Thursday, March 31, 2011

Dropping the My

I would like to put a quick disclaimer on this pet peeve - It is not my peeve, but was suggested to me by my old cronie and fellow CSU Ram, Tricia Fry.  I'm going to attempt to share it, because when Tricia told me about this peeve, I instantly agreed.  She is so right.  The problem is when people casually drop the "my" when talking about a family member.  This means that someone whose mother you have never met says things to you like, "Mom is coming over to my house for dinner tonight."  or "Dad always has to have green bean casserole at Thanksgiving." 
Just this very method of communication with those outside of your family, who are not in fact related to these people, is TMI.  It's not my Grandma, so please don't refer to her in the familiar with me.  "My Grandma is coming into town." is appropriate.  "Grandma is coming into town." is not.  Did I miss something?  Are you talking about my grandma?  I guess you didn't get the memo that she passed away.  
Please, when it comes to dropping the "my", keep it in the family. 

Wednesday, March 30, 2011

The Poop Purse

What is perhaps the greatest bane of the dog owner in this day and age?  I can tell you easily.  It is the fact that one has to stoop over and handle canine feces every time you step out the door for a walk.  I actually stood my ground on not getting a dog for years largely based on the fact that I refused to handle hot and fragrant poop freshly laid by an animal.  The human race has developed everything from the high powered flush toilet to the bidet to thick and luxurious cottonelle toilet paper in order to avoid any contact with a bowel movement, and yet we voluntarily grab it with our hands, with only the thin veil of a plastic baggie for protection on a daily basis.  Oh, the humanity.
Don't get me wrong, I know that it is a necessary evil.  This peeve is a double-edged sword of sorts, as people that do not pick up their animal dung and leave it you to later spray about with your lawn mower (into your socks and what not) should be a pet peeve in and of themselves.   

Monday, March 28, 2011

Extendable Leashes

This is literally a "pet" peeve - The extendable leashes that people use for their dogs.  What is the point of a leash if it extends for a half of a mile?  Are you really taking your dog for a walk?  I don't know if it qualifies when, technically, you could stand on your front porch while your dog walks itself around the block on it's extendable leash.
One of the reasons that this type of apparatus peeves me is that I find it irritating that a dog can be sniffing my buns and generally invading my own private space while his owner stands on the other side of the street holding his "leash".  The extendable leash is sort of the antithesis of the child leash, which I have peeved about before.  The dog needs a leash.  It is only polite.  Control it.  Put something on your pet that won't allow him to extend beyond your line of vision or the beyond the line of reason.

P.S. While searching for a photo to accompany this peeve, I just found out that this type of leash is, in fact, quite dangerous for the animal at the end of, HA, an even more substantial reason not to use one!!

Sunday, March 27, 2011


I believe that this is a pet peeve that we can all agree on.  Sort of a universal peeve.  Does anyone enjoy being tailgated?  For that matter, I can't understand why anyone enjoys being the tailgater.  Isn't it annoying to have to constantly make sure that you are not going to actually touch bumpers with the car in front of you, repeatedly tapping the breaks, knowing that you are increasing your risk of an accident with every inch that you move closer?
My least favorite kind of tailgater is not the guy that is in an obvious break-neck hurry, pummeling past cars and getting in near accidents at every turn of the highway.  Don't get me wrong, this guy is no fun, but the guy that really bugs me is the one that isn't in a hurry, but is, in fact, just leisurely tailgating you.  It's tailgating as a life style choice, as opposed to tailgating as a means to moving faster.  You switch lanes, thinking that leisurely tailgater guy wants to get past you, but he doesn't pass you.  He simply latches onto someone else's bumper or maybe, if your lucky, he pastes himself back onto your tail.  I wish that I could convey to people that my backseat is really not that comfortable, then perhaps they wouldn't want to park their car in it.

Friday, March 25, 2011

Identifying the Funny

Man, it peeves me when people say, "You are so funny."  I know that sounds lame, actually lamer than I thought now that it is in writing, but it irks me when someone says or does something funny and those around them respond by stating "You're so funny."  It just seems like an oxymoron or a double negative or a double entendre or whatever you would call that.  If something is funny, isn't the most appropriate response laughter?  I never understand if these people stating the obvious have a limited ability to laugh and, so, need to fill in the missing chuckles with words, or if they actually feel it's a necessary component and response to a joke or funny moment.  I find that stating that someone is funny in the middle of a time normally occupied by laughter creates a certain awkwardness, almost like there is an expectation for more, now that the personality of said person has been defined as the funny guy.  I might even go so far as to label this moment as a buzz kill.
Go ahead and tell your friend Bob, "Hey that guy Joe is really funny."  Or the single guy at your office, "I should set you up with Sue, she's really funny."  But, for the sake of the moment, just laugh when someone says something funny - don't be that guy that throws the old "You are so funny" wet blanket on it. 

Thursday, March 24, 2011

Inappropriate Childwear

My peeve-o-meter begins to twitch when I see adults in those ridiculous t-shirts that say stupid stuff that often borders or dives right into the vulgar.  For example:  "I'm With Stupid," "I Apologize in Advance for Staring at Your Tits," I could go on, but I think you get the point - and, yes, these are real t-shirts that I have witnessed).
The inappropriate children's t-shirts that continue on this same vein push my peeve-o-meter into overdrive.  Adults have the choice to be an idiot.  But by putting your child in these t-shirts, you pigeon hole them into the role of idiot - and I believe that this role could end up being the one they will play for life.
What do you think a teacher thinks when you send your child to school in a "I Didn't Do It" shirt, "Little Devil," or "Don't Blame Me!"  Let me just tell you, it doesn't say 'Model Student.'  It also doesn't say 'These parents are really hoping for the best for their child.'  It's sort of like buying your child a ticket to the slow lane.  Yeah, get out there and be a loser! 
Why not take it to the next level?  A couple of my personal favorite children's t-shirts that have arrived at school on the backs of first graders:  "If You See the Police...Warn a Brother" (accompanying the Warner Brothers logo) or the simple glory of "Bull Shirt." 
These are all real gems.  Might I suggest the old solid color, blank t-shirt?  Perhaps the child them self could just do the talking, rather than the shirt.  Or maybe you could get them a shirt with a college logo and give them something new to strive for.

Wednesday, March 23, 2011

Long Fingernails in the Wrong Places

When I say the wrong places in regards to long fingernails, I am not talking about a certain restaurant or exclusive "no fingernail" club.  (Although perhaps these types of limitations should be enforced - I once went to a brunch buffet when I was about twelve with a full set of Lee Press-Ons and you can't imagine the amount of whipped cream I later recovered from under those babies.)  Anyway, back to the wrong places.  What I mean, specifically, is - 1. On the hands of men, and 2. On the feet of anyone.
I get that long fingernails are making a resurgence, thank you to the likes of Beyonce and Rhianna.  I may not be growing out my daggers anytime soon, but I can appreciate those who wish to do so.  If you've got 'em, grow 'em.
I do not, however, get long fingernails on men.  Ever.  Talk about gag me with a bottle of clear coat.  Long nails on men is so Count Dracula.  Gross.  Likely excuses:  You play the guitar or some other stringed instrument.  So...get a pic; the fingernails are still inexcusable.  I've also heard that people have long fingernails in order to do some type of drug.  Cocaine?  Well, if you've ever needed a reason to kick the habit...Long fingernails could be the straw that broke the addicts back.
Let's confront the ugliness of long toenails.  It just seems so wrong, harking back to those frightening photos you used to marvel over/be revolted by as a child in the Guinness Book of World Records of that mysterious Chinese lady that had never cut her toenails, which twisted and contorted themselves around her sandals.  (I searched for a photo of this memory, but can't seem to find one.  Perhaps the modern world can't handle it.)  Please don't get a French manicure on your toes.  You're supposed to be able to put those things in shoes and run and stuff.  Keep it clean.

Tuesday, March 22, 2011

"Naturally Thin" Starlets

I'll make this quick, because it may be getting a bit persnickety on the peeve front.  But...have you ever noticed the extremely high number of who's-who types that claim to eat whatever they want and do nothing and yet they have the taut and toned body of an Olympian-yogi-preteen hybrid?  The ratio of flexed stars who act as though they simply sit around nibbling on Popeye's biscuits while watching the boob-tube is just not statistically possible.
Why can't famous people just say that they don't eat everything that they want to and that they exercise more than most Americans?  I think that their fans may actually like them more if they just let it rip.  I don't believe that Kate Winslet eats fish and chips all the time like she claims and that she just dropped massive lbs by deciding on a more positive body image.  I am not falling for the person that makes that face in interviews like "sorry!  I really don't do anything!" (fake apologizing) while their biceps outline is so clearly defined. 

