…and other things that make me hiss with barely-suppressed rage…
Because lists are always fun – unless they’re the never-ending “to-do” kind – here’s a quick ranty post for you. The five things that make me rage and the five things I will never, never understand…
I’m allowed to say this, ’cause I’m not bitter and single! Just bitter!
And, as Dylan Moran puts it, a couple is half as intelligent as its most intelligent member. (Worryingly true, I bet you’ll find…)
You know the kind of couple I mean… the really coupley kind. They’re all walking slowly, stopping to make out in public, then continuing to walk in the same direction… I don’t get it. I kind of want to say to them, “Congratulations, you have found someone to put up with you. But calm down, it probably won’t last.”
What? What?! I wouldn’t actually say it. I just think it, and judge them very hard as I walk by. And for the record, the Boy happens to agree with me, so it’s rare that we’ll indulge in any kind of affection publicly.*
Train stations and airports are allowed though.
*I can’t be held responsible for how affectionate I am when intoxicated though. More on that later, perhaps.
And don’t even get me started on Facebook PDA’s. We have all friends who post sickeningly gushy statuses about their apparently-wonderful other halves… it’s just showing off, really. Well done, you’re happy. I’m not saying you don’t deserve to be, I’m saying shut up about it. Go and be happy instead of telling everyone about it.
2) People who walk slowly…
…no, wait, come back.
I mean in towns and cities, when I’m trying to get somewhere. If you’re a pensioner, or a child, then fine, you can dawdle along. But if you’re just ambling along the pavement, without a care in the world, while I’m trapped behind you and I need to be somewhere, then hurry the hell up. Please.
Parks and green spaces and open countryside, by all means, dander along. In fact, anyone who’s walking with a purpose through some woodland probably needs to be kept an eye on…
If the Boy was reading this, he’d be chuckling heartily. A mutual friend of ours actually remarked to me, about a year ago “God, he’s so arrogant.” And yes, he can come across as a touch condescending and “I’m so superior with my cut-glass cheekbones and deep posh voice”. But it’s not genuine arrogance. It’s really not, and in any case, I like boys who come across as cocky. It’s endearing, it’s challenging, it’s fun to try and cut down with your own top-notch banter.
What’s not endearing is the kind of arrogance where you know that the person thinks they’re better than you, and they really do love the sound of their own voice.
And also when people verbalise that judgemental kind of arrogance that I suspect we’re all guilty of (I know I am). You know when you’re ambling along the street, or people-watching, and you catch yourself eyeing someone darkly and thinking “God, please don’t come near me.”
Yes, it’s not nice to even think that, but to verbalise it is worse, and makes people think you’re an arse. Don’t do it. Be judgemental, by all means, but be quiet.
4) Narrow-mindedness, or intolerance.
Oh, the irony.
No, what I’m getting at is the Daily Mail kind of attitude. You know, massive generalisations about anyone whose choices or lifestyle deviate slightly from what they think is the “ideal”. Be that in terms of sexuality, religion, general beliefs, goals and ambitions, whatever. We don’t all want the marriage/kids/picket-fence happy ending. You can’t change people, you can’t make them share your opinions if they …just don’t.
5) Bad spelling and grammar.
What was that about tolerance and what-not…?
Seriously though. Unless you’re dyslexic, or blind, or… OK, unless there is a very good reason, then if you’re over fourteen, you should know the difference between “their”, “there” and “they’re”. Or “you’re” and “your”.
Rant over… (kind of)
And now for the five things I will never understand:
(I’m going to do this in descending order, mainly because I feel the top one is worthy of the build-up. It’s a major mystery, I can assure you.)
5) Asymmetrical hairstyles.
I don’t get them. Who, when deciding on a new style, thinks “how I really want to look is like my hairdresser had a stroke halfway through the job”?
(That’s harsh. I apologise. Really though?)
4) Cat people.
How can anyone think a cat is better than a dog? Come on. Sure, kittens are adorable, but they don’t beat puppies.
3) The popularity of Coldplay.
Would a melody kill them? (Probably.)
Chris Martin can’t actually sing. I know fine rightly I’m no Maria Callas, but he really can’t.
2) Fake tan.
No one looks good in orange. No one. It never looks like a real tan, I can assure you.
And why the hatred for being pale? There’s nothing wrong with being a fetching shade of pale blue.
1) The male preoccupation with breasts.
I don’t get it. I really don’t. And believe me when I tell you I have had far too many long conversations on this topic.
I don’t know if it’s a what-you-don’t-have-being-desirable thing, or if it really is just a but-they’re-fun-to-play-with thing. The first – and most common – response I got from any guy I talked to about this (never let it be said I don’t do my research) was “They’re just awesome.”
(Then there’d be a silence, during which I’d wait expectantly for further clarification of the matter. The male in question would then turn to me, attempt to look less wistful and say, “Sorry, that’s really all there is to it.”)
They’re inconvenient, is what they are. And I say that as a 34B. If they were any bigger, I would be mightily unimpressed.
I’m going to leave you with this – it’s a dirty, catchy little number, and it will get stuck in your head. Just don’t sing it around small children: