Monday, January 2, 2012

Things That Kinda Bother Me

By now, you guys probably think I'm a bitter, angry bitch with a cold, cold heart. I'm not saying I'm not, but I do tend to write more about things I dislike than about things I like. What can I say? There's nothing particularly funny about liking something.

Here are some (more) things that irritate me:

Childish Pajamas

A couple of days ago I went shopping for a pair of pajamas. I didn't think this was gonna be a big ordeal. I said to myself, "I'm going to go into the shop, find a pair of pajamas, and buy them." I thought this might take me about twenty minutes, counting time at the check-out.

Then I get to the shop and find that all the f*cking pajamas have cartoon characters on them. Snoopy. Garfield. Cinderella. Mickey Mouse. Spongebob F*cking Squarepants.

Now, listen here, Corporate America, I am damn near thirty years old. I am not wearing Spongebob Squarepants pajamas. The stupidity would keep me awake.

Then, I found some that looked like this...

...because if you're not seven, you're apparently eighty-five.

I guess I'm supposed to go to bed wearing this...

(Tranquil Garden)

...despite the fact that a) I am planning to sleep, not have sex and b) if I were planning to have sex, I wouldn't bother with the sexy nightie because you know it wouldn't stay on anyway.

They have a way of mysteriously falling off.

Fictional Characters with Really Nice Homes

It's always bothered me when fictional characters have nicer homes than I do, which is always. It's not fair. They're not even real.

But then again, I guess the homes aren't real either. And you can totally tell, because they're always really nice homes. Like, way nicer than the homes of anyone I know. It's like we're supposed to identify with all of these characters on television and in the movies, despite the fact that they're much, much wealthier than us and have soft, pink little girl hands on account of never having worked a day in their lives.

Damn you, Ferris Bueller.

Women Who Aren't Feminists

No offense, ladies, but I don't understand how you can be a modern woman and not be a feminist. Whether you're a career girl, a single mom, a housewife or all three, somehow, it doesn't matter. Your ancestors and peers have fought hard so that you could choose your own lot in life and not be seen as a piece of property. Saying you're not a feminist is like saying you're a piece of livestock, only worse, since even animals have rights.

I've always wondered if women who claim they're not feminists are actually just afraid of scaring their men. I can't find another explanation.


Mangagement Rings

That is, engagement rings for men. As in you, a woman, are expected to get down on your cute little knee, whip out a jewelry box and propose f*cking marriage.

If you really wanna scare your man, this would be a good way, ha ha ha.

Believe me, it feels a bit weird to put this entry right after the entry about feminism, but I'm going to do it anyway. I've been out of the country for a few years and I only just heard about this. It freaked me out a little bit. I mean, sure, plenty of other cultures encourage the men to wear engagement rings as well as the women, and in any cause I suppose there's no way around it if you're gay, but this is the United States of America, where we say one thing and do another. Feminism is all well and good, but offering the marriage proposal is the man's job, cause if we ladies started doing it, well, you'd see a lot more random sprinters, that's what.

You might say, “Fair's fair, and if I have to wear one, he should too.” Have it your way, but I see through this engagement ring business. They made this sh*t up to sellmore diamonds during the Depression. It's about as ancient a tradition as sending birthday wishes on Facebook.

Personally, I'm planning to get married in Vegas, whilst drunk, by an Elvis impersonator. I don't wear rings, and you know I can't get away with wearing white. Besides, I hate weddings.

But give me a funeral any day of the week.