Pet Peeves

1. Being asked "Why don't you have a boyfriend?" or "How are you still single?" Seriously. It's annoying.
2. Bad manners.
3. Long hair on men. Unless you're Fabio, just don't do it.
4. Socks with sandals.
5. Constant tardiness.
6. People who wear the price tag on the outside of their clothes. Seriously? I don't give a sh** what you paid. You still look stupid.
7. "One Uppers". People that always have to top your latest story...yeah. They suck.
8. Fat children; Chubby is one thing- but obese and waddling around the playground? Shy of it being a medical condition, I think it's literally borderline child abuse. And it's sad.
9. Couples who claim they never fight.(see #13.)
10. Hot men with ugly women.
11. Hot women with ugly men.
12. Baby girls dressed in hideous poofy pink outfits. Taffeta skirts are NOT for girls under 3 or over 16.
13. Liars.
14. Cheaters.
15. Being rude to the wait staff at restaurants.
16. Phone calls from men after 10pm that are not expected or a dire emergency.
17. Girls who wear heels they can't walk in.
18. Guys who try too hard.
19. Being called "sweetie" by a waiter or waitress. "That one actually conjures up a little pang of anger anytime I even think about it."
20. Dumb Sluts (referred in posts as DS.)
21. Guys who act as though they're way cooler than me. Also known as "Bro's"
22. Name droppers. Usually those folks are guilty of #7.
23. Animal abuse. (This is not meant to be funny. I'm literally repulsed by it and those who do it.)
24. Getting ignored by female bartenders. (Bitchy attitude = NO TIP)
25. Bad customer service.
26. People who hate America.
27. People who hate the military.
28. Faith Fanatics (FF).
29. A dirty bathroom.
30. Women (or men) who apply makeup while driving. That's scarier than texting In My Fabulous Opinion (IMFO).

31. Panty Lines (PL's).
32. White shoes BEFORE Memorial Day and AFTER Labor Day. (Being southern- this is ESPECIALLY frustrating since 90% of women just completely dismiss this fact. They just think "Warm weather = white shoes". NO! )

SSB Part II

SSB PART II

     When we meet a guy, our behavior instantly changes. Whether we like to admit it or not, it does. Whether we’re dreaming about monogrammed towels or simply planning for date number 3 with the FB (typically known as the ‘sex date’). But until we meet said FB, we are just our SS.

     As previously mentioned, many guys have some particularly scary SSB. My research for the traits I mentioned has been thorough- mostly coming from former FBs, PH’s, SB’s, and finally my current roommates. (Bless their hearts). Gents, I by no means, do not think that women are incapable demonstrate behavior that it just as disturbing. I have seen girls’ apartments that would even make a homeless man’s skin crawl. Let’s face it- not everyone learned proper toilet scrubbing techniques. But a girl’s SSB is probably more quirky and comical, where a guy’s SSB is more of a health department case.

Girl SSB includes:

- eating while standing up, usually over the kitchen sink or on the small space of counter nearby.

- eating ice cream directly from the pint. Ok. Tub. Eating it from the tub.

- making funny little snacks like this: 5 unsalted crackers, each topped with a small amount of peanut butter, then chocolate chips. Microwave for 10 second then eat. Pairs great with ice cold moo-juice.

- eating Chinese takeout while lying in bed…on a Friday night.
- having drinks with another FSG on a Friday night...via Skype.

- devoting every Sunday morning to a full on field day of your apartment. A pot of coffee, Britney Spears on full blast, and rubber gloves…yay!

- singing in the shower

- not shaving your legs more than 2x/week.

- wearing granny-panties at random

- watching sad girly movies that you know will make you cry

- excessive shoe shopping

- going out with your other FSG’s disguised as DGs just for an ego boost

- cheesy romance novels

- weekly spa-pedicures

- only ordering pizza when you know the adorable pizza guy will be delivering

- singing at the top of your lungs in the car

- wearing big sunglasses.

- 3 hour lunches on weekends that often result in extreme intoxication, fueling you into a blur of a Saturday night. (WARNING: may lead to DS with an ONS)

- window shopping on a Saturday afternoon. For 3 hours.

- staying in your PJs all day.

- buying yourself flowers to brighten up the apartment.

- having dinner parties just so you can cook a full meal without the guilt of knowing you won’t eat the leftovers. Hungry guests=no leftovers PLUS they bring great booze.

