Keep to the right, and other rules you insist upon breaking.

Keep to the right.  That's not too hard, is it?  Walk on a busy sidewalk out here on the Left Coast and tell me what you see.  People are walking directly at other people because they've decided to make their own lanes. Just like driving here in the good old US of A, walking requires you to keep right to ensure a smooth flow of traffic.  Yet, I see those who have chosen to pretend they are in England and walk on the left and right into my face.  Get the fuck out of my way.  Plain and simple.  If you notice you are quickly approaching someone with a crash imminent, move!  I'll bet you're on the freaking left!  Along those lines, walking four or five abreast is just plain rude and you know it.  Two across is the unwritten maximum for pedestrian safety.  It's almost impossible to carry on a conversation with someone who is 3-4 bodies away from you, so what's the purpose in walking like the Jets approaching the Sharks to rumble?  It's not West Side Story and you aren't in a gang.  Walk in pairs, it's how God meant it to be...think of the Ark then next time you are compelled to stretch out across the the entire sidewalk preventing the rest of us from passing you.
There are unwritten rules in our society and you must follow them, it's not a choice.  Let's discuss the "I go, you go" rule, shall we?  When you are at a 4-way stop, take turns.  I go, you go.  Not follow the leader till someone is kind enough to stop and allow people going in the other directions to have a turn.  Where the hell did you learn how to drive?  Maybe it's because you took the driving test in Korean?  There are no excuses for being rude, and not taking turns is rude as hell.  Should we check with your kindergarten teacher to see if she neglected to teach that lesson?
Following the thought of taking turns, how about waiting your turn?  When you are at Costco and the store d'oeuvres are tempting you to dash to each and every table for a bite to eat, slow down.  Chances are, there's an actual line formed and you are obligated to go the END of it.  Don't pretend you don't speak English or have no knowledge of this rule while you jump in front of me.  I may want some redneck dim sum, too.  Samples are just that, they aren't a means to buck the welfare system and feed your gigantic family.  You chose to breed like a rabbit, buy your children food.  Undoubtedly, you are the same person who will walk right in front of me while I am waiting in line at a department store, a movie theater, or anywhere else a formal line exists.  When I make a nasty comment about being invisible or you being a moron, don't ignore me.  Apologize for being an ass and make your way behind me where you belong.
Another one that sticks in my craw, is the blatant dismissal of the "out before in" rule.  Whether it be an elevator or the front door of Starbucks, the person leaving goes first.  Almost every day I am faced with some asshole in a rush to go nowhere who will nearly plow me down as I am leaving a store.  I'm sorry, did you not see me?  I may not be a Sasquatch, but I'm no wallflower.  You had to notice me opening the door making my egress.  The person leaving has already completed their business and so has the right of way.  I promise you I won't dilly dally in the doorway, I walk fairly fast.  But dammit, it's my turn not yours.
Speaking of doors, how hard is it to hold the fucking thing for a few seconds for the person behind you?  Are you so important or busy that you've completely forgotten your manners?  I'm sure your mother taught you this one.  Nothing is more frustrating than approaching a door a few steps behind someone else and having it slam in your face right as you reach the doorway because some jackass dropped it instead of holding it open.  For Christ's sake, this is the eptiome of disrespect.  Especially when you do it to me.  I know it's 2012, but I'm still a woman and as such, I'd like you to show me proper respect.  Hell, I'm a human being and I don't like the door slammed in my face!
I'm noticing a trend here...many of these offense involve some form of walking.  So, on that note, what is supposed to happen at a green arrow?  I know, I know!  The car in that lane gets to make a turn!  That's what is supposed to happen...yet some ass clown will inevitably pull the pedestrian card and start walking across the street as you are in the process of making that very legal turn.  What the fuck?! Do you have a death wish?  Maybe you see my Lexus and assume I must have great insurance, let's do the accident dance.  Learn the rules of the road, even if you are walking, you HAVE to follow them.
Holy hell, another walking offense.  I only really notice this when I am on vacation, but it isn't to say that it doesn't happen all year and all over the country.  If you see someone with a camera poised to take a photo, walk behind them.  Common courtesy tells us that we are not welcome in a stranger's photo so we probably shouldn't walk in front of their camera. So many people just trot themselves right in front of someone's lens as though it's perfectly fine to either join in the fun or interrupt them rudely. Good Lord!  These are also the same people that will walk right between a couple walking together.  If people have chosen to walk together, it's for a reason.  Sometimes it's companionship, plain and simple; sometimes it's because they are going to the same place and would like to arrive together; maybe they are trying to locate a place and are assisting each other along the journey.  Whatever the reason, walk the fuck around them. If that same couple was sitting together on a train, would you squeeze your ass between them?  I hope to hell you wouldn't!
Let's stay outside for one more moment and talk about assigned parking.  I live in a planned development where owners are assigned a parking spot.  We PAY for the privilege of having this covered place to park.  For the rest of you, there is guest parking and street parking.  It completely frosts my cookies to come home from work to find some butt munch parked in MY spot.  Short of going door to door in order to find you, I'm stuck either seeking out alternative parking or leaning on my horn in the hopes you hear it and realize the error of your ways.  You never do, though.  Lucky for me, my daughter loves composing nasty little notes to leave on your window.  Unlucky for you, I've since contacted the management company who has informed, no scratch that, encouraged me to call the towing company to have your ass removed.  Next time, I will.
One more thing...cover your goddamn mouth when you sneeze.  There is something so disgusting about a grown ass person sneezing out into my atmosphere without even attempting to block the spray of spit and snot.  There is never going to be a time when I want your filthy germs.  EVER.  I work very hard at not getting sick.  All I am asking you to do is cover your gaping maw when you sneeze.  When it happens in a restaurant, and it does, I always scream directly at the offender, "Are you friggin kidding me right now???"

