As most of you know, I’ve been trying to wean myself off of memes lately, but the problem is, people keep coming up with some bloody good ones! This week, Kate Takes 5 asks us about our pet hates, and seeing as I’m one of those people who is a veritable bristling ball of peeves, so this one was too good to miss!
To a certain extent I realise, especially with kids, that the first bite is with the eye, and if you genuinely can’t get over the look of something, it’s going to be hard to actually eat it. But when people, GROWN UP PEOPLE, say “I don’t like (insert food stuff here)” and you ask them if they’ve tried it and they SAY NO….HOW THE FUCK DO YOU KNOW IF YOU DON’T LIKE IT IF YOU’VE NEVER TRIED IT?!?!?! Idiocy. And ignorance.
I am a very cuddly and tactile person, with my friends and family, and when you have a toddler and the worlds’ biggest lap dog, you tend to give up any standards you may once have had about maintaining personal space. But when it comes to other people, I want to constantly quote Johnny Castle; “This (……) is my dance space…”. Why do people feel the need to stand two inches away when there’s plenty of space around them? It’s not that I don’t like closeness, it more to do with the fact that standing next to an unknown can be like an olfactory assault. I don’t want to smell your aftershave/perfume/B.O./breath etc. Nor do I want to inspect your pores, feel the flecks of spit that come out when you talk, or be able to deduce what you have for lunch and brand of fucking pipe tobacco you use. This was all made so much worse when I was pregnant and had hideous morning sickness. A bloke I worked with had extremely poor personal hygiene, about three mouldy teeth in his head and smoked a pipe. He is the first person to ever make me actually properly vomit, just by being there.
One would think that, if it’s illegal to drive a vehicle on the pavement, that the law would extend to mobility scooters, especially when they’re being driven by octogenarians with macular degeneration and the reflexes of a three-toes sloth. But no, these half-blind maniacs are allowed to drive around, unrestricted, forcing unsuspecting pedestrians to have to dive out-of-the-way, while they zoom past without a care in the world. Now, my issue isn’t actually with the scooters or who drive them, per se, my issue is with how fast the poxy things go. If they’re made for use on the pavement, the should be restricted to only go as fast as walking pace. Anything faster turns them into a mechanised weapon. Fact.
5. People Who Choose their Vices over their Kids
Let me elaborate. There’s this woman and her kid, who live near me. I used to see them walking to school as I was going to Caterpillar Music with Sausage, and I felt really sorry for them. She dresses in pretty dire clothes, that’s not me being a snob, or a fashion victim, she just looks like everything she wears is uncomfortable, ill-fitting and old. In the same vein, her child has unkempt hair, smells a little unsavoury and has the worst jack-ups going. I didn’t judge, I just thought that life must be tough for them. Then I saw her one day, after school, coming our of the shops with 60 fags and a bottle of cider, while her short-trousered kids scuttled along behind asking why can’t I have sweets? Only for Mummy dearest to shout that she doesn’t have any money….Err, but, you had money for fags and booze, lady? I then did another personal re-adjustment and thought “No, she may be running an errand for someone else, the cigarettes and alcohol may belong to someone else”. Until I came back out and walked past her, sitting in the park, smoking her fags and sharing her cider with her bunch of degenerate mates. (They must be degenerates, right? Four adults, sitting in a kids park, drinking?)
All pity for this woman went right out of the window at this point. Her poor kid was basically being singled out for bullying by his too-short trews and hygiene issues, all the while his selfish bitch of a mother is getting off of her face on cheap booze? Un-fucking-acceptable.
So, now you have a pretty detailed insight into what pushes my buttons, do with it what you will. Though if what you choose to do with it involves standing too close, telling me you don’t like olives, putting Play Doh in my carpet, neglecting your kids and then driving off at high speeds on an OAP chariot, expect a slap.
Hop over to Kate’s to see what grinds everyone else’s gears.