techno junkies, an MP3 player.  Set aside some of that money you use for crack and splurge.

 

There are always one or two ice cubes that won't pop out of the tray.

Bang that motherfucker around.  They might fly out and land on the dirty floor, but you showed those sons of bitches that you are not the man with whom to fuck.

 

You wash a garment with a tissue in the pocket and your entire laundry comes out covered with lint.

Empty your pockets, sneezy.

 

The car behind you blasts its horn because you let a pedestrian finish crossing.

Just sit there.  Or give them the finger.  But do not start and then slam on your brakes like itís some kind of game.  Hell, get out of your car, if you want.  Pull a Tyson on them.  I get beeped at when I sit at a red light with a sign that says NO TURN ON RED.  Itís kind of comical to me.   You know when I use my horn?  I honk at people who run red arrow lights.  Yeah, those people really piss me off.  Cops do not pull these people over, so I figure Iíll try to call as much attention to them as possible.  But I wonít do it to truckers, because I respect truckers.  But some little punk in his momís Stratus gets the horn.

 

A piece of foil candy wrapper makes electrical contact with your filling.

Never happened to me, but I can be relatively sure that the station would not come in well which would drive me doubly insane.

 

You set the alarm on your digital clock for 7pm instead of 7am.

Thatíll teach you not to be so stupid, wonít it.  Have it happen a few times and youíll have a lot of time to think about how dumb you are when you get fired.  Just donít forget to turn it off on the weekends, hey?

 

The radio station doesn't tell you who sang that song.

Hey, buddy, donít worry, chances are theyíll play it again in fifty-three minutes.  I hate the radio.  I was listening to the top five songs in Milwaukee on the pop station and I felt vomit rise, I swear.  Shaggy, Madonna, S-Club-7, and two no-name crappy bubble gum pop rip-off wannabes.  But rock stations are no better: nothing but new Creed and Staind.  They even play Lifehouse on Lazer.  Lifehouse is soft rock, Christian rock, even.  But itís soft.  I understand why Lazer plays Jimi Hendrix, but Lifehouse?

 

You rub on hand cream and can't turn the bathroom doorknob to get out.

Really, how did you get a driverís license, a job, a credit card?  Is it that you canít or donít want to lube up the knob?  Insane or just prissy and childish?

 

People behind you on a supermarket line dash ahead of you to a counter just opening up.

Well, yeah.  Just stick with it.  Nobodyís behind you now.  You should be happy...but if you want to have some fun, follow the fucker who was behind you and start slamming your cart into him while screaming ďFUNNY!  FUNNY!  FUNNY!...Ē

 

Your glasses slide off your ears when you perspire.

Well, Mr. Potatohead, perhaps we should take more of that crack money and get you some ears.  Or those glasses that go over the top of your head like Christian wears on the WWF.

 

You can't look up the correct spelling of a word in the dictionary because you don't know how to spell it.

Dummy.

 

You have to inform five different sales people in the same store that you're just browsing.

Hey, make a game out of it and ask for things they donít carry.  If youíre in a music store, ask where the five-penny galvanized nails are.  Or just keep saying, ďHuh?...What?Ē to them.  What are they gonna do, yell at you?  See how many times you can get them to repeat it and then see if you can beat it with the next person.  Most of the ďcustomer service personnelĒ are high school kids who youíd rather shoot than give commission.  Besides, theyíre five dollar an hour jabronis.

 

You had that pen in your hand only a second ago and now you can't find it.

Look, Bob Dole, this is why they invented pockets and pocket protectors.  Or, if youíre not into the whole geek look, I suggest paying attention to what youíre doing.  Since I have begun paying attention, I have seldom lost a pen for more than three minutes.  Try it, you might like it.

 

You reach under the table to pick something off the floor and smash your head on the way up.

You got a big head.

 

John

 

P.S.: This is a factoid that I had forgotten, repressed, whatever.  You should remember it in case she makes a comeback: Remember! Paula Cole does not shave her armpits.

 

Copyright © 2001 John Lemut