In Which I Complain About Literally Everything

This picture makes me green with envy

I hate the fact that, according to the new Oxford dictionary, the title above makes grammatical sense. Just because a bunch of idiots misused the word literally, doesn’t mean you have to change the definition of the word just to suit them. That’s like legalizing methamphetamine just because some people really, really like the drug. It simply ain’t right.

(And yes, using the word literally to describe something figurative is just as bad as doing meth. You all need help.)

Why do spiders build webs in places where they are bound to come into contact with humans? My family and I went away for a two days last summer and when we came back, there was a giant web right on the staircase of my front porch, with a big ol’ scary spider just chilling right on it. And I’m like, come on, Mr. Spider. Why would you pick this place to build your home when you know we’ll have to cross through it multiple times on a daily basis? You didn’t actually think this would work out well for you, did you?

I hate when I see a Top Ten List of something, and then I click on it to find just a list of those things with no explanation. For example, there’ll be a post like “My Top Ten Favorite Books,” and they’ll just be a list of titles that mean nothing to me. “Really?” I find myself thinking to the author of said post. “You’re not going to add at least a sentence or two to let us know why you liked this book so much?”

In other news, these colleges really need to hurry up. I’ve heard back from one of them already, (thanks, Oswego!) but all the other ones are taking their sweet ass time getting back, and the stress is literally killing me.

(God I hate myself.)

I hate how the biggest winter storm in years took place last Saturday, and it completely missed my house, probably just to spite me. I live about an hour’s drive from New York City, and New York City got record amounts of snow. So much snow, in fact, that this happened:

How much snow did I get? Less than an inch. And you can’t snowboard on a street with less than an inch of snow. You can’t even have a snowball fight without mixing some rocks into it. This leads me to wonder: did I piss off the Snow Gods or something? I’d love to know what I’ve done wrong to deserve this. 

Speaking of snow . . .

Whenever I go to the dentist, I end up waiting in the lobby for over an hour, and the only thing on the TV is either Judge Judy or Dr. Phil, and I’ve come to the conclusion that they are the two most unlikable people on the face of the earth. They’ve done more to make me care about my dental hygiene than the actual process of getting a root canal itself. If I could go the rest of my life without ever having to watch their shows again, I would die a happy man.

I’m serious here. Just the very existence of both those people makes my blood boil. WHY DO THEY HAVE FANS? I’ll never know.

How come I don’t get nominated for blog awards anymore? I know I made it clear that I didn’t want to do them, but I didn’t actually think you people would listen. 

I hate that I have no one but myself to blame for that last complaint.

I hate touching cloth and furniture after cutting my nails. 

I’m still upset that the woolly mammoths have gone extinct, because how cool would it be to have them around today? Thanks a lot, cavemen. 

I hate ending a post on an abrupt note.

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3 thoughts on “In Which I Complain About Literally Everything

    1. What a disappointment, eh? I suppose it wasn’t too bad for me, cause I was working most of the day anyway, but some part of me was hoping that it would snow so much that customers wouldn’t even be able to enter the store, and I’d have to leave by crawling out the drive-thru window.
      Oh well.

      (Thank you! Though if they take any longer, I’ll have to resort to bribing.)

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