Archive for the ‘peeves’ Category

I just thought of some more pet peeves – they’re unlimited really. Let’s, for example, discuss packaging.  Can you tell me why it is necessary to wrap a CD, DVD, iPod, set of spoons, battering ram, rubber ducky – anything really, you name it – in four hundred layers of bullet proof hard-shell plastic that is impossible to open unless you are carrying a chain-saw with you in the car?  It’s enough to make Ghandi spit.  There’s no point in trying to tear open the pack with your fingers or your teeth, and banging it on the dashboard has no effect other than to vent your rage and knock your coffee cup – full of cold coffee of course – on the floor where it makes a slippery brown puddle on your nice new floor mats that are still encased in plastic because you couldn’t get it off. 


What about cereal boxes and chip bags [crisps for you Brits out there].  Obviously there is someone with a little air pump who blows up and seals the bags all day long so that you – slightly daft in the head consumer you – believe that there are actually *more* chips, cornflakes, Wheaties in the bag than there actually are.  “Blimey – this entire box of Choco-Chunko-Pops barely fits in one cereal bowl.  Is my china wear somewhat oversized or have I been done – probably by the same company that keeps increasing the diameter of the hole in the middle of the toilet roll until I get mostly cardboard and not much toilet roll on my roll?” 


Cereal is a major peeve of mine.  The boxes keep getting taller and thinner, or shorter and thinner [to make me think I’m getting the same amount as yesterday – harhar] until soon it will only be possible to get six flakes in the box standing end on end.  Over here we call them ‘one flake boxes’.  The price is right though – $1.99 for half a bowl of breakfast cereal must be a great deal – don’t you think?  Or at least the manufacturers would have you think so.  And another thing – here in Canada – and probably everywhere else, the price of cereal has increased exponentially over the past five years.  I don’t know if there are any other industries – barring the fat bastard petroleum companies of course – that could possibly get away with jacking up their prices by 100% every six months.   Of course you have to pay more for the nutritional benefits of getting less sugar, less fat, less salt, and less cereal in your box.  Hasn’t it ever struck you as somewhat odd that if they leave something out you get to pay more money for it?  Maybe it’s just me.


And don’t you just love those crafty little MBA business types who play cat and mouse with us, obviously slightly thick, consumers?  We evidently don’t notice the flatter, thinner boxes, or the size of the hole in the toilet roll, and if you wrap something in a big enough box i.e. computer games, we will fully believe that the eighty dollar price tag is warranted.  Nowadays you can even sell us a large box containing nothing at all except a small compact disk that allows us to play the game ONLINE for only eighty bucks – plus small monthly fee of course. 


I can download music for my over-priced iPod from iTunes for only 99 cents per song – which comes to much more than the price per song of buying the entire non-virtual album off the shelf, especially if you factor in the big box wrapped in cellophane encased in the bullet-proof hard-shell box that I can’t get open that it comes in.  Then there are athletic shoes.  Did you ever in your wildest dreams anticipate the day when you would go out and actually fork over two hundred and fifty bucks for a PAIR OF SHOES!  Now you must have designer shoes for walking, for running, for cross-training, for yoga, for playing basket-ball, for standing still and doing nothing, or just to show the neighbours you forked over all that money for a PAIR OF SHOES!  And don’t forget the gear.  You have to have spandex shorts and coolmax shirts and wrist guards and headbands and sports goggles to complete your outfit.  You can’t just waltz out to the court, rink, gym wearing any old tatty t-shirt.  It has to at the very least be emblazoned with NIKE, or ADIDAS; otherwise it’s just too too beyond the pale.  You would be laughed out of the club.  Of course it goes without saying that you must be a member of a GYM.  Only the plebs work out at home or heaven forbid, go for a walk with the dog around the block.  You must go to the gym daily [to justify your exorbitant membership fees], and use words like aerobics, cardio, Tai-bo, aqua-fit, bench-press, heart healthy and six-pack in every conversation and drink power juices which are apparently made from ground up grass and cost four bucks a pop.


Other peeves to ponder [I’ve got a million of ‘em] – designer purses that cost upwards of three thousand dollars just because they say ‘Gucci’ on the flap – ‘Gourmet’ coffee and cocoa sold for 15 bucks per pound on the backs of poor indigenous farmers who get paid squat for working the fields 18 hours per day.  Clothes and textiles manufactured ‘off-shore’ so that local workers get laid off – designer shoes produced by sweatshops in Indonesia for pennies and sold for hundreds of dollars here – farmed salmon – gas prices – the price of electricity in Canada where we have some of the largest hydro-electric power plants in the world and the monopoly of the utilities companies that will happily cut off your light and heat in the depths of a Canadian winter and let you freeze to death, quite legally, for the sake of the hundred bucks outstanding on your bill.  Health services cut to the bone – taxes on everything increasing daily – no jobs – ageism – sexism – racism – religious fanaticism – any sort of ‘ism’.