- looking at facebook pages of old boyfriends in the hopes that they’re fat or dating someone fat and ugly.

- rearranging furniture

- redecorating. For the 3^rd time this year.

- talking yourself into a home improvement project like painting a wall in the apartment, or retiling the bathroom floor. Then realizing you probably shouldn’t. And you can’t.

- re-reading love letters from old FB’s and [hopefully] laughing.

- 2 hour phone-dates with other FSG’s

- Wine Nights at your apartment with your FSG’s.

- slathering thick lotion on your hands and sleeping with socks on them.

- Going out with your FSG’s with just enough $ for a cab home. Mission? Drink free all night. It’s bad, but we do it. Deal with it.

- staying home on a Friday for Saturday night simply to have quiet snuggle time with your pets.

- never closing the bathroom door
- "re-gifting" an unwanted gift to a former FSG, who has committed the cardinal sin of forsaking her FSGs for her new FB.

- air drying after a shower

- checking every nook and cranny when returning home to an empty apartment and before locking up at night. There are crazy people in the world and they’re not welcome in my home.

- baking every recipe on the back of a ‘Bisquik’ box in one day.

- yoga in the living room

- making chocolate chip cookies only so you can eat the dough

….and realizing by the time you finish this list that you really need to get out there and meet some new people. Or is that just me? Redecorating is expensive, alcohol wears out your liver, and cookie dough will make you fat no matter how much yoga you do.

                       

3 Days Before Christmas

My first hour back in the United States was glorious. After spending over 1/2 a year overseas, I learned to appreciate the smaller, more simple things about life. For example- 3 ply toilet paper, orange juice at any moment in the day, Dunkin Donuts coffee, alcohol, something other-than-chicken for every meal...you get my jist. I was excited beyond words as I walked down the brow in a complete daze, leaving the ship far behind me. Had there not been a crowd of hundreds of families, plus several news cameras, I probably would have done a little dance mixed in with obscene hand gestures. However, I maintained my bearing and simply walked down the pier towards the parking lot. As I walked, all these people were smiling, crying, wildly waving their marker and glitter covered posters, waving little American flags, and shouting "thank you!" and "welcome home!" It was surreal. At some point before I got to the end of the pier, I started to have an out of body experience. I turned and looked up at the ship, my home for last year, and felt like I was doing something wrong by leaving. however...since my 'give-a-shit' fell overboard back in May, I just kept walking. That brief flash of guilt was washed away knowing I would be in my cozy apartment in less than an hour.
What I was not ready for was the stellar event that was coming at me- my first trip to McDonalds since April. Ok, let's rephrase that. I was ready- but McDonalds was not. After discovering that my phone would call anyone OTHER than my ride home, I borrowed a phone and told him to meet me at McDonalds. I cheerfully repositioned my belongings and began my victory march toward those golden arches. Through the parkinglot I strode, briskly weaving in between cars, beaming my plastered-on-smile. As I walked up the steps, I could almost smell the coffee and taste the biscuits. I went in, dropped my things, and got in line. Much to my horror, the cashier flipped the menu and announced that breakfast was over. No juice, no buttery biscuits with eggs and cheese, no hashbrowns in a grease soaked wrapper. Suffice to say, I was crushed. Quickly, I thought that I'd be ok with a burger, fries, and coke. At least it wasn't chicken. Another line opened up, and I stepped over to place my order for a high-calorie-yet-much-missed-American staple meal. Unfortunately an older, round couple made it to the counter first. Yes, they were round and clearly fast food was a staple of their large existence. No big deal, or so I thought. My dreams of a quick snack while waiting were slowly destroyed as the woman placed an order for at least 10 meals, all with specific instructions that resembled Meg Ryan's character out of "When Harry Met Sally". During that time, as my rage built up, I realized that McDonalds was out of soda and only had blue powerade and water to drink. Blue powerade will never enter my body again. Not after a 12 week diet of it at one point in my life. This was it. Before I screamed at the woman and ordered her into the galley to make the fucking food herself, I walked away. I had to. My rage was about to spill over and she would be the lucky recipient of a bountiful helping. I gave up and just stifled my hunger induced rage to go sit down and wait for the roommate. We will now refer to him as RM. Finally he showed up and the one thing that salvaged my day was not the sight of someone familiar, it was driving his brand spanking new Mercedes complete with seat heaters all the way home.
Yay America!