Well, I knew this day would come, I just didn’t think it’d be so soon. There’s always a blog post that’s used to rant about things you simply cannot say to others, or out loud. Actually, that’s a lie; technically, anything can be said out loud, it’s just who’s willing to deal with the consequences and who’s not that defines whether you actually say anything or not.

Me, I’ve been called blunt. Apparently sometimes I say things that aren’t considered “polite” or “correct” by regular interaction standards, I suppose, but I honestly don’t know that I’m doing it. Okay, okay; a few times I’ve wished I could hit the rewind because it was so obvious that even I knew I shouldn’t have said it. But most of the time I genuinely don’t see where I’ve thrown out the party foul. I have a problem with giving out advice when it hasn’t been formally asked for yet (I try not to, really) because so many people come to me with their problems. I don’t think before I speak sometimes. I think it’s perfectly alright to say what I think about something if it isn’t too harsh (but apparently my definition of harsh is a little warped). Right now, though, no holds barred, I’ve got to say a few things that even I wouldn’t normally say. This past two weeks or so, I’ve found that my patience has been attached to Achilles’ chariot and sufficiently dragged and ripped and scraped to a stringy, nonexistent pulp, thanks to certain people. So this post is more for personal relief, but I will be examining the personalities of these people and not just chewing them out, so I like to call it “impassioned psychoanalysis.” (BS.) :] Enjoy, if you like. Though I will only be doing two today, because nobody wants to hear me rant more than that. Or at all.

Alright. No names will be used here, just to get that out of the way. So, first of all, we have the:

1. Flirty, Conceited, “I think I’m pretty amazing,” Human Metronome. Now, I’m in chamber choir at my school (and an a capella barbershop group as well). Our chamber choir is a chorus composed of both males and females (altos for the win). I sit on the front row in the middle, and behind me, there is a line of basses. I quite like sitting in front of the basses, for some reason I can tune better than when surrounded by tenors or sopranos. But anyway. There is a certain bass, for now we’ll call him Hector, that sits directly behind me. He is a douchebag. He has a voice, oh yes, sort of a Justin Beiber (except lower) meets Michael Buble` thing, but he’s not nearly as good as he thinks he is. Hector has a girlfriend, but seems to still find a way to flirt with everything that moves. I have actually heard him start a conversation about how “awesome” he is. Not necessarily jokingly, either. He has this little quirk – and blames it on phantom “arthritis” – he moves. Constantly. As in, bounces back and forth, wrings his hands, always keeping time (his own, mark you, not the conducted time. because his time is “better.”) on his knee or someone else’s knee or what have you. I think my favorite is when he bounces his leg to one tempo, pats his knee to another, and sways back and forth in his chair. And when I say constantly, I mean CONSTANTLY. Like I said, he apparently has “this weird form of arthritis that hurts my joints, so I have to move all the time.” When he sings solos (which, he makes sure he always has one), he cannot seem to unstick his elbows from his sides. It’s pretty funny and I don’t know if he realizes how stupid he looks when he does it, but if I told him he’d just continue bee-bopping along, humming the theme song I’m sure he wrote for himself. It REALLY gets me annoyed when he has to comment on all of the literature our director so carefully selects for us; if Hector doesn’t like it, we shouldn’t be doing it. “Mrs. Choir Director, this is LAME. And can’t we speed it up? It’d be so much better that way.” “No, Hector.” “This sucks.” all said while he’s swaying or tapping something or kicking something or what have you. He took over the male a capella group we have; as in, dominated. They do what Hector wants when Hector wants it. I just about swiveled around to him today and started yelling. “HECTOR. THE WORLD, THOUGH I KNOW YOU FIND IT HARD TO BELIEVE, DOES NOT REVOLVE AROUND YOU AND YOUR NASALLY SOUNDING VOICE. YOU’RE NOT HOT, YOU AREN’T EQUAL TO LIONEL RITCHIE, AND NOBODY REALLY CARES WHAT YOU THINK. YOUR INFLUENCE MEASURES ABOUT AS MUCH AS MY BRA SIZE, WHICH ISN’T THAT IMPRESSIVE. SO JUST STOP TALKING. WE DON’T UNDERSTAND YOU ANYWAY, NONE OF US SPEAK DOUCHE. THANKS FOR YOUR TIME.”

