NOTE to ALL: You don't have to write a new post for the Hmm. Old or new, short or long, funny or serious, any post on topic is welcome. So...get busy adding in your links below. Don't give me another reason to Dread December. ;)
Today's topic for the Hump Day Hmm is pet peeves, the unique to me ones...and why. The mind boggles at where to begin. Oh I have so many peeves. Let's think of a few off the top of my head.
* People who talk on those ear bud phones. In public. While making eye contact with you. Okay...just cell phones and rampant abuse thereof in general. Such as in restaurants, at a table for two, with one person shoveling bread in his/her mouth while the other gabs with someone not even there.
* People who cut me off in traffic (deliberately, because they are clearly more important).
* Boys with pants hanging off their rear ends (especially if they wear stripey boxer shorts).
* Meat with bones.
* Mispronouncing words (on purpose, such as gahy-raj for garage---they don't even say it like that in France) (or Eye-tal-yun for Italian).
* Mocking the fun.
* Sloppy bag loading at the grocery store.
* Sandwhich (NO H!).
* Irregardless and myself (as in, irregardless, myself and Jon are going to a Christmas party. GAH!) (and OH MY STARS! The dictionary recognizes that word now. GAH!!!!).
* Acting like I'm the stupid one when you don't get my jokes or references. (You guys know I'm completely mocking myself here, don't you?)
I must walk around constantly irritated. Sadly, that's not half wrong. I don't do a very good imitation of a duck. (Water rolling off the back.)
Be glad of that. You people need people like me. We do things.
But really, I don't dwell. Much.
Also, these are not the peeves I'll discuss. Oh no. I have one today that trumps the rest:
I want.
That's right, two little words. I want.
It started the second we walked through the doors of the store.
By the time we got to the middle of the store---the area I lovingly refer to as the Fire Swamp* of Three Terrors: 1. Seasonal-themed cheap clothing, 2. Pajamas, and 3. Accessories---I was worn out from wants and pleas, not to mention the escalating threats.
Thus, when we passed gloves---gloves! here! why?---I was right at Meltdown. I'd had more than enough of the endless I want chorus.
Removing the children from the Kiddie Lingerie section...sigh. Screaming. Mom trying to pretend she's got it in hand. Mom trying to pretend she's not ready to lose her cool. Kids trying to wear down my resistance through volume.
I'd have walked out if it had been a choice.
One item left: the ornament for the exchange.
I quickly hustled to the holiday section, snagged the first nice ornament that caught my eye, and sped to the front where we were confronted by so many terrors I decided the Fire Swamp needed to be expanded to include:
* people counting out over $200 in cash (small bills) and change to pay, then writing a check to cover the difference
* at one of only two checkout lanes open
* with apparently a newish clerk who was very careful and methodical (read: slow)
* at a candy aisle
The Final Meltdown.
It was over a package of Gummy Bears.
"THAT'S IT!" I shrilled, "NO CANDY! NO MORE CANDY EVER! And one more thing...if either of you starts a sentence with the words 'I want' before bed tonight? I WILL LET SANTA IN THE HOUSE!"
They stared at me, shocked; what kind of sadistic mom threatens her kids with Santa...in the house?
Back up the truck a second. When Patience was three she decided to reject the entire fallacy of Santa.
Follow her logic:
1. A big fat man cannot fit in a chimney.
2. Mommy and Daddy would not let a big fat man in their chimney because the rule is clear: no strangers, jolly cheeks and bowl of jelly bellies or no, in the house.
However, on the off-chance that Santa was real---and everyone around her seemed quite convinced of this---she had a few stipulations about the entire Santa experience:
1. He may bring her gifts.
2. However, the aforementioned gifts must be left on her patio in a civilized fashion, preferably in daylight, when Mommy and Daddy are home to sign for them (Santa in a UPS truck?).
3. If the above is unacceptable, Santa may ship the gifts and Mommy and Daddy can sign for them (Elf in a UPS truck?).
4. If shipping trucks do not run in the North Pole---is the ice and snow and cold an inhibiting factor, Mommy?---then (big sigh) she'll just do without.