 

Are you an attention whore? Not sure...let's find out.

Attention whores are just as bad as their counterparts, real whores.  There's nothing more annoying than that one friend who absolutely HAS to be the center of attention.  Not content to laugh at someone else's joke, oh no, she has to tell one of her own.  By one, I mean several.  Never to be outdone, this chick does everything in gross quantity.  She's the 40 year old shopping in the junior section in Macy's, checking out shirts you wouldn't let your teenage daughter wear. She's the woman wearing more makeup at 8am than you'd wear to a club at 11pm.  That loud cackle you hear across the supermarket aisle, is likely to be her.  You noticed her, didn't you?  That's her intention.  The need to be noticed is so strong in this one, YOU feel embarrassed to be around her.  You may even feel embarrassed for her.  Guess what, she never feels shame.  Go ahead, insult her, you'll see.  So full of herself and her opinion of herself, she goes through life unscathed by your words...or mine. 
We've all seen her on Facebook or Instagram.  The photo frenzy is nonstop.  Self-portraits are her specialty.  The poses are hilarious, but she doesn't think so.  She thinks she's sexy.  And she expects you to tell her so.  Which is why she posts those pics in the first place with catchy little phrases attached to them.  She sits, poised by her keyboard, waiting for your responses.  I imagine she probably counts the number of comments she gets per post.  When there aren't enough, and you'll notice this, she posts more and more until she gets the volume of response she is seeking.  She doesn't necessarily want your opinion, no, she wants kudos and accolades.  Tell her how clever she is, how beautiful, how smart.  Oh, and by you, I mean your husband.  She wants male applause. 
This is the woman who makes all women look vapid and ridiculous.  She will ask for help with something she is fully capable of doing just to get attention.  If you can do it yourself, just do it!  The helpless female thing went out with the barefoot and pregnant thing...let it go.  Don't set the rest of us back several decades because you want to be noticed...your need for external validation is not mine, I don't want the backlash from it.  I didn't go to college to be treated like a dipshit.  My intelligence is a point of pride for me.  Don't ruin it by asking a man to help you choose a hammer in Lowe's.  Pick it up, can you lift it?  Yes?  Buy it, dumb ass. 
The attention whore is not a dumb woman.  She knows exactly what she is doing, it's premeditated.  I'll go so far as to say that she plans her moves way ahead of their actual execution.  How else does she have the perfect outfit for the task?  You don't believe it was purely accidental that she showed up at OSH wearing those leggings I love so much, high heels, and makeup applied with paintbrushes and shovels, do you?  The hope is for several male employees to come rushing over to assist the "little lady" with her manly shopping needs. Good Lord!
Oh look, another beach photo!  My personal favorite because those have to be posed so carefully...wouldn't want us to know you've had children and may have a bit of cellulite or a couple a stretch marks. Ah hell, who am I kidding?!  This woman photoshops the shit out of her pics.  We all know she does, but she thinks she is getting one over on us.  So sad.  Maybe the next time I see one of those shots on Facebook, and it looks like it's been snapped through a filter and retouched by a professional, I should just drop my own comment..."Are you friggin kidding me right now???"

Oh no, camel toe!

Fashion police...where do I join?  So many crimes against my eyes and nature.  We see it everyday, I do comment, yet nobody takes note.  The wave of inappropriate clothing choices crashes over our neighborhoods over and over.  Maybe we are so jaded, we are starting to believe it's normal.  It must stop now!!!
I don't want to have my eyes assaulted each and every time I leave the house.  I have enough trouble with my vision, no help is necessary from the fashion-challenged.  That's the PC term, right?  God knows, I don't want to offend anyone.  As soon as I stop laughing at my own joke, I'll continue here. Offending people is so easy to do.  Let me see how many lives I can touch today.
I don't care what size you wear, leggings are unattractive and inappropriate unless paired with a longer shirt.  I know you think you are sexy as hell and we all deserve a sneak peek at your, ahem, curves.  Thank you, no.  Seeing each and every lump and bump on your body is grossly unappealing to me.  If you are thin, you look like a street walker as you strut down the street in your leggings and cropped top.  If you are overweight, you are basically blinding me. Cover your girlie bits regardless of size and we will all get along just fine.
Wear clothes that reflect the fact that you actually know what size you are and can dress accordingly.  It's summer and I know you want to wear cute tops and shorts.  I am all over that.  Wear your goddamn size!  Nobody wants a viewing of your back fat and muffin top.  Muffin top...this offense takes place all year long thanks to a growing population of folks who actually believe that if you squeeze your lard ass into something 2 sizes too small, it will suck you in like Spanx and make you thin and attractive.  Sorry, it just doesn't work that way.  The fat has to go somewhere.  Oozing like toothpaste squeezed out of a tube, so goes your fat over the top of those too-tight jeans creating a huge Michelin-man-like roll all the way around your waist for all to see.  This same rule applies to shirts.  Yes, a tight t-shirt on a busty girl can be a lovely sight, I can readily admit to that.  That same t-shirt on a Large Marge is like sausage casing and makes me physically nauseated.  If I can count your rolls from 40 paces, your shirt is way too tight. 
Along those lines, get sized for your bra.  Girls, I know this process is uncomfortable at best, and you'd rather have warts removed with a vegetable peeler.  Trust me, I know.  Your bra should fit correctly so it can do its job, holding up your tits.  When your bra is buried in layers of back roll, and your ladies are falling out of the top and sides of those poor cups, it doesn't fit!!!  You aren't doing yourself any favors in the fashion department by wearing a too-tight bra.  Victoria's Secret has nicely created several styles that will create cleavage for you without having to wear a smaller bra.  The girls should rest comfortably inside the cups, not pour out the top.  Ten pounds of shit in a five pound bag is never acceptable.
Ok, deep breath.  One more topic comes to mind, and I must get it off my chest.  Camel toe.  Moose knuckle.  Whatever your little term of endearment is for this grotesque offense, wedgies are wrong!  Your pants should never, ever ride up your vag so high and hard that the whole world can see each labia separately.  In fact, we shouldn't see them at all.  Aside from being uncomfortable at best, painful at its worst, camel toe is disgusting and can be unsanitary.  Oh you know what I am referring to, don't play stupid.  Yeast infections run rampant in chicks who insist on yanking their pants all up in their lady parts.  So guys, when you see this and think, "That's hot", think again.  Think raging discharge and a smell that rivals the worst sewer you've ever encountered.  Bad, dirty, homeless ass smells better.  Yeah, that's hot. 