Monday, March 21, 2011


As someone who indulges in the world of Facebook, I probably shouldn't even allow myself to get peeved out by any of the aspects of Facebooking, because it just seems like opening up a can of worms, BUT...
I just want to quickly peeve out about the self-lovin that goes on in excess in the world of Facebook. 
A good way to check yourself to see if you are a Facebragger is to ask - Is everything that I write on this social network an attempt to create or reinforce the idea that I am awesome?  In other words - Do I strictly write about my kick-ass vacation, how many runs I shredded on my ski weekend, my high end second home, the over exaggerated accomplishments of my children, a compliment I received that no one else would have ever known about, my prowess at the gym, etc, etc, ad nauseam?  If you answered yes to any of these questions, now is the time to check yo self before you wreck yo self, in the infamous words of Ice Cube.  Facebragging can lead to the loss of friends, the loss of respect, and perhaps worst of all, it can lead to those you know talking and laughing about you behind your back.  (Trust me, this happens.  "Can you believe that so-and-so actually wrote that?  It's classic!")
Still not sure if you have fallen into the ugly trap of Facebragging?  Unsure if the worst of you has risen it's ugly head?  Ask yourself this (and try to answer honestly)...Are you awesomer on Facebook than you are in real life?

Sunday, March 20, 2011

Not Keeping Promises

Does anyone register a peeve when someone (I won't mention any names) says that they will post one pet peeve everyday and then misses two days? 
I was on an exotic out-of-the-country excursion and didn't have access to a computer.  (OK, I was in a hotel in Canada with all electronic amenities, but...)  I need a little flexibility.

I do have a couple more travel pet peeves to share before the week is over! 
First, does no one understand that if everyone were to step back about five paces from the baggage claim belt, that one and all would be able to step forward and claim their luggage when it was spotted?  Why do people insist on standing with their toes touching the baggage claim, creating a tight picket fence which allows no one to reach in for their bag, let alone see it coming out?  Give those Samsonites a little breathing room!
Second, if I have to take off my shoes, my scarf, my belt, my watch, and my jacket at security, can I please be left with a shred of my dignity and my cardigan?  Do we really consider a thin cotton sweater a "jacket"?  No, sir, not in this metal detector.  I am often wearing a undershirt underneath of the sort that I wouldn't walk around my house in.  I hardly want to flash it to the traveling public.
Lastly, shut it.  Sometimes people just aren't in the mood to talk to you on a plane.  period.

Friday, March 18, 2011

All of your Baggage

*Peeve Five in the Trials of Travel Week

I've got a couple of peeves regarding passenger baggage.  First, I'd like to talk about "carry on" luggage.  The very name insinuates that you should be able to carry it / lift it.  So, first step to determining if it is, in fact, carry-on luggage is if you can carry it.  (This is often not the case, as the enormous items brought on planes by many can certainly not be hefted over their heads into the overhead bins.)  Carry-on luggage is clearly defined, if not enforced, by the airlines.  You are allowed one piece of small luggage and one personal item.  For those that do not know, a personal item is a purse or a wallet (think small), not a large duffel bag.  So...your duffel bag, overstuffed roller bag, lumpy hobo purse, backpack, and grungy off-white pillow do not combine to be CARRY ON luggage. 
This surplus of bologna baggage has gotten to the point that nearly every flight "gate checks" your carry-on luggage now.  Which means that the mass of humanity that you managed to enter into the gate area with (without paying any of the new baggage fees) is now going under the plane with my legitimate, declared, and paid-for luggage.  Sweet.  I hope my luggage leaks hair gel on your luggage. 
Solution?  Why not start charging for CARRY ON luggage, which bangs old ladies in the head, slows down the security line to an excruciating pace, eliminates leg-room, and generally irritates everyone and let CHECKED luggage ride for free?

