Things That Make Me Mad
OK, so this is a ranty page!! I shall detail for you all the things that wind me up, irritate me or just burn my ass a bit.
- People who watch a movie with you but talk all the way through it. Men do this. Alot.
- Being in the car and listening to a song you like quite loudly and then having whoever you are with suddenly hit the ‘Att’ button or talk to you when you know it can wait a few minutes until after the song.
- Women who walk, WALK on treadmills. I mean come on, if you just want to walk, go and walk outside.
- The woman over the road who can’t drive for shit and always makes me keep an eye on Mr Ex’s car when it’s parked outside and she’s trying to parallel park behind it. What I really love about this one is that she clearly can’t drive very well, she clearly has poor eyesight and yet she has big and I mean A4 sized stickers and posters in her back windcreen – what the fuck?!
- Men who take longer to get ready than me. Now I know that this one may be unfair, because I don’t take all that long to get ready (as long as I’ve already bathed and stuff) I take about 20 minutes to do my hair, 5 minutes to get dressed, 5 minutes to put some make up on and two minutes to decide what shoes to wear. Now if ANY bloke takes longer than 32 minutes to get ready to go out, then keep on walking buddy.
- Women who take ageeeeeeeeeeeees to get ready. My friend Maisie takes ages and ages and ages and ages to get ready to go out. It’s so boring waiting for her that I would rather prise my eye out with a teaspoon than get ready at her place with her. I will get ready at my place, you get ready at yours and meet me at the bar at 8pm thankyou very much.
- Men at the gym who do weights and look like a pair of legs with an upside down triangle on top with a head on top of that. Why do guys think that is sexy to women?! I prefer muscular legs on a man than a six pack, and find a rippling tummy and muscly chest quite a turn off. Why can’t men look like men and be happy with that? Whilst we’re on the subject, I don’t care if you can benchpress however many kilos, I even don’t care if you can pick me up and lift me up above your head, whilst doing an irish jig. Can you keep up with me on a 3km run on a cool crisp Sunday? No? Didn’t think so.
- People who touch me. OK, this is one that I can’t stand. In Dirty Dancing, Jonny says to Baby “This is my dance space, that is your dance space, I don’t go into yours, you don’t go into mine” I have this thing with personal space. I’m not one to hug my friends all the time, and I really can’t stand when someone I don’t know touches me. This guy once pinched my bum in a nightclub. I tipped my drink on his shirt. People I know and trust can grab me all they want. I have one friend who loves to grab my boobs. I always tell him, “help yourself, love, and don’t mind me” But if I don’t know you – back off.
- People who are rude to people in shops. Everybody has a job to do, and everybody needs to respect each other’s jobs. I hate it when I see some self righteous jackass huffing and puffing at the checkout lady and being funny with her because he thinks he is more important or more intelligent than her because she works in a shop. I always see people like this when I go to my favourite chip shop. It’s about 10 miles from my house and there are 10 chippies that are closer, but it’s worth the journey, and why people go in there and get rude I don’t know.
- I hate when people shout at their kids for getting dirty. I encourage my children to get as dirty as they like. I have a washing machine, and I don’t care if they jump in big puddles or get covered in mud. I just want them to smile at every possible opportunity. It’s my job to worry about the dirt and about their safety. It’s their job to be children and enjoy themselves.
- Idiots who wear their bluetooth or otherwise hands free phone kits when not in the car. Yeh, in case someone really really REALLY important is going to call. I’m in Asda, but the bluetooth headset is on in case Kylie rings about that hot date. Idiots.
- People who seem to think they can comment on my eating. There are times when I’m not hungry and I don’t fancy a big dinner. Deal with it. But most of all – there are times when I go out for dinner and I am hungry. I can put away a large cod and chips with the best of them. I like to have prawn crackers with my chinese, a naan with my indian and I even like to order a starter sometimes. When I go out for breakfast, sometimes I want to have three hash browns with my veggie sausages, eggs, toast, beans and tomatoes. And I fucking hate it when someone tells me “Oooh, you’ll get fat”. Fuck you! I’ve been on a diet for a year and a half, dipshit. I weigh less than 9 stone. How much do you weigh?! I run 25k a week and sometimes more. How far can you run?! If I want to eat a big dinner, I fucking well will. When I was with The Tosser, I weighed about 10 stone which is a stone more than I do now, but I wouldn’t say I was fat, and he used to tell me it was ’un-ladylike’ for me to eat seconds, and that he’d noticed I’d put on some weight. What a knobcheese he was. I don’t eat like a horse - far from it – and I’m NOT fat, but if I’m hungry, I’m eating. End of. I like to think that a real man would find it cute. Having said that, I think I hate real men.
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