Top 10: Things That Aggravate Me (and then some)

In no particular order. For no other reason than I've seen a lot of them recently. And I believe they need to be shared, exposed, finger pointed for all that they are. If you find yourself guilty of any of those, please consider stopping.

Public Bathroom Etiquette

Here are just a few of the things I've been subjected to in the last couple of weeks while trying to take care of my -rather private, thank you- business.

• Public bathrooms, as opposed to parking garages, should be surrounded by 10 feet of concrete all around. The bathroom stall is no place for lengthy conversations on your cell. Of any kind. I have no interest in being witness to the fight you're having with your boyfriend, or the quotes the insurance company is offering you. And hey, here's a little tip: if I'm aggravated by not being able to shoot my golden trickle in peace, whoever you're talking to is bound to be aggravated by your grunting and the sound of toilets flushing all around you. I can see where you might need to use your phone in a parking garage. I mean if your car won't start or someone is trying to mug you, it might come in handy. But seriously, I rather doubt you'll call anyone if you happen to have a bathroom emergency. First you'd probably be too embarrased by whatever you're calling about, and second, let's face it, no one in their right mind would come rescue you anyway. If you need coaching for anything happening in there, I suggest you re-take potty training.

• No talking. Please. Do your thing and go. If you absolutely need to talk to me while I'm in the bathroom, please let it be about something worthwhile. If you can't manage even that, at least wait for me to be at the sink. Do not, I repeat DO NOT engage me in conversation while I'm actively relieving myself. Or while you're doing that, for that matter. Conclude your conversation before entering the stall and resume it at the sink, if you must. Better still - come by my desk or stop me in the hallway. That way I at least have the option to pretend I'm busy or late for lunch. Cornering me between the sink and paper dispenser will only lead to your demise. I can't help it, shoving your face in the trash bin and running for my life is a reflex.

• Take your big business home. Or use the handicapped washroom. Or find an empty floor. Ok, I know bathrooms are supposed to be for crap, and you're totally in your right to take one in there, but please consider the poor ventilation, poor flushing power and other bathroom guests. I mean, seriously, I hate pointing it out, but grunting and heavy breathing tend to make me uncomfortable to the point where I'm trying to remember my CPR training. To use it on myself. My gag reflex isn't that sensitive, but if you're serious enough about passing that log, I might have to consider turning around and emptying the other side of me once I'm done peeing. Which would be no small feat considering the auto-flush toilets in the building.

• Wash your freaking hands. Don't pee and dash. That is just disgusting. It takes what, 10 seconds? Oh, and use SOAP. Wriggling your fingers under the tap just won't kill all that nasty shit you just wiped off your ass. And if you think I don't know who you are because you were in the stall when I came in and got out while I was in there, you are mistaken my friend. I ALWAYS look at shoes under the wall, and I'll track you down. Oh yeah. I'll know you're a dirty non-washing crap hand fiend. You remember THAT next time you're in the crapper...eyes everywhere. Thought those fancy patterned socks were cool? They're very incriminating, that's what they are.

Being out and about etiquette

Ok first, I have to point out that these things only aggravate me if I see them when I'm on my own. With one or more friends, I find those very entertaining indeed. Guys, thanks for providing entertainment, and keeping us laughing for weeks. Only please try to keep it for when I'm with company - sharing afterwards, without the visual, is really not as fun.

• Girls need support. Big girls, small girls, all girls. Wear. A. Freaking. Bra. I don't care what size you are, they make bras that'll fit you. Buy a corset. Shit, use duct tape if you have to. Seeing you walk down the street with each boob swinging in different directions is just not a sight I should be subjected to. I get dizzy, distracted, and a little grossed out. I don't really care about that 'be natural' granola crap. The natural shape of your boobs is whatever shape your bra molds them into. Period.

• Oranges look best unpeeled. K now before this sounds harsh, I do realize that cellulite is quite unavoidable, even in thin people. But for heaven's sake, I don't need to SEE IT. I've got enough of my own to deal with. Quit wrapping your textured thighs in too short, too tight apparel. It just doesn't look good. Sorry to be the one to break it to ya, but yeah. Not sexy.

• Know where you're going, and get there. Yeah, I know, the market is a pretty amazing place, and those carrots will make you stop in your tracks. But for the love of god, MOVE TO THE SIDE. There are people walking behind you, and in front of you, and if you're in the middle of a group of 10 people who all stop when you do, I'm bound to just walk right into Uncle Ed's behind. I have places to go, I know exactly where I'm going and how fast I want to be there. Don't stop my progress because you just realized you forgot your shopping list or because you have to get your cell phone out of your oversized purse. MOVE!

• Learn to walk before you get stilettos. Yeah, they look great on the shelf. Yeah, they make you look awesome when you look at yourself in the foot mirror. But try walking in them before you set out on you Friday night adventure. Walking as if you've got a watermelon up your butt with arms extended in front of you ready to grab whoever happens to walk by because you can't keep your balance only makes you look like a cheap whore on your first night manning the corner. Mind you, they don't even walk, so you look worse than they do. But you are pretty funny to look at. Carry on.

Driving Etiquette

Oh my. Where do I start. Where do I stop? I have to give myself a limit on the number of Aggravating Situations I write here. Me being the EXCELLENT driver that I am, I tend to notice flaws when it comes to others.

• Blink on, blink off. I don't know which aggravates me most. Those of you who don't use the blinker, or those of you who forget it's on. If you want to cut in front of me, you better have that blinker on. Yes, I will recognize the telltale signs that you desperatly want to get in front of me. The hugging, the swerving, the dangerously close nosing...but I will not let you pass unless I see that little flashing light. Period. Asshole in the big SUV that think you can squash me just because you're bigger than me: not working my friend. Flashers work on every model, I checked. They are not an option. I'm sure you're no closer to wanting to fuck up your bumper than I am to letting you do mine in. I'll play the bluff any day. And that little finger gesture? I don't get it. Write a manual on what it means and mebby I'll think of reading it. After I see you cut in BEHIND me. Blinkers on? Seriously? Don't you HEAR that tick tick tick thing going? Come ON!! If you're a little Smart thing just following your line, not so bad. I know you're just high on something or other, or muching bio-health food and haven't realized that the little spiritual drumming you're hearing is your blinker not going off. But hey, big 18 wheeler-guy? You freakin scare me. Are you moving into my lane or not? Cauz you're swerving anyway, so it's hard to tell. I hate playing the 'did-he-see-me-did-he-not' game. If you see me passing you at 200 over the speed limit, check your blinker. It's probably on.

• Left = Faster Than Right. Yes. I know this is complicated to understand. So let me explain it in no uncertain terms. Stay. The. Fuck. Out. Of. My. Way. I am a pretty decent and patient driver. I really am. I will follow you in the left lane at 60 kms an hour, so long as you're actually PASSING people in the right lane. I won't tailgate you or anything. But if the right lane is empty, or you're going the exact same speed as your right-couterpart, I get aggravated. The left lane is meant to be a passing lane. I know, surprising, eh? Dude. Glad we cleared that out. If you're not passing, MOVE OVER. Don't try to be the hero that slows me down. You'll just end up being the dimwit that has my bumper in your butt. Yes, I have a right to go 100 kms an hour on the highway. Not my fault your Lada only goes up to 75. Deal with it and move over. I might be going slightly over the speed limit, but if I'm not passing, I'll move over myself. See? It's that easy.

• Pedestrians are kings. I believe that, even when I'm a driver. Let them pass. It's not worth trying to make that right on the red because you think you can make it before the crossing people reach you. Be freakin' patient. Oh, and don't try to make it through the light if you haven't got space on the other side. You'll just end up in the middle of the pedestrian crossing line and my friend Andre will take pleasure in scratching your car with his bag as he walks by. We are all pedestrians at some point. Show them the respect you expect when it's you crossing busy streets. And if it's raining? Give them the right of way. Dude you're high and dry in the car. They're walking through the downpour. Seriously.

• Stay. The. Fuck. Away. I have no interest in feeling your front bumper hit my steering wheel. If you're trying to pass people in the right lane, let me pass them first and then I'll move out of your way. If you've been hugging my ass while I'm doing that, DO NOT pull in behind me as I change lanes. You better pass me, and fast. Else you got ME in your ass the whole way. Seriously, that drift you're getting just isn't worth it. You're not saving that much gas. If I can't tell what kind of car you drive cauz all I see in the rearview mirror is your ugly face and half your wipers, you're way too close. Know what that leads to? Breaking. Yeah. So you make up your mind whether you want to follow me at 60 kms an hour. Smart ass.

Ok, I'm getting aggravated just writing this stuff. I have way more coming - how could I bypass the gym, the customer service or the phone etiquettes? I'll write that up in Part II. I'm done for tonight.