The fourth installment of Uniting In Fury is upon us, which may have you thinking I just sit around mad all the time. I don’t.
I’m usually standing.
When hair is anywhere but on a head. Healthy hair is a beautiful thing, until it’s on a table—or in your ravioli. It goes from, “Your hair is gorrr-geous; I just want to run my fingers through it!” to “Eww, eww, eww, it’s on my glass! Get it off. GET IT OFFFF!”
In all fairness, I’d feel the same way about an arm or a finger that came loose.
When men call their wives “bride” LONG PAST THEIR WEDDING DAY.
Example: “Taking my bride out for cocktails!” and “Loving beach time with my bride!”
Yes, Reader, I know I’ve mentioned it in a previous post, but it bears repeating—because I’m still catching whiffs of it online. Guys, STOP. Women don’t say “My groom cleaned out the gutters today” or “Holla! It’s date night with the groom!”
What is it about “bride” that makes guys enjoy saying it? It must be something, because I’ve heard some seemingly normal guys say it.
A mom of a 5-year old doesn’t say, “Taking the embryo to Chuck E. Cheese!”
When I’m at a light, admiring the new Jaguar beside me—taking in its sexy lines and sleek curves; dreaming of how one day it will be mine—then it takes off and I see it’s a Hyundai.
When I’m riding a bike and I’m close to an edge, then really close, then so close I can’t make myself turn away from it—so I just go off the edge. What is this phenomenon? It’s been happening since I was probably nine. Do I have a defect?
When I take my receipt from a cashier and say, “Thank you” and they say, “No problem.” What? How about, “No, thank YOU” or “Absolutely—thank YOU for shopping with us.” They should thank customers in any way other than, “No problem.” This tactic is picking up speed, which makes me wonder if it’s part of the training. Surely not.
Side Note: While we’re on cashiers and grocery store clerks, let me tell you about a recent experience that was nothing short of delightful. The other day I was feeling especially unfit for human interaction, so I chose the self checkout line. I started scanning and got to the bananas. I was pretty sure the code was 4011, but wanted to check, so I picked them up to peep the sticker, when I heard an impatient, “FORTY ELEVEN” from a gruff, female voice box. I thought, nah, that’s not directed at me, I’m in self checkout … which means I do this by MYSELF. I went back to look at the bananas and she barked, “FORRR-TYYY-EEEE-LEVEN!” Holy cow, it was the self checkout watchdog … “assisting” me. I looked up and she was standing there in her smock, arms crossed, crotchety and know-it-all’y as could be. We made eye contact and she jutted her face forward and said, “FORRRTY EEEE” and I snapped back, “Yeah, Chief, I heard you. The whole store heard you.” She sucked her teeth and looked away, 100% unbothered by my irritation. Crap, she was wearing the pants in this relationship—which I could not abide—so I purposefully picked up the habaneros and waved them in the air, as if to say, “What’cha got for me here, PLU Queen?” She looked from the peppers to me and back to the peppers, cocked her mouth in loathsome defeat and walked away. I said loudly, “3125 … THIRRRRTY ONE TWENTY FIIIIVE!”
Look, I told every one of you I was unfit for human interaction that day. You had fair warning.
When people push the ottoman you’re sharing. Jesus take the wheel. It’s 10x worse when they claim it was you who pushed it.
When someone uses the “Looking for Recommendations” feature on Facebook, and asks for something—like the best landscaper or the least stuffy cruise line—and ends the request with, “GO!” As in, “Wanting to lay a stone border around garden. Need landscaper recs. GO!”
I’ll go do something—anything—to not “GO!” right away. Polish the silver, clean some grout with a toothbrush, make a labor-intensive risotto recipe that requires me to drive to the store for saffron.
Side Note: The GO! tactic is a second cousin to this nuisance: the person who goes on Facebook to ask for suggestions, but doesn’t really need them, just wants people to know what they’re up to.
Example from an asshat:
Example from a normal person:
When people back into parking spots—for no reason other than to not have to back out. It’s simple math that even I can grasp. You either have to back in (which seems to take exponentially longer and annoy far more onlookers) or you have to back out (which is usually done in one try and seen as very normal behavior.)
Backer-Inners, please explain your rationale to me so I can let this agitation go. I’m assuming—since it’s a 50/50 thing that cannot be rationalized—that maybe you’re trying to show off? You’re highlighting one of your strengths? I haven’t been on a dating site to confirm this, but I’m assuming it’s a box you can check as one of your best attributes?
I mean, it’s a little bit impressive to see someone back a big ol’ Dually into a parking spot (when I’m not the one waiting), but it’s also pretty impressive when someone just, you know, doesn’t do that.
When honey mustard sneaks into my mouth. I love mustard, but you know what honey mustard is? Ruined mustard. Might as well try to sell me on Sweet n’ Low olives. I wish these delicacies could just be their acidic, tart selves—and not get pressured into hanging out with disparate flavors. Some people just aren’t boss enough to appreciate the power of vinegar and tang. To them I say, “Oh hey, Little One, let me show you to the door—to a special room away from me, where you can eat all the foods that are in the throws of an identity crisis. Go on now, figure out if you want dinner or dessert, then we can talk.”
Side Note: Mango salsa, I’m looking at you, too, kiddo.
When people don’t keep their trees trimmed. I have to restrain myself from sneaking over to snip some branches real quick—especially if it’s a place I’ll have to see again.
Since we’ve established that I love chores where I can see a marked before and after difference, you can imagine that mowing, edging and trimming trees are all fulfilling “jobs” for me. That must be why—when I go for walks—I find myself plotting ways to circle back to particular properties to give them a good detail. I want to walk with some long pruners by my side and snip the hanging branches from the trees we walk by.
The “problem” (as Jocelyn puts it), is that it’s not a fleeting thought. I actually plot ways to make it happen—and get lost in planning the caper. I’ll be deep into mentally mapping it out when Jocelyn says, “Hello? What are you thinking about?” I usually say, “Oh, just how good babies smell.” But really, I’m just biding my time until I can hit up Amazon for a sling satchel to carry my pruners in.
When I find out someone I thought I loved enjoys stuffed bell peppers.
Not ready to stop Uniting In Fury? Great—here you go: