Perpetually Peeved


Stupid is as stupid emotes :) <3

As promised, a light afternoon snark.

I have a problem with people who are stupid.  I’m not very patient, I hate talking slow and I don’t like to repeat myself.  However, I feel these people really can’t help it.  So, I try not to hold it against them. 

My larger issue comes with people who are not stupid, yet constantly pretend like they are.  Being ditzy or immature does not make you cute.  No one wants to be cute.  Only kittens and children are cute.  God (or, whoever) makes them that way so you won’t kill them when they shit all over the rug and whine until your ears bleed, respectively (unless you have a really bad kitten and a really bad kid – then it would be collectively and, honestly, who would blame you at that point?).

Exhibit A: 

This, dear readers, is the name of a highly educated individual as written on public sign-up sheet.  Okay, an unfortunate pink highlighter was the only writing utensil at the ready – I forgive you.  Please do not try to justify the cutesy – putesy heart dotting the “i” – there is no excuse.   It is not Valentine’s Day.  You are not in fourth grade.  Highlighter pens do not explode and accidentally form heart shapes.

Another thing?  There is a time and place for smiley faces and emoticons.  I like the little winking 😉 one.  It’s kind of snarky and I’m too lazy to press the shift key and the semicolon key at the same time.  Making a comment on a post, fine.  Sending a friend a message, fine.  Saying something that could be taken the wrong way if the recipient doesn’t read sarcasm well, fine.  Adding to the end of a professional email about a business-related matter, not fine.  No way, no how.  If there is something professional that needs to be said, it should be said sans smiley.  If it could be misinterpreted, then you need to rewrite it or have a face-to-face conversation about it.  Because adding a big, dumb 🙂 to the end of an email where you are trying to convey an intelligent message is the equivalent of writing your resume in crayon.

And, how stupid is that?



Gag me with a spoon

Biggie:  Mommy, Granny called you the “B” word.

Peeved:  What? When?

Biggie:  Before, when she took me to the store.  She called you the “B” word.

Peeved:  Well, that’s nice.

Biggie:  No, not THAT “B” word, the other “B” word.

Peeved: What are you talking about?

Biggie:  I can’t say it, it’s a bad word.

Peeved:  Oh, just say it.  You won’t get in trouble, promise.  You get a free pass.

Biggie:  No, it’s a bad word.  You know not “the” bad “B” word, but the “other” bad “B” word.

Peeved:  The one that rhymes with itch?

Biggie:  No, the one that rhymes with ee-otch.  But, you know, has a “B” in front.

Peeved:  My mom called me a beyotch in front of my daughter.

Biggie:  Yep.

Peeved:  Well, you’re right.  That is a bad word.  Granny shouldn’ t have said that.

Biggie:  Well, don’t feel too bad.  She called Aunt Jen one, too.

It’s bad enough that my mother was bad-mouthing me to my daughter, but it is completely unacceptable to do it with an overused, non-sensical term.  Can we just get a permanent injunction put on all of the following phrases, effective immediately:

1. Whatever! (I know I don’t have to explain this one.)

2. Talk to the hand (I’ll give you “talk to the hand” – how about a knuckle sandwich?)

3. You go girl! (Go where?  Long walk, short pier?  Okay, then.)

4. Get down with your bad self (what does this even mean?)

5. Seriously? Seriously? Seriously. (Grey’s jumped the shark when dead people started talking – let it go, people)

6. Amaze-balls (um, gross)

7. That’s what she said (It was maybe funny the first 5 times.  Let’s leave the comedy to the professionals, please.)

8. Chillax (and/or any other made up words floating around out there).

9. 24/7 (Unless you are a 7-11 or WalMart, you don’t need to use this phrase.)

10. Think outside the box (What fucking BOX?????)

11. oh… and…  I think I just threw up in my mouth a little (I cannot believe of all the words in the English vernacular, we have not created one to express this in a more efficient fashion.)

Okay, if a permanent injunction is not a remedy available, can we at least get a “punch a douche free card?”  Thanks, ‘preciate ya!



Three strikes – you’re out!

Department of Torture operatives snuck in through the bathroom window again last night.  Yes, folks, I woke today to Shaggy interviewing some moron about something completely inconsequential to the world at large.  A Brevard County minor league baseball team has changed the name of “batting practice,” which they commonly refer to as “BP.” The team will now be warming up at “Hitting Rehearsal.”  I could not make this up if I tried.  The interview progressed in a fashion such that I got confused and thought maybe I was still sleeping and had started mixing Fox & Friends with Dumb & Dumber in my dream-like state. Here is what I THINK I heard…

Shaggy: So, dumb jock that managed to somehow get a job running a minor league baseball team, Mr. Smith, you are changing the name of “batting practice” to “hitting rehearsal” – what made you come up with this decision?

Smith:  Well, the way it came about was ironic, I was going over the schedule for “BP” and at the same time a news item about the BP oil spill came on.  And, I thought to myself, we need to change the name of batting practice.

Shaggy:  So, you thought that by changing the name of batting practice you could make an impact on…

Smith:  We just wanted to show our support, we are worried about the impact that the oil spill may have on our beaches here in Brevard County.

Shaggy: Now it is “hitting rehearsal” – is that right?

Smith: Yes, we started calling it that today.

Shaggy: [condescending laugh] Do your guys get dressed up for it?

Smith: Huh?

Shaggy: What if a sponsor that had the name “inning” were to be involved in a scandal?  Would you rename that?  Would you call it “passage of time?”

Smith: Well, we just wanted to show our support.  We didn’t take into effect what we would do if a sponsor was involved.  BP is not a sponsor.

Blah, blah, blah, [condescending laugh], yada, yada, yada.

Okay, folks, let’s ignore the tedious, “I’m going to try to make myself look smart by making you look stupid”-ness of  Shaggy.  Let’s focus on the real peeves here… 

STRIKE ONE:

Maybe the guy was too young to remember the Alanis Morrisette lesson in irony.  Pay attention, Mr. Smith: If it was completely random that BP was on the news, if you wouldn’t have expected them to be on the news, then maybe ironic would have been an appropriate descriptor of the situation.  However, BP is so in the news that your ridiculous name change is even making it onto a national broadcast.  Moreover, you manage a baseball team.  It is not an uncommon or unexpected occurence for you to be looking at a line-up for batting practice.  Therefore, “coincidence” is the word you are looking for here, not “ironic.”

STRIKE 2:

Ah, the old, use a phrase with the wrong word.  Forgive the pun, but this drives me absolutely batty.  “Take into effect” is the most nonsensical word misappropriation I’ve heard in a long while.  Pay attention, Mr. Smith: The phrase is “take into account” – it means you didn’t consider it.  Apparently, you didn’t take into account how stupid you would look on national television if you misused a phrase.

STRIKE 3: 

You are the manager for the Brevard County Manatees.  There is a serious environmental and economic matter that is affecting a large portion of your country.  No one gives a shit what you call your batting practice.  Why don’t you do a fundraiser you fecking nimrod?

Off to do some batting practice hitting rehearsal on my TV.  Hope you all have a great day and find it in your heart to donate or do some other helpful piece for the crisis in the Gulf.



Actually, God is a puppy…

The other day, on the way home from school/work, Smalls (my 4-year-old) asked me what God looked like.  So, I tried to give her the line about God being in everything… blah, blah, blah…  hey, I learned how to skip class back in Sunday school.

Me: Wrapping up yada yada speech

Smalls: Yeah, but what does he look like?

Me:  Well, do you think God is a man or a woman?

Smalls:  Actually, I know what God looks like.  God is a puppy.  I saw it on that show – you know, the one with the cat and the mouse.  The cat is gray and white…

Me:  You mean Tom and Jerry?

Smalls:  Yeah, that’s it.  I saw it on Tom and Jerry.  Tom goes to heaven and God is a puppy.

Me:  Glad you’re getting a religious education.

So, this little exchange sparked a thought in my mind (and, made me start singing Joan Osbourne’s song).  You know what really gets me?  When people say they’ve “found God/Jesus.”  Now, I don’t have anything against the sentiment, it’s the semantics that drives me bonkers.  What do you mean you “found” him?  Was he hiding?  Did you look away for a second and he ran into the clothes rack?  Did you get a secret map with an X on it and go on an expedition?  Did you type “Jesus” into your GPS?  Because, it seems to me, if I was “looking” for God or Jesus, first I would go to Google Maps and if that didn’t work, I probably wouldn’t have to go much farther than the local church.  Or, if you live in Small’s world, the local pound.

Love this... am ordering from http://www.DavidandGoliathTees.com right now.



Maybe Momma should have named you Apple…

So, today is my day (me being a mother and all), so I’ll keep this short and sweet.  Okay, not sweet, but short in any case.  Here is the peeve of the day:  people who have a name with a non-traditional spelling that get all pissy when you spell it the conventional way.  One of my nearest and dearest friends has a name spelled with a “y” that is usually spelled with an “i.”  Does she get upset if someone uses the traditional spelling?  No.  Why?  Well, a) because she’s not a fucktard and b) because she usually tells people, “my name is Robyn, with a “y.”

Recently, I worked on a project which entailed sending packets out to roughly 400 people whose name had to be manually written on the cover page.  A lady by the name of Rachael decided that her name being spelled “Rachel” was just too damn much for her and felt the need to write, “You spelled my name wrong!” (yes, exclamation point and all) on the front of the packet before returning it.  Um, first of all, who cares if your name is spelled wrong on a piece of paper that only you and I will see?  Second of all – no, bitch, I didn’t spell your name wrong – your momma did.

Happy Mother’s Day.




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