All I ask, and it's not too much, is that you have a look in the mirror before you leave the house.  One day I'll see you, and you will offend my sensiblilities...and I will be forced to let you know by screaming for all to hear, "Are you friggin kidding me right now???"

Let me transfer you...please, let the next person speak English

Don't take a customer service job if your grasp of English is nonexistent.  There's one thing that can set me off for the entire day, and that is a phone call with someone who doesn't understand me and who butchers the English language.  When I need help with something, whether it be a credit card issue, questions about a product purchase, or to place an order by phone, I expect to be connected to someone in the United States.  I know, what a total racist!  Imagine my surprise, when at least 2/3 of the time, I am listening to someone in outer Mongolia attempting to assist me.  How the hell am I supposed to explain myself to you when you barely understand what I am saying?  Basic English knowledge is not too much to ask when you work for an American company and must speak to AMERICAN people on a daily basis.  How dare you get frustrated with me when I won't repeat myself 75 times, in 64 different ways just so you'll understand me?  I have neither the time nor the patience to translate for you.  It's not my job.  When I ask to be transferred to an English-speaking person, don't get all uppity with me, telling me that you are speaking English and that I am talking too fast, have an accent or whatever the hell your excuse is today.  Put an American on the goddamn phone and find a job that allows you to be mute.
Even in supermarkets, I am faced with border-hoppers at the registers who actually think that everyone SHOULD speak Spanish and have the balls to address me in Spanish. Really?  I may understand you, but I'll never admit to it.  Why should I?  This is the United States of America, not Mexico or Cuba.  When I visit your country, I attempt to address you in your native tongue until you let me know that you speak English, as well. And that's a visit!!!  You live here, make American money at an American job, working for an American company, and you think it's perfectly ok to carry on conversations with your homies in Spanglish while assisting me.  Guess what?!  It's rude. It's the same as whispering.  Only because you think nobody else understands you.  I do, and I know when it's about me.  I've actually called a few of you out on it.  How'd that feel?  When you live in my country, speak my language.
When my relatives came here from Italy, they made every attempt to learn English.  They had to...otherwise, they'd be discriminated against.  It may not have been perfect, but their English helped them survive here. Now, we reward these people by giving them government assistance, making the driving test in their native tongue...are street signs in Tagalog by you, they aren't here...and simply allowing them to exist and thrive without making any attempt at assimilating into our culture.
Living in the United States isn't a right, it's a privilege.  Show some respect, or get the fuck out.  Don't speak to me in any other language BUT English, or I'll say loudly and slowly, so you understand, "Are you friggin kidding me right now???"