2. Flirty, Just Plain Annoying, “Me and my mom are BFFs,” “Don’t correct me, I’ll correct you,” Hair Flippy Soprano. Ah. We’ll call this one Lorraine. Lorraine wears size 0 jeans, flips her fried sandy-blonde hair a lot, and never fails to let any of us know that “…Yeah, I pretty much have perfect pitch. Ima try out for American Idol.” ….She doesn’t have perfect pitch. Again, this Lorraine, she has a nice voice usually. She’s actually a second soprano, “But I can hit all of those notes. I just thought the seconds needed me more.” Mmhm. But there’s something else about her…it’s her mother…Lorraine’s mother is one of those “I have to get involved in absolutely everything, look at me, I’m the booster club president, nobody likes my daughter OR myself because we are exactly the same.” It’s…it sounds harsh but it’s true. The mom feeds her daughter’s ego, and they both just jump up and down and plan fundraisers together that don’t actually benefit anyone at all. My freshman year, Lorraine’s mom pretty much snatched the spring concert from our then-director because she wanted to do some big extravagant shenanigan. She assigned us all solos that we didn’t even want, and she is the sole reason I dressed in overalls, tucked my hair up in a hat, and performed “Man of Constant Sorrow” (the O Brother, Where Art Thou? version) onstage. Sigh. Lorraine would be that person that drives in the wrong lane and wonders why absolutely everyone else is going the wrong way, and then proceed to pull over, magically produce flyers that condescendingly instruct passing cars to the “correct” lane, and then hand them out with a creepy, overly chipper, still condescending grin. Besides all of this, there is just some exhausting, unbelievably irritating air she has about her that worms its way under your skin and wriggles around and makes you want to take a shower. Ugh. “LORRAINE. I ACTUALLY ALMOST FEEL SORRY FOR YOU BECAUSE IT IS QUITE FASCINATING THAT ABSOLUTELY NO ONE, AND I MEAN NO ONE, FAVORS YOUR PRESENCE IN A ROOM. MAYBE YOUR THERMOSTAT HAS BEEN CRANKED UP FOR YOUR ENTIRE LIFE, AND YOU JUST, I DON’T KNOW, EXUDE STUFFINESS OR SOMETHING, BECAUSE THE ROOM DEFINITELY BECOMES STUFFY JUST WHEN YOU STEP IN IT. YOUR SOPRANO RINGS ABOVE ALL OTHERS, INCLUDING YOUR MISTAKES. TAKE A NOTE FROM THE DIRECTOR, WHEN SHE CORRECTS YOU, SHE’S NOT USUALLY HARD OF HEARING; YOU’RE MOST LIKELY WRONG. EVEN SHE DOESN’T LIKE YOU. OR YOUR POKEY, INSUFFERABLE MOTHER. THANKS.”

WHAT ELSE ANNOYS ME:

1. My mom has this incredible knack to ask me questions that I either, a, could not possibly, ever, in a million years, know the answer to, or b, ask me questions that are so painstakingly obvious that I simply cannot help but to answer in a sarcastic manner. Which, usually gets me in trouble, but. Yeah. I guess it’s rude and impolite to ask people to try and foresee the answer to a question, that doesn’t make sense I suppose. I don’t know; it still annoys me. And unfortunately, my mother does it best.

2. People that walk in leisure-mode when I’m trying to get around them. I understand that you have lunch right now; however, I don’t, I have to get to my math class, I’ve already walked all the way around both buildings and I don’t have time for you to stop and hug your new best friend. