This page is designed for me to keep a running list of all the things you people do that fill me with an intense need to pierce my trachea with a hot coat hanger. They are numbered in reverse order because I write them down as they occur to me. Feel free to add your own in the comments.
(Note: by “you people,” I obviously mean other people, as opposed to you specifically. You, as a member of the elite intelligentsia that have chosen to read this blog, have exactly zero annoying habits. You’re a social marvel of grace, wit, and decorum. Keep reading.)
10. Mr. Bathroom Talker: I can’t express myself strongly enough here–we do not come in here to converse. We are here to eliminate waste, exchange terse nods, and give a cursory hand-washing. Do not engage. Do not attempt to engage. DEAR LORD do not open up a line of conversation mid-stream. Just stop it altogether.
9. Silence-Fearing-Person: what, exactly, would be wrong with saying nothing? We don’t really know each other. There’s no reason for us to converse in this bathroom / elevator / funeral parlor. We are all aware of the weather–we walked through it to get to where we are now. Because we are appropriately socialized, we grasp the emotional flavor of the room–no reason to point out that funerals are sad or malls are busy at Christmas. Please write down whatever it is you want to say, then swallow the paper.
8. Nervous Laugher: what prevents you from simply ending a sentence? What is this odd noise you attach to the end of every vocalization, somewhere between a guffaw and a horse-whinny? What punctuation mark would your sentences require? I propose a small stick figure of my soul vacating my body.
7. Edge-of-Fashion people: we need you to slow down. You confuse us. As soon as Tom’s become popular enough to have knockoffs at Wal-Mart and Target (where we finally notice how cool they are and purchase them), you move on to skinny jeans. Every time we approach the muffler of the Fashion Car that is Constantly Driving Away From Us, you hit the gas again. We are eternally frustrated baggy-jean wearing Labradors, desperate to catch you one day at last. And just when we get close, you begin wearing v-neck t-shirts.
6. Mr / Mrs Frustrated Middle-Aged Sports Fan: We get it. You hate your job. You hate your life. There is a high probability that your heart rate has never been over 82 bpm, because you’ve never actually been an athlete of any kind. None of this excuses the fact that you are currently taunting a high school athlete from the security of your padded “Bleacher Cushion for Fat People.” You are (theoretically) a functioning adult in the most complex society the world has ever known; you should have enough money / power / status by now to get your jollies in some other way. You are oblivious to the fact that we all simultaneously pity and hate you. I pray someone throws an errant pass at your unsuspecting face. (If it’s actually a Little League player you’re taunting, please wander into traffic immediately.)
5. Mr. Injury: we are playing a game of football / basketball / baseball. We understand that your ankle sprain or compound fracture or lacerated kidney needs medical attention. Just roll off the court so we can keep playing. We’ll tend to you shortly. And by “tend,” we mean “call your wife.” And by “shortly,” we mean “once somebody wins by two.”
4. Guy Who Keeps the Running Score in Pickup Basketball Games: you’ve found the most irritating possible way to demonstrate that you were a BEAST in third grade math. None of the people keeping score quietly in their own head like you. (Confession: I am this guy.)
3. Mom Who Dresses Her Male Toddler In Effeminate Clothing: he will hate you forever when he discovers the pictures, and we are all made uncomfortable being in the room with what appears to be a transvestite midget.
2. Mr. Cover the Handshake With Your Other Hand: we don’t like you either. You are Mr. Long Hand-Shaker’s even weirder, disturbingly friendly cousin.
1. Mr. Long Hand-Shaker. You make us all uncomfortable. If I wanted to hold another guy’s hand for that long, I’d change my sexual orientation.