Thursday, March 17, 2011

Drawing the Curtains

*Peeve Four in the Trials of Travel Week

One thing that I am peevamently passionate about when traveling by plane is the window coverings.  First off, let me say that it is imperative and nonnegotiable that I have a window seat.  In order to feel mentally and physically stable at 10,000 feet, I need to sit next to the window.  The ability to see out of said window is the key to my being able to travel.
As the proprietor of the window seat, I believe that I am accorded the privilege of drapery patrol.  That sash is staying up.  Period.  And although it has happened that somehow I end up in the middle or the aisle and have been subjected to that guy that pulls the shades down, I have swallowed my bile and sweated out the trip, craning my neck to see out of some other passenger's porthole.  Because, as I said, it is their privilege to control the shade.
Please don't ask me to close the blind.  (Trust me, it happens all the time)  This time, it was "there is a glare on the movie."  Well, I guess you should have thought about that before you requested an aisle and then ordered the headphones.  Last time it was "my eyes are sensitive to the light."  Okay, you really should have made sure you got the window seat and, may I suggest sunglasses? 
Maybe you like the aisle for the extra leg room.  Great for you.  Go ahead and stretch out, just don't expect to be stretching across and closing my window blind.

Wednesday, March 16, 2011

The Hierarchy of Plane Travel

*Peeve Three in the Trials of Travel Week

Something that really peeves me when I am traveling by plane are the levels of elite accorded to passengers.  If you are just the average peon, who has bought the average $400.00 or so ticket, you are treated as such a lower life form as to often not even be assigned a seat.  No, you are so unimportant that the airline doesn't even feel that they can commit to marking off a seat for your $400.00.  You'll get that assigned to you when you arrive at the airport.  (By a crusty worker that will put you in the middle seat between a guy with bad breath and an obese woman that is occupying her seat, the hand rest, and a portion of your seat.)  Perhaps I would like to be able to withhold my money until I get a seat.
When you are ready to board the plane, you might notice that there is actually a red carpet rolled out in one section before the attendant.  ( a la Oscars style)  Please note that you are not allowed to tread on this rug.  It is for the gold medallion, silver pant, platinum bearing customers only.  Do you really have to demean me like this?  You have already withheld a seat from me for over two months.  You made me pay extra just to bring my clothes and toothbrush with me.  I had to take my shoes off and undo my belt just to enter this portion of the building.  You're going to herd me into a small and uncomfortable area like a head of cattle.  Then you plan to serve me half of a can of warm coke with a single ice cube in it, withholding all food unless I give you more money.  Isn't it enough?  Do you really have to tell me that I can't walk down the maroon colored carpeting that you have rolled out?

Tuesday, March 15, 2011

Having to be Peevish while Vacationing

I'm visiting my sister in Seattle and tonight, as I settle in and adjust to the time change, my pet peeve is having to think up a pet peeve to write about.  So, my peeve of the day is having to try to keep up this rigorous posting while vacationing.
Be back tomorrow.

Sunday, March 13, 2011

Most Important Guy on the Airplane

*Peeve One in the Trials of Travel Week

How can you tell who the most important guy on your flight is?  No, you won't recognize him from the movies.  No, he isn't sitting in first class.  And, no, he is not the pilot.  You will only be able to recognize this higher echelon of traveler by his behaviors as he makes his way from point A to point B.  Your first clue is going to be his manner of boarding the aircraft.  They are allowing boarding for first class and those needing extra help (families with small children, people with a disability, etc).  Screw that, he says.  When you're as important as he is, you just board, damn it.  (This allows him to be completely settled in with all of his what-nots spread out and seat belt fastened when his fellow passengers board at the proper time and must ask him to allow them into his row.  This, of course, is accompanied by much deliberate movement, sighing, and penetrating stares aimed at those entering the row.)  All of this is self inflicted.
Another clue on who the most important guy on your flight is will be how this person exits the plane.  General courteousness suggests that passengers file out of their rows in order, each row proceeding prior to the row in front of them.  But this guy is too important for that.  He might be in the last row of the plane, but he is willing to bum rush elderly ladies and small children to be the first one out of the plane.  That's right, this is the guy that hockey checks you as you rise fruitlessly from your seat only to be pinned in by him.  Does he have a connection that he is going to miss?  Probably not.  Is he in his best business suit rushing to get to that job interview or life threatening meeting?  Cooler full of organs?  Nah, he's in sweatpants.  He's just that important!  He needs, no he demands, that he be the first guy waiting at the empty baggage carousel.

Saturday, March 12, 2011

The Trials of Travel

I would like to dedicate this week of peevishness to the trials of traveling, in honor of spring break 2011.  I will start by saying that it boggles my mind how people abandon any sense of politeness or moral decency when they enter an airport.  I swear that the masses would trample their own mother if it meant a better seat on the plane or a more prime standing location at the baggage claim.
Each day this week I will expound upon my ideas surrounding the many peeves of traveling... 

Friday, March 11, 2011

Stainless Steel Appliances

Do you ever watch those home shows like House Hunters and get irritated by the continuous whining of "I don't know about this house - it doesn't have stainless steel appliances..."?  Or the raptures over "Oh, the kitchen is wonderful!  It has the stainless steel appliances I was looking for."  When did Frigidaire die and make the stainless appliance the only possible choice for the kitchen? 
Am I the only person in America that has noticed that these appliances are not necessarily "high end" or posh?  They are often ridiculously chinsy.  In fact, what I like to call the usual "stainless steel appliance" is, in fact, a black appliance with a couple of strips of stainlessness.  A truly stainless appliance is in a budget unattained by most people.  So why is this black appliance with touch o' stainless the status symbol of so many?
I have no desire for black appliances, so I say embrace the possibilities!  Heaven forbid, you might just find yourself equally awesome with a white refrigerator.

Thursday, March 10, 2011

"Sign Language"

The sign language that I am speaking of is that spoken through the posting of signs throughout one's home, not the form of communication employed by the hearing impaired.  No, this form is employed by those that are apparently expecting their house guests and residents to be impaired in such a was as to be unable to identify where they are, what they are supposed to do, and what room they are in.  
Is your kitchen really a BISTRO, as labeled?  Doubt it.  Is your suburban range pumping out French delicacies that are going to be served at a charming CAFE in Paris?  (Of course you have probably identified your breakfast bar with a plaque stating CAFE, so I suppose anything is possible.)
After your croissant, you can head to the restroom, which has been conveniently labeled as the OUTHOUSE.  This, of course, really adds to the country charm and antique feel of your home that was built last year.  While in the bathroom, you get sucked into the INSPIRATIONAL QUOTE plastered above the kleenex box.  As you step out of your zen-moment, you wonder where am I anyway?  Instantly you are reminded and grounded by that fact that you are at the LAKE HOUSE.  It's conveniently posted right above the couch.  The home is owned by THE TAYLORS.  (That's over the TV.)
Now that you know exactly where you are, perhaps you need guidance in what you ought to be doing.  This is where signage along the lines of LAUGH, LIVE, LOVE comes in. 
Don't mean to be peevish here, but...If you need to instruct someone in your home to LAUGH, your probably not that funny.  Lord help you if you have to remind them to LIVE (might want to invest in a set of defibrillators rather than that shabby chic sign).  And, if they need a banner to tell them to LOVE you, try taking away all of the plaques - they may at least like you more.

Wednesday, March 9, 2011

Asparagus Pee

This is a pet peeve for Mother Nature, because there is nothing to be done or said about this one.  You intake the delicate, innocent shoots of newly grown asparagus and you output the scent of a thousand times rotted vegetables that have been bathing in pool of acidic eggs for a week.  How does this transformation happen?  And why must I be subjected to an urge to jump promptly off of the offending toilet almost immediately after eating this little plant?
Asparagus urine can be embarrassing, in addition to personally offending.  What if you're at a public restroom?  You worry that the person in the next stall, or heaven forbid, the person that comes in after you will wonder what the putrid smell is and what you did to produce it.
I would, however, like to inform you of one small light shining at the end of this vegetative tunnel.  My husband recently did a bit a bit of research in this arena (yes, it's true), and found out that only 30% of people actually have the capability to smell asparagus pee.  We all create it, but only an elite few can smell it.  How crazy is that?!  So, if you are of that other 70%, you have absolutely no idea what I have been talking about.  And, if you are in the olfactory 30%, you need only worry about offending a minority of the population.

Tuesday, March 8, 2011

Animal-Child Confusion

Today's wonderful pet peeve was inspired by our friend, Paris Hilton. (...Yay?...) What is it, you may ask?  Well, it's animal-child confusion, and no I don't mean the weird feral child from Mad Max 2 The Road Warrior, I mean treating kids like animals and vice versa. 
That doesn't mean that I don't like animals in fact, it's exactly the opposite, I like animals but not in that weird "Oopsy Poopsy, cute wittle puppy I wub you soooo much, yes I do awwww wook at your wittle puppy eyes" way.  I like them just as much as the next guy, but it makes me sick when you treat animals the same way you treat a baby and to be honest it grosses me out just a little (especially when you touch tongues with your dog)
(no this picture is not considered normal behavior
for a pet owner)
Also if you have read this fantastic blog for a while (which I highly recommend if you haven't) you may have read the one about child leashes, which are the opposite end of the spectrum... if you read that you'll know what I'm talking about.  Another child animal confusion that amazes and disturbs me is if you go to a dog park and listen to the oopsie poppies talk for a while and then go to walmart and listen to the same people say "Tommy, I told you GET OUTTA THAT CART!"  It just proves my point... I assume that this whole thing is the work of aliens...

Monday, March 7, 2011


That's right, CURVES (as in the work-out franchise) is a pet peeve of mine.  Have you ever noticed that they pop up like parasites where ever an unsuspecting mini-mall lies? - in big cities, in the smallest of towns that seem like they couldn't even support such an enterprise...they are everywhere!  Curves weighs in on my peeve-o-meter because I feel like they are operating under a banner of false advertising.  I mean, I have always gotten the impression that we are supposed to believe that a vigilant schedule of Curves would help improve your own curves.  Simplified, Curves = Weight loss.
But just hold the dumbbell a minute, have you  met or encountered anyone that goes to Curves that has any of the following: an ounce of weight less than when they started, a more athletic build, or a rocking body?  I dare you to say you have!
Once I was riding on the airport tram with my husband when I overheard two ladies that had just met come to the realization that they worked out at the same facility.  Looking over, I saw a pleasantly plump middle aged lady and a softish younger women.  They spoke of their dedication and diligence of going to the club four to five times a week.  At this point, I leaned over to my husband and whispered "Curves."  And I'll be damned if I didn't hear one say to the other before exiting that she was hoping to find a Curves in Florida to work out at when she was out of town!
Maybe it's fun.  Maybe there is great camaraderie.  Perhaps one's cardiovascular health is improved at Curves.  But, if all  of my high tech research is correct - don't be fooled by the innocent mini-mall disguise and the big talk of weight loss and fitness, Curves is nothing more than a parasite of empty promises.

Sunday, March 6, 2011

Skinny Jeans

When is this fashion trend going to end?  (Actually - funny I should ask, as I have recently read in more than one reputable fashion magazine that the trend is over and you should stop wearing your skinny jeans, but this of course means that we will have at least another five to ten years of those sausage casings parading as pants on the racks in main stream America.)
The peeve of the skinny jean is that only about .015% of the population should be wearing them.  Yet, they have become the mainstay of every retail store from J.Crew to the Gap to Deb.  There are substances on the average female leg (example - body fat) that shouldn't be forced into a two inch width of material.  Have you ever noticed that small pickles are so squeezed into glass jars that they nearly burst from the jar when the lid is removed?  And, yet, the jumbo pickle is actually sold in a liquid-filled plastic sleeve, allowing for adequate wiggle room to support its comfort level?  That large pickle represents the thighs of American women.  Allow your legs the same respect as the jumbo pickle, ladies.   
Just the other day I was behind a women on a sidewalk and I actually had to look away.  She was wearing the advanced type of skinny jean that is in fact a stretch pant with all of the jean accouterments painted on.  I felt as if I was invading her privacy just by walking down the same sidewalk.  No stranger should be privy to every nuance of your cellulite, every indentation of your gluteus maximus.
I know that the skinny pant is hard to avoid.  I have a pair of corduroys myself that are breathing down the neck of the skinny look.  But when you try on a set of these toothpick casings, really look at yourself.  If there was more material used to make your underwear than the pants, put them back on the shelf.  I believe that by closing the door on the skinny jean, you are opening the window for the bootleg, the stovepipe, the straight leg, the flare, etc, etc. 
Yikes - I forgot to even touch on the subject of skinny pants for men.  No words needed.  Please see below.

