We’re in the midst of doing some emergency remodeling on our house. And it’s not the “good” kind of remodel that I imagine rich people do when they finally build that dream kitchen with the built-in sub zero and the pantry that doubles as a sauna. I’m talking about the, “Wait. Was our carpet always this… soggy?” sort of remodel.
So I’ve been forced to spend significantly less time doing anything other than pulling up ancient carpet and probably unearthing some long-dormant airborne lung disease that will finally take me down. Suffice to say, I’m not in the best of moods. Which brings me to this listicle.
Misery, I’d like you to meet, Company.
Reasons We Can Never Be Friends:
1. When you watch Westworld, you root for the robots.
Look, I get it, they have intriguing back-stories and they clearly got the oppressive, shitty end of the stick. But whenever I inadvertently activate Siri on my phone and she says, “I’m sorry, I didn’t get that,” my asshole tightens.
2. You have children.
Hang on. I should clarify. It’s not that you have kids exactly. I don’t object to the having of children in the abstract. Well… I do, but that’s more about my belief that people — generally — are terrible and since kids are just very small people, ipso-facto if you wait around long enough, there’s a decent chance they too, will be terrible.
And before you start accusing me of hating kids, just because I’d rather severe my own thumb with a spork and staple it to my forehead than attend your one year-olds birthday party, doesn’t mean I hate kids.
Okay, I guess it is because you have children.
Also, population control…
3. In order to “honor” the 4th of July, you’re planning to pillage a circus tent full of pyrotechnics. You will then drink beer and light them on fire. You will laugh when someone’s face, hair or appendages melt … even your own.
4. At some point, you’ve said something like: “I don’t watch television. And rarely do I go to the Cinem-uuh. I prefer the The-at-Tuuuh.”– You hold that last syllable the way I do when I’m imitating an arrogant twit (I mean that in the nicest, most British way, possible).
5. You are offended by everything at all times. Including me.
By the way, this offends me.
6. You believe everything you read or hear.
7. You bashed my ankle with a shopping cart at Safeway last Tuesday and then acted like you didn’t even notice the small, sobbing woman crumpled on the floor in front of the pickles.
8. You’re standing behind me at the Redbox and your looming figure in my peripherals is causing me undue anxiety.
You just sighed impatiently. I’m not even concentrating on the movie titles right now. I suddenly can’t read.
What sort of movies do I like? What’s my favorite color? Where am I?!!
You couldn’t possibly need a movie badly enough to wait for me to complete my entire panic attack. Once this sequence of events starts, you just have to let it finish …Might as well go play some lotto or buy a Starbucks. When the sweating subsides and I’ve panic-chosen the remake of “Flatliners,” you’ll know I’m done.
9. The tires on your truck are taller than me.
10. You leave your dog in the car when it’s over 68 degrees outside and you have no idea that DOGS DON’T SWEAT. Or you know, but you reeeeally need to leave your dog in the car while you get a pedicure.
11. You’re an idiot.
12. After reading an article on Medium you clap. ONCE.
HAVE YOU NO SENSE OF DECENCY?!!
Whatever. I’ll take your single clap. Please proceed.
13. While I’m out for a run, you slowly follow me in your car for two blocks. Turns out, you just want to ask me for directions — even though I’m obviously super busy trying to survive an aerobic activity!
But it’s fine. Please allow me to stop my personal record-setting pace and pull out my ear buds, just so I, through gasping breath, can point you in the direction of the NEAREST. FUCKING. ARBY’S.
14. You willingly drink something called “Port,” and keep telling me to try it.
Speaking of port, to whomever decided to ferment grape-flavored Jell-O: thank you for providing undeniable proof that rich people would drink septic tank run-off if you put it in fancy bottles and charged enough for it.
15. You sit in the coffee shop and play games on your phone at ear shattering decibels, while also monopolizing the primo table in the corner that would be perfect for someone who might need to actually accomplish something meaningful (like writing a personal diatribe about their completely justified pet peeves)!
16. You’re the barista who made my soy latte with very little soy milk and waaaay too much coffee. I understand that mistakes happen but, DO I LOOK LIKE A HIPSTER TO YOU?! I don’t have bangs and I’ve never owned a pair of skinny jeans. If I enjoyed sipping hot dirt water, I’d order your house brew.
17. You’re optimistic. Ewww. Gross. Get away.
18. The last time you laughed at yourself…
…oh, sorry. It was just gas.
19. At some point, you’ve been my boss.
20. You keep trying to sell me on the magic of yoga, meditation or positive thoughts. Go join a cult, Lucifer.
21. You’re obsessed with being an adult and shaming anyone who doesn’t live up to your very specific definitions of adulthood. And you’re a doodie face.
22. You tell people what they want to hear, even when it’s wrong.
23. You can’t tell when I’m joking. Even when I tell you “I’m joking.”
And no, I’m not joking.
Or am I?! MUUUHAHAHAHA!
24. You don’t like animals.
25. When you fuck up, you can’t admit it.
Yes, it sucks to be wrong. No one enjoys it. That I know of.
Hmmm… now that’s an interesting idea . What if you actually liked being wrong? Shit. I don’t know about you, but my life would be fucking UH-MAZING if I enjoyed making mistakes. Everyday would be an excuse to celebrate my abject failure!
Geesus. I think I just discovered the cure for my depression.
And you thought I just needed to meditate…silly.
26. And finally: you’re the contractor who said my new flooring would be done in “two weeks”.
You should be a comedian because I can’t stop laughing.
Or maybe I’m just hysterical from the paint fumes.