Organic or call the exterminator...this NY transplant just can't go green

Going green, sounds very Kermit the Froggish to me.  I love the Earth as much as the next chick, but you cannot expect me to recycle every last scrap of paper I crumble up and toss aside.  It's not in me.  Not to say that I don't try to toss a wine bottle or two or three into the recycling bin the association nicely provides for us, but I have been known to shove cans and junk mail into my coffee grind-filled PLASTIC bag from Safeway and lob it into the giant trash bin.  I come from a family that reused margarine tubs for food storage. Margarine and all the tasty trans and saturated fats you can possibly hold!  No fear of CFCs or whatever the hell else you want me to be afraid of by using the wrong type of plastic in the microwave.  Old wonton soup containers served us just fine for leftover spaghetti that would make great spaghetti pie later in the week.  Now you'd tell me to buy the appropriate Rubbermaid containers with the flex-seal nonsense.  Balls.  My money is better spent elsewhere.  Notice I haven't grown an extra set of ears or turned bright yellow from all the chemicals you claim are in the plastics I've used all my life.
Organic just plain fucking scares me.  Fruit and vegetables that look like they've been kicked and tossed across the store just don't appeal to me.  They are not shiny and beautiful, nor do they attract my eye.  Let's discuss the amount of bugs crawling around in those all natural, organic, free-range nasty veggies you swear by, shall we?  Once, I decided to give it a go and bought some organic cauliflower from Whole Foods.  Yes, Whole Foods, I know...the smell of acidophilus and granola is overwhelming.  While attempting to wash and chop the head of cauliflower I noticed something gray moving around.  Upon closer inspection, I found it to be an aphid.  OK, I rinsed it off thinking, "It DID come from the dirt."  And I continued, rinsing more and more of those nasty little bastards down my drain.  I cut the cauliflower in quarters to more closely inspect this potential dinner item.  It was crawling with bugs!!!!  Fuck that noise.  There was no way to rescue this meal.  I tossed that nasty, dirty, filthy, vermin-infested organic produce into the plastic Whole Foods bag it came in, and ran to the dumpster to get rid of the pests.  Even I know that ladybugs eat aphids, so you natural farmers out there, take note!!!  I didn't ask you to spray pesticides since I know it offends your sensibilities...why, I don't know.  Give me chemicals any day over insects in my food.
Keeping on point, what the hell is hemp clothing? And moreover, why the hell would you want to wear it? Isn't rope made from hemp?  What would you want to put that itchy shit on your body?  What purpose does it serve?  Isn't cotton natural enough for you?  Cotton grows out of the ground, it comes from dirt...you hippie freaks loves your dirt and bugs. Wear cotton.  And shave your legs, this is not Europe.  We don't embrace furry appendages here.  And your pits.  Hairy pits are just wrong...and they stink.  Don't believe for a second that using that crystal blob from Toms of Maine is going to mask that odor, my friend.  Hair traps odor, pure and simple.  Grab yourself a chemically-loaded, biologically engineered clinical strength Secret antiperspirant and slather it on, my green friend.  Science is there to help you, allow it.
And don't ask me to hug a tree, are you friggin kidding me right now???

The whine of the stay-at-home mom is ear-piercing

Let me begin by telling you, I have total respect for your choice to stay at home and raise your own children. Nothing pisses me off quite like the breeders who pop them out left and right and expect day cares to raise them because they can't seem to prioritize their own children.  However, and here's where I expect to piss off at least half of the people I know, once you have made that choice, embrace it.  Don't bitch to me.  I've been in your shoes and loved every minute of it.  I'd do it again in a heartbeat if my old ass ovaries could cooperate. My house was always clean, laundry never piled up, I shopped on an as-needed basis instead of doing the mad Costco stock-up, I exercised regularly, cooked every night, and yes...was able to take my child out every day, whether to the park or for a walk, but always something.  I played with her, read to her, took way too many photos...and now you are wondering, is Wonder Woman typing this?  No, just someone who embraced her decision.
All too often I hear griping and moaning from women who have made the same choice I did years ago.  "My laundry is piled up to the ceiling", "I have to run to the market, Target, pharmacy...again!", "If I have to vacuum this house one more time, I'll pull all my hair out", "How can my husband possibly expect a clean house when I have to take care of this needy, screaming child?"  What the fuck?  It's not that hard.  You used to work once.  You knew how to manage your time. You had deadlines. What happened?  Days didn't get shorter since childbirth.  Babies nap, kids play.  Plan your freaking day accordingly.  Don't tell me you don't have enough time.  I will not listen when you tell me that your day is far too hectic and you couldn't possibly get it all done.  Bullshit. The time you spend on Facebook, You Tube, and playing Farmville, Wheel of Fortune, Texas Hold 'Em, watching soap operas, and fuck knows what else is wasted!  The clock does not stand still when you decide you NEED to check your email one more time or check your farm. This is not to say you don't deserve breaks.  We all do, but a break is a limited amount of time, not the entire day.
I went back to work when my daughter was four and none of my responsibilities went away.  I still do the lion's share of the cooking and all of the cleaning. My time IS limited. My days did get shorter with respect to the amount of time I have to accomplish all the same tasks you do.  I made a choice, too.  A choice to be productive outside the house as well as inside.  I'm not gloating or waving my employed flag in your face.  I'm simply saying that what you claim to be impossible, as you sit in your sweats, hair up in a ponytail, face devoid of makeup, glued to your laptop screen, telling the world how hard you have it through your Facebook statuses...may actually be offensive to those of us who have been in your shoes and know that it ain't rocket science.
While I advocate keeping it real, and leaving the sugar-coating off...bitching about your lot in life, while some people only dream of being able to stay home with their kids, but financially cannot do it...pushes even me over the edge.
The next time you post a status on Facebook bemoaning your housework, and I know for a fact you have all goddamn day long to do it...expect my comment to be, "Are you friggin kidding me right now???"

