Just to show what a good daughter I am, I didn't make my mom cringe by going with my first instinct of entitling this "More People to Piss Me Off." Of course, I've negated that initial good daughterness by then not only writing the word "piss" once but twice and also making it in boldface. So, yeah, not really a very good daughter.
Anyway, this isn't about my mother, particularly because she's not one of the people to tick me off. No, this is about others who tick me off. The fact is, it isn't about them either, it's about my gluttony for taking on activities which will surely put me in contact with people who will tick me off.
For example, I do the middle school's weekly electronic newsletter. It takes a few hours a week, mostly in time spent moaning about Constant Contact's program. [No need to get in touch with me Constant Contact, we already know you blame my Internet speed. Got it. Thanks for being there. Kiss. Kiss. My butt. Butt.]
Do you know how many people believe I owe them in some way? Like the community football and cheer leading league. Instead of an image of a football player -- which I throw in just to liven up the look of the thing -- can I also put a cheerleader? And if I won't do both -- which I say I won't -- then can I make it a cheerleader? [Note the lack of any "please" or "thank you." My kids have better manners.]
Or how about the many, many people who are to provide me content by Monday evening but don't give me diddly-squat until -- let's see, it's 6:30 a.m. as I write this -- after 6:30 a.m. Friday? The newsletter goes out this afternoon. Do they not realize I like to start drinking Friday mornings? This cuts into my time.
Let's move to other people, random folks I encounter because I've decided to start selling things on craigslist or eBay or giving things away on Freecycle. People, people, people: read the freakin' descriptions. Nine times out of ten, your lame-ass questions are answered there. And, hey, if you're going to be somewhere -- like my house -- at "around" 6 p.m., don't call at 6:40 p.m. and say you're nearly here.
I could go on and on. [Lord knows, I go on and on often enough.] But I'll end with this thought: just like I think weird things happen to me because I'm always attuned to good blog fodder, I think I encounter dough-heads because I need to get my aggression out without harming my children. Really, isn't it always better to hate near-strangers than the ones you love?