I could go on but this is getting depressing.  I shall have to think of lighter things – maybe tomorrow.  Don’t touch that dial.


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Got any peeves? I have – quite a few in fact. The other day I was driving to the store and somewhere along the way had to make a left hand turn [in Canada we drive on the right unlike all you Brits who just drive on the left to confuse invading armies and confound Americans]. This operation requires that you pull out into the middle of the road – wait for oncoming traffic to blast by you rattling your teeth and your windows and then turn to your left into the opposing left hand or ‘overtaking’ lane before moving over sedately into the right-hand lane, a block or so up the road, so all the speeders can zoom by you. You know the ones – they have cell-phones permanently glued to their ears on the one hand and a hot coffee in the other hand. Somehow they also manage to blast you on the horn while giving you the finger as well. How they do that I’m not sure but I’m not going to go there.


Well, there I was, making my left turn and waiting patiently for the oncoming traffic to roar off over the horizon. A perfect model of road safety and decorum, that’s me. Just as I determined that the road was clear and started making my turn someone else, cell-phone glued to ear, coffee in hand, zoomed up to me, and turned left on my inside before I could even splutter out all four letters of my favourite expletive and choke back my shock and outrage. Honestly – some people! I almost spilled my Jumbo Coke. Haven’t you ever wished that it was legal to carry a paint-ball gun with you on every trip to be used on abusive drivers, tail-gators and road hogs? I think it would be a great idea personally. The next time someone tries to muscle you off the road and into the ditch just lean out and give them one – SPLAT – right between the headlights.


My other idea is to have a scrolling LED screen running across my rear window with preprogrammed sayings such as “If you get much closer you’re gonna have to marry me” or “If you get much closer you’re gonna be in front of me and I’ll be tailgating you!”. Or just “Why don’t you just flock off and die you stupid flocking oaf!” [my personal favourite – but cleaned up for public consumption].


Other pet peeves, people who spit on the sidewalk – that drives me insane. Where’s my paintball gun! Arrrgh! People who eat with their mouth open and talk at the same time. People who talk while eating a Whopper so that you have no clue what they’re saying; comes out as “gurgle, grompf, splat, garrr”. They are either calling for someone to give them the Heimlich because they’re choking on all that disgusting fatty sausage or they’re swearing in Klingon – it’s hard to be sure. People who chew gum and talk at the same time or – worse – chew gum and snap it – or much worse, chew gum and pull it out of the mouth in a long string and then chew it back in again. Scream!


Then there are people who never wear deodorant but insist on standing right next to you on the bus. Haven’t they noticed the flies falling out of the sky and the flowers wilting as they pass by? Do they think it’s some other disgusting person not them? Were they recently in some war where they got their noses shot off? How can they stand themselves? What about the rest of the family – do they all pong to high heaven so that no-one notices the aroma coming off dad – who is usually wearing a sleeveless shirt that also displays his hairy armpits. I’m sure he’s probably hairy all over as well – back, front, sides, bum, willy. He probably thinks a wax job is something you do to your car or perhaps, in his wildest moments, something you do in the bedroom.


I don’t know about the rest of the world but here in Canada, and probably in the southern states of America, there are women, long past the age – and the weight – when such a thing might be possible, who think the height of elegance is to wear stretchy faded halter-tops and spandex shorts around the supermarket. You’ve seen them I’m sure – saggy boobs hanging out the sides, varicose veins prominently displayed, wailing kids straggling along behind with a dirty soother or dummy stuck in the mouth. Now that really drives me nuts – kids over the age of two sucking on a dummy [pacifier] – it’s even worse than the sight of a six year old sucking on a finger – but not as bad as seeing some mother actually *licking* the dummy before sticking it in poor baby’s mouth. Arrrgh.


Other peeves, young guys who wear their pants pulled down below the crotch so that they have to waddle to walk, women with tattoos and black bra straps showing beneath a white tank, women who have tattoos in the crack of the bum peaking over their ‘low rider’ jeans, women with tattoos anywhere. Haven’t they considered what they’ll look like when they’re in the old folks home gumming down their porridge? What about women wearing those belly shirts that make even the thinnest of the thin look fat? Men walking around downtown with no shirt on and a body that only a slug could be proud of. Men who have to keep adjusting their willies as they walk about in public. What’s with all this adjustment? Does it move around all by itself? Are they all ‘going commando’ and things are a little itchy down there?


And then of course there’s the usual peeves, people who talk all through the film – shout out daft remarks in the theatre, happily sit back and watch ‘Little Timmy’ go through your house like a wrecking ball, don’t pick up pet poo in parks [hey – some alliteration – I always wanted to use that word] and of course people who lean over you to get something off a shelf and stick their armpits in your face and those who have never heard of saying ‘Please’ or ‘Thanks’ or ‘Excuse Me’.


Hrrrumph – I may have to go and lay down for a bit at the very thought of all this. Feel free to share your pet peeves. I look forward to it so long as you’re not scratching yourself while you’re doing it…

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