Miss Patience regrets (she's unable to accept gifts today).**
Our compromise: Santa would take the gifts to Grandma's house. Grandma knows Santa (Santa in the AARP?) so it's okay if he goes to her house. We'll go over and get the gifts from her house.
And we did.
However, each year, she reminds all and sundry about The Santa Rules. This year, I heard her reminding Jon.
"Daddy, we're not letting That Stranger in our house this year, are we?" she asked, referring once again to Santa.
"Uhh, no, of course not," replied her dad.
"Good," she said firmly, "Not, of course, that I'm worried. I mean, Santa's silly. You can't expect anyone to believe everyone's okay with some stranger coming down the chimney once a year. Anyway flying around the world and going down chimneys to deliver toys would take magic, and magic isn't for real. It's just silly. Nobody can know who's naughty or nice all the time, anyway. Unless he's God. And of course Santa's not God. Or we'd call him God, not Santa."
GULP.
At five.
But HA HA HA HA HA HA HA that she did it to Dad. I can laugh because I'm mean like that.
So there we were in line and I had just threatened my kids with Santa, after forbidding them to say 'I want.'
And what happened?
I hear, "Julie? Is that you?"
Oh how I wish I could have been the calm, cool, collected, pulled-together mom rather than a great billboard for birth control. Oh how I wish I could have chatted with this nice lady. Instead, she beat a slightly hasty retreat from the crazy lady riding herd on deranged lunatics.
And that, my friends, is my biggest peeve of all: being the crazy lady. For, I think, fairly obvious reasons.
* Princess Bride. Now you can laugh.
** Miss Otis Regrets (She's Unable to Lunch Today). Cole Porter. Now you can laugh.
So...what peeves and tales did others have?
Some music for your listening pleasure (completely pertinent---an excellent theme song for me right now):
P.S. Feel free to suggest topics for future Hump Day Hmms.
Copyright 2007 Julie Pippert
Also blogging at:
Using My Words
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Comments
ummm....let's just plan not to meet up IRL, jp, because you would be driven crazy by me. okay, baybay?
Thanks for the laugh.
Blessed be! Life is good.
Rebecca
And the rest of the trip just reminded me of this. You've probably already seen it, but it always cracks me up. And usually it makes me feel better because, well, my kids don't usually (usually, key word) make THAT big of a scene.
"I want"...argh...right up there on my list, too. And I hate, hate, hate how all the stores have candy and other junk at kid level at check-out.
Heidi
Have a good day. See you soon. Kellan
And I LOVE Princess Bride! Alamo Drafthouse here in Austin has a PB quote party. Awesome!
1. Christmas season begins before Thanksgiving.
2. Christmas music about 6 weeks before Christmas.
2. Old timer hockey players who skate like hot dogs around us novices during the lunch hour free skate.
a) I love the book The Princess Bride (the film is good too)
b) I love Cole Porter songs, especially when Ella Fitzgerald sings them.
OK, now I have to go think of a few peeves you didn't already list.
Also...mocking the fun? Amen, my friend.
I don't know how you do it.
I thought the line about Santa was a typo at first...funny, that kid of yours.
And while I recognize many grammatical errors, I can't be too hard on the people who use them because every other word out of my sloppy little girl pie hole is "like." And that's annoying.
I love the Santa rules!
Wright
www.igottatheory.blogspot.com
I agree with a lot of your points, especially the one about people talking on their phones - I once had to endure a woman screaming down the phone at her ex-husband over custody, in a packed train, for one.hour!
Katie @ A Byootaful Life
I think I'm pretty safe as your peeves go, but I will confess to an occasional intentional mispronunciation of words for fun. For example, I like to talk about averting a "cat ass trophy," and I've been known to call the item that gauges the temperature a "therm-oh-meter." Don't you mock my fun!
Oh, and boys with pants hanging off their behinds drive me batty, too. There's a video (on a DVD my daughter likes) that I can't even bear to watch that has a guy dancing around with his pants apparently defying gravity. I must turn away or skip to the next song when it comes on.
i love that kid.
That is absolutely hilarious!
(really, she has some valid concerns)