Chew with your mouth closed, table manners are NOT optional

Does this offend you, too?  The sight of someone's partially chewed food bouncing around their mouth for all to see and enjoy.  The sounds of chomping and smacking so loud, you are forced to jam a finger in the ear closest to the guilty party. Now I realize there can be extenuating circumstances, such as a raging cold that blocks you from breathing any other way but through your mouth.  But, for the most part, there are no valid excuses for chewing like a farm animal.  There is nothing preventing you from pressing your lips together while you chew.  It's horrifying these days to go to a restaurant and see someone's teenage daughter wrangling her food around her mouth like she's afraid her lips may actually touch!  Somehow, it's so much worse to watch a girl behave like a slob at the table.  Before you go huffing and puffing and shouting about how boys can display exemplary table manners and it's just as offensive to see a boy act like a pig...hear me out.  Over the years, we've all come to expect slightly more gregarious dinner behavior from the male species.  Don't deny it.  You even have blown off such poor manners using the time-worn, "boys will be boys" blather.  I get it.  Which is why, when I see a girl, wearing more makeup than Lady Gaga, hair straightened to within an inch of its poor unhealthy life, dressed like she may be hitting the clubs after this meal, eating like a caveman...I am completely horrified.

Keeping to the topic, it's not just loud and cavernous chewing that grosses me out.  Use your utensils the way they were intended.  Your fork is not a pitchfork, your spoon is not a shovel, and your knife is not a garden hoe used for dragging your food across the plate. Seeing someone hold their fork in their fist, while shoveling food into their gaping maw is probably the most vomit-inducing sight.  People who refuse to put the spoon into their mouths and prefer the "suck it across the atmosphere" technique should probably never leave the privacy of their own homes. Your mouth is equipped to only hold the proper amount of food that is easily chewed.  This means, for those of you who enjoy the chipmunk style of eating, one fork or spoonful at a time!  Once that bite is in there, you may NOT add more food to the pile.  I don't ever want to see food shrapnel just so you can fill your cakehole to bursting.  Sandwiches are not two bite items.  Watching you shove half of a sub into your yap makes me gag.

How can I forget drinking?!  Cups are wonderful little items, so easy to use.  Yet some people can't seem to grasp the proper usage while drinking. A friend of mine likes to reference gravity when talking about drinking, so I'd like to steal that for use here.  Yes, gravity is your friend.  Tip that cup at your lips and watch the magic unfold.  The liquid pours down.  Easy as pie, right?  Oh no, not to some.  Slurping and suctioning the coffee, soda, arsenic...whatever your drink of choice...across the surface of the liquid and into your mouth is a sound that literally makes my teeth hurt.  Probably from clenching them so tightly as you gear up for next ear-shattering slurp. 

Is it asking too much when I say, keep it closed, keep it quiet, keep it neat?  If you can't manage this, and many of you cannot...I've seen and heard it...I will comment loudly enough for you to hear over your repulsive table manners, "Are you friggin kidding me right now?!?!?"