Saturday, March 5, 2011

If that Hat fits, it doesn't mean you should wear it

This pet peeve is about hats.  Specifically, the hats that don't fall into any particular, utilitarian category other than "fashion."  Not a baseball cap, cowboy hat, certainly not a hat to keep you warm, but rather those hats that say only "Look at me in jaunty cap.  Aren't I sassy?" 
This look is, in fact, usually a descendant of a formerly functioning piece of head wear.  There is the military-inspired hat that has a certain "Reporting for Duty"-circa World War II look.  And there is also the "Gov'ner, care for today's paper for a quid?" look of the remastered newsboy cap.  The problem with these hats, perhaps better called 'looks' or 'fashion statements', is that I feel a need to put them on the stage of a small town summer production of a bad musical.  They require a costume from the neck-down, not just the neck-up.
Also, these types of jaunty caps are never put on by accident.  Never to cover up an unbrushed head of hair - no matter how much the wearer would like you to think that they just casually threw this old thing on.  No, they are quintessentially an intentional trip down the runway of life.  In fact, - and this could be it's own pet peeve, as it applies to all types of hats - the hair is often quaffed and styled around the cap itself.  That's right, I am suggesting that first the hat is placed on top of the head and then actually followed by styling tools and products to form the hair into the perfect companion to the chapeau.  If that doesn't ring your peeve bell, I don't know what does!  Oh, wait, perhaps it is when women actually bobby-pin a hat into place, allowing for the full strandular glory of their hair to be the star, with the hat working as a perfectly set stage.  Unless it is a tiara (and don't think that it is okay to wear tiaras unless it is under VERY specific circumstances) bobby pins should never be employed when putting on a lid.
So - just to reCAP (ha, ha)...Hats should not require you to be eating military rations or to don a cockney accent.  And, unless you are going as Private Benjamen for Halloween or starring as one of the extras in a production of Oliver Twist, your hat should have some semblance of purpose other than an attempt to be a fashionista.

Friday, March 4, 2011

Air Heads


This guest peeve could fall under the Cell Outs heading, but really implies a deeper problem than inappropriate cell phone etiquette.  This is the passenger who responds immediately to "Ladies and gentleman, welcome to Chicago, where the local time is 6:20PM.  If you can reach your cell phone without leaving your seat, you are welcome to use it at this time......"  You know the guy.  He immediately picks up his phone and dials.  He announces that he "just landed" (duh), that he isn't at the gate yet (duh), that he will have to get his bag (duh), and often that he will call again (because at this point, there really isn't any information that the recipient can't live without).  You can always tell that said caller is met with the equivalent of an empty stare. 
This call has no purpose.  Not only can you look up flight information (and this guy probably called when he left, too), but even if the flight is delayed, you can track the flight online.  At any given moment you can see that this plane left the gate 17 minutes late, is traveling over Iowa, and is expected to arrive eight minutes late at gate C38.  Bags can be claimed at carousel #12.  Inevitably, this guy hangs up with a bit of a sigh and then pushes ahead of you in the aisle of the plane, only to stand and wait for his bag to arrive (probably while on the phone with his next victim). 
Now, it is probably also safe to assume that this is the same guy that calls the minute his departure has been delayed.  Again, no information to pass on just yet.  You hear him say in anger "my flight's delayed, some mechanical problem, weather, whatever....."  Of course, he is told, if anything, to call back when he knows more.  Which you can bet on.......

Thursday, March 3, 2011

Please See March 2nd

My actions on today's pet peeve could be a peeve in and of themselves, but I'm taking the easy way out - if you haven't read it, please look at the guest peeve from yesterday.  Because it technically includes about five peeves, and because I would like to express and agree with all of the sentiments there.

Wednesday, March 2, 2011

Cell Outs


Cell phones are awesome.  Seriously, not only can you talk to people wherever you are whenever you want to, you can also check your email, surf the web, take pictures, text, etc…..
Unfortunately, unlike driving a car, no license is needed to operate a cell phone.  However, for the cell phone abusers, maybe one should be required.  I’m not even going to get into the people who talk on their phone at the movies, weddings, funerals, plays, or the ones who think it’s a good idea to text while driving.  Even if these offenders had a license, it should be permanently revoked…..they are too far gone.
Go away.
The real pet peeves are perhaps a little more subtle, but just as annoying.  Unlike those listed above, the abusers we’ll talk about now have a chance to get better with a little help from their friends.   So without further ado let’s examine a few peeves. 
Toilet talk
Need I say more?  Probably not, but I will anyway.  This is about the guy who is doing his business in a public bathroom while conducting business (?) on his phone.  I’m talking about the guy dropping bombs that can be heard down the hall, so they can certainly be heard by the person on the other end of his very significant call.   Hey Mr. Trump, if you were that important you would have a private bathroom to conduct your business.  Drop the phone before you drop the kids off at the pool.
Mr. Trump or Mr. Dump?
Shopper Talk
Okay, you come into a small store with one employee and you are carrying on a conversation while ignoring the person whose job it is to help you.  Couldn’t you finish your call prior to coming into the store?  The answer is, of course you could have.  What is the point of this idle chatter?  Do you think the person in the store cares about your gossip?  Should they stand around and wait for you to get off this extremely important call?  This is pretty simple.  If you’re going into a store, any type of store, get off your phone.  I can assure you that unless you’re P Diddy level, no one cares about your conversation, especially the people working at the store. 
P Diddy?  More like P Don’ty.
The Argument
This one confounds me.  The public argument is bad enough, but the public cell phone argument?  Seriously?  You can’t wait until you’re alone to drop f bombs to whomever it is that you’re talking to?  Inappropriate on so many levels.  I don’t care how angry you are, or how important you think this particular argument is.  What I do care about is that your angry, sometimes filthy, nonsensical ranting has invaded my ear-space.  You know when the public cell phone argument is appropriate?  Never.  The End.

The Restaurant Talker
This is similar to the Shopper Talker, but a lot more dangerous.  Here’s the thing about people who work in restaurants….they don’t appreciate rudeness on any level.  Take it from me; I worked in all kinds of them for years.  Be polite to your waiter, it is in your best interest.  Talking on your cell phone when the waiter is trying to take your order is not advisable.  Trust me on this one.  In fact, other than being a bad tipper this is one of the worst offenses you can commit in a restaurant.  Again, if you’re important enough to be taking this call while at a restaurant, you would probably have an assistant ordering for you.  If that is the case, talk away.  Otherwise, get off the phone and listen to the special of the day so you don’t get the other special of the day you probably wouldn’t be too keen on.

You look happy….I wonder what’s in your salad.
Last but certainly not least, this one needs no explanation.
The Bluetooth

Do you wear your sunglasses at night?

Tuesday, March 1, 2011

Demonizing Barbie

Why do people have to hate on Barbie?  All she ever wanted to do was have fun (Malibu Barbie), excel at her career (Registered Nurse Barbie), keep fit (Great Shape Barbie), travel the world (Cinco De Mayo Barbie), and just look Fabulous (Pink and Pretty Barbie - along with many others to be sure).
Yes, she has made a few missteps in her illustrious lifetime.  Maybe her proportions should exist in the realm of non-fiction, rather than as a hybrid cross of a sand wasp, Stretch Armstrong, and a watermelon patch.  But it stills peeves me that Barbie should be the scape-doll for so many problems.  Is that smiling plastic face really causing self confidence problems in American girls?  Are those petite feet really walking their way to the creation of eating disorders, early sexual activity, and another myriad of female issues?
The idea of evil Barbie is a personal peeve, because I spent so many years loving her so dearly.  I never thought she was real.  Never expected to look like her.  Quite the opposite, in fact.  I created, along with my favorite co-conspirator (the Ms. V), a world for Barbie filled with so much intrigue, triumph, heartbreak, devastation, and excitement that no living human could have ever been expected to survive it.  This on-going, live soap opera continued for years.  New Barbies came in, an old Barbie was demoted to a lesser role, a better looking Ken took up residence in the corvette, the dream house was remodeled.  I imagine that the whirlwind lifestyle of these Barbies continues.  (And likely would have continued even further into our childhood if the fifth grade "cool" guy hadn't sauntered into Ms. V's basement while we guiltily clutched our Barbies which should have likely been respectfully set aside in the third grade.)  They were just so hard to let go!  
If you have hardened your heart to Barbie and her cause, please see the photo of Peaches and Cream Barbie below.  (One of the greatest ever made.)  And see if that doesn't soften you up a bit.