Perpetually Peeved

I’ve got a bridge…

The world is full of people selling crap.  More inconceivably, the world is full of people willing to buy it.  A friend of mine from across the pond sent an email asking if Silly Bandz was really as much of a craze as a BBC article was making it out to be.  The answer: yes, my friend, unfortunately it is.  There are Silly Bandz, Bandyz, Funny Bandz, Zany Bandz, Googly Bandz, Crazy Bandz, ad nauseam. 


Who cares if they are RUBBER BANDS that serve no function?  Who cares if they come in shapes that take a zoologist, herpetologist and/or Professor of Hieroglyphics to identify them?  Kids love them.  Parents spend $2.00 a pop (minimum) for TEN (10) RUBBERBANDS. 

The worst part?  This isn’t even the stupidest shit people buy.  Have you ever woken up with the sudden urge to buy a: 

Shake Weight? 


Please click and watch the video – freaking perves. 


Remind me to get THIS before my next blog party!


JLo has brainwashed us all...


Please also click for video!


Facial Flex? What the?


It’s an epidemic.  They have entire stores in our malls devoted to things “As Seen on TV.”  Yes, Americans are stupid.  If they see it on TV, they want it.  If a celebrity wears it, they wear it.  If you call it “art” and put a high price tag on it, they’ll have to have it. 

Jesus Christ! (No, really, that's who it is. Jesus, you know, replete with googly eyes and bottle caps.)


This little diorama beauty was going for $65 at the flea market the other day.  

Silly?  Yes.  Funny? Yes. Zany? Yes. Googly? Yes. Crazy? Abso-freaking-lutely! 

Now, what kind of junk can I patent and make millions off of?  Let’s see, they already have cat scratch emery boards, amazingly absorbent towels (how long does it take for THOSE to dry?), haircutting vacuum accessories, magic gravity balls, smokeless ashtrays…  Hey, I got this bridge I’m selling!  You interested?

And the loser is…

Here is what is wrong with our society. Driving in to work this morning, they had a contest on the radio.  In order to win the contest, you had to guess the answer to the following question: 

According to recent poll, besides food & money, what’s the #1 item you’d like a lifetime supply of? 

Hmm... Books? Well, no, because you basically get that at the library. Although, I do loathe to return them (as is evidenced by my $30 overdue balance).

I know, I know!!! SHOES!!!! Yes, please. Third wish on the genie lamp for me... unlimited shoes!

 No?  What else do I need in life besides good books, money, food, and shoes?  I’m stumped!  Okay, let me think what the average person would say…

I got it! Gas. As much as we'd like to hold out hope, I don't anticipate those corn cars going into production anytime soon. And, while we're at it, can I get a little full-service as well?

Not it?  Okay, I guess I’m being too practical.  Let me think more on the level of the average American.  Ah, yes, that’s my problem – I’m not being materialistic enough!

Fancy clothes?


Enough sports cars to make Jay Leno drool? And enough accompanying vanity plates to make John Mayer cry?


...electronic pets? Toys?

No?  Hmm…  well, maybe I’m underestimating people.  What else is not a food, not money, but you would want an unlimited supply of?

BINGO! Skymiles...

... Embassy Suites rewards points?

... Unlimited admission tickets to aquariums, museums, parks and zoos throughout the world?

No?  Okee Dokee, not interested in traveling or learning about nature, other cultures or history. 

I give up.  Please, just tell me.  WHAT would Americans want a limitless supply of besides food and money?

A: Cable TV service! 

Yes, folks.  This is the problem with our society.  Forget A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, these people are only interested in A Potato Grows on the Couch. 

Which, is probably why they sell these at Toys R Us.

Egads, even the Pepto is pink!

The other night, I was taking Smalls into Toys -R -Us to get another Department of Torture Electronic Mini-Operative Zhu Zhu Pet.  Yes, I know they drive me insane, but what drives me more insane is the whining Smalls was doing before I bribed her to stop with another Zhu Zhu Pet.  So, off to the toy store because somehow a child who can “forget” she needs to throw her dirty clothes in the hamper within two seconds of mommy telling her to, can remember an arbitrary promise/bribe that was made weeks ago.

After stopping to pick up some flip flops, a SpongeBob lollipop and a lightsaber, I decided to just ask an associate where the little electric rodents were located.

Me: Excuse me, Sir. Where are the Zhu Zhu Pets? (Because I’m running out of hands and I’m gonna be flat broke by the time I get past the checkout if you leave me to my own devices.)

ToyGuy: They are right over here.  Wait, do you want the girl ones or the boy ones?

Me: No, they’re just hamsters.  I mean, they’re not made for boys or girls.

ToyGuy: The regular ones and the babies are in the girl section, the ones in the boy section are like ninjas and stunt hamsters.

Really? The toy company obviously never met Smalls.  Because, let me tell you, she has a mean drop-kick!



This whole gender segregation is totally out of hand.  If you look at a sales ad for Toys – R – Us, everything associated with “domesticity” is being modeled by girls.  Babies, Barbies, animals, kitchens…  You will never see a boy modeling a kitchen – a grill, maybe, but not a kitchen.  You will also never see a boy with a babydoll.  Just like you will never see a girl playing with a car or a dinosaur.  Even Legos, which should be unisex and universal have segregated the toys to market pink house and horse sets to girls and blue house and helicopter (?) sets to boys.

LEGO® Pink Brick Box (5585) - LEGO® bricks in beautiful colors! Build a house, a pony, or anything else you can imagine with this special box filled with LEGO bricks in colors you love and elements like fences, windows, doors and flowers!

Following the included instructions and using pieces in the starter kit, kids can build a house, helicopter, dog, and car.

This gender segregation continues even as we get older.  Mother’s Day rolls around and what are the ads for?  With the exception of jewelry, most of the wares they are pushing consist of things for the house.  Get Mom a photo apron or a set of coasters.  Buy her a new vacuum, a photo frame, a coffee mug or a cookbook.  And, what to get Dad this year for Father’s Day?  Hmm… grilling tools, a brew-your-own beer kit, fishing gear, golf clubs, power tools…   Actually, they do make power tools for Mom too…  and golf clubs…  and fishing gear…

Just search for “XYZ for women” – I’ll bet you a beer (YES, WOMEN DRINK BEER), it will come up pink.  It’s enough to make a girl nauseated.

Happy Father’s Day to all of you Dad’s out there.  Hope you get a hand painted masterpiece or a nice picture of you with your kids (the kind of stuff you should be getting on this occasion).  Although, I may just get this for my hubby… what do you think?

Do you feel it now?

Why do people insist on trying to sell me stuff I don’t need, don’t want and didn’t ask for?  The Department of Torture has mobilized agents across the country:  telemarketers, alarm salesmen, business consultants, Mediterranean procurers of the fountain of youth ala the Dead Sea, those pesky perfume ladies that make me sneeze just thinking about them, and the people who want me to stick my face in a germ-infested massage table hole so that they can rub me in public.  I. DON’T. WANT. IT.  Why are those four words so hard to understand? 

Me: Take me off your calling list. 

Them: I’m not trying to sell you anything. 

Me: Then why are you calling me?  Are you lonely? 

Them:  No, I just want to tell you about… 


Them:  F you! 

Me: Excuse me?  What did you just say to me? 

Them: [dial tone] 

WTF?  That’s like someone bumping into you and then giving you a dirty look for not saying sorry.  F yourself, buddy. 

This past winter my husband I took a (very romantic) trip to Vegas (Without the kids!  Who the hell brings their children to Vegas?  Another peeve, another post.).  Anywho, while we were in Vegas we realized we never actually needed to see the real sky.  There were wormholes (okay, they were corridors, but I did seem to lose a few hours each time) from one casino to the next.  Very convenient considering that most had those handy-dandy flat escalator thingamabobs too, so you didn’t even have to walk.  Bonus.  Unfortunately, these wormholes seemed to be a breeding ground for bottom-dwelling salesmen.  They were selling everything from kids toys to pieces of fabric that magically turned into a dress, a skirt, a shirt, a bathing suit, you name it. 

My favorite product was the electric massager. If you have ever been to the chiropractor, you most likely have been hooked up to a machine that has little electrodes that they attach to your back.  The electrodes conduct a current into your muscles and it feels like you are getting a massage.  It is the freakiest feeling and I certainly would not be messing around with electric current and my muscles without the supervision of a doctor.  Apparently, they do things differently out West.

Here it is -- Ten's Therapy Massager with Electrodes (

How many times have you dreamed of grabbing the bottle out of the hand of the perfume lady and spraying her in the face whilst screaming, “How do you like it?”  Oh..  that’s just me?  Woopsie.  Where was I?  Yes, okay.  So, we are in Vegas for five days and these people are relentlessly berating us every time we have to go from one place to the next.  On the last night there, we were betting on the horses all day, which is the best way to get the most amount of drinks for the least amount of money.  

On the way back to the hotel, my alcohol-induced ADD strikes and since I have not managed to get a credit card with a breathalyzer on it, I go shopping.  I see this great store with baby onesies that say things like, “Party in my crib, 2 a.m.,” “I drink until I pass out,” and “Mother-sucker.”  Well, it sure beats pig art or a wrinkle-proof hat.  My husband decides to wait for me outside. 

Here is the scene when I finally come out of the store:  there is a salesman standing in front of his kiosk with his shirt unbuttoned to his waist.  There are six opened boxes on the kiosk.  There are twelve electrodes attached all over his hairy chest.  My husband is pressing the buttons of the electronic massagers and saying, “What about now?  Do you feel it now?”  I want to feel embarrassed or appalled, but the only thing going through my mind is, “God, I love this man.” 

Photo courtesy of

Welcome to Starsucks – I mean, Starbucks

I realize that Starbucks is a mecca for douchebags.  That is probably why I find myself inexplicably drawn there on a regular basis.  That, and the fact that they not-so-secretly put in 2x the caffeine of any normal coffee beverage.  Ah, if only I could open a business where I could make the customers physically dependent and actually addicted to my product…  I’ll have to think on that some more later.

I know what you’re thinking –  you know where this peeve is headed… $5 coffees, yada, yada.  No, you’re wrong.  It doesn’t matter these days where you go, a regular old cup of Joe is going to be completely overpriced at $.25 an ounce.  Me pissed off at the corporate-ness of it all?  No, wrong again.  Remember, I’m a PC-free personality.  If you have it and I want it, I don’t really care who had to die/work in a sweatshop/leave their family in another country to make it.

What really pisses me off about Starbucks is the fact that they can’t make a GD coffee lid that does not leak steaming hot coffee all over the place.  I mean, come on people, we have sent astronauts to the moon, have built supsension bridges longer than 5,000 feet and can fit a computer in the palm of our hands.  Surely, there is an engineer out there somewhere that can devise a lid that you don’t have to place at exactly the right angle to prevent your latte from dripping in your lap.  It’s not freaking rocket science!

Another thing — and, I warn you this is pettier than the last — how hard is it to leave me room for cream?  Why, why, why, do I have to constantly dump a half inch of my coffee into the trash?  Surely you don’t want to clean that up.  Even worse is when you ASK me if I want room for cream and still manage to fill it all the way up to the brim.  What the hell did you ask me for then?  This here will throw me into a fit of absolute rage.

If you’re going to make me pay exorbanant amounts of money and force me to order my cup size in some bullshit, brainwashed, corporate-speak, then the least you can do is make my damn coffee right (it’s not like I’m even asking you to put the cream in – heaven forbid).  Maybe, as an added bonus, you could make sure it doesn’t drip down the back of my hand and onto my clothes.  Starbucks, my ass, more like Starsucks.  If I wasn’t so addicted, I would tell you stick a non-fat, no-whip, mocha, venti, chai latte up your… what? Mermaid tail?  Oh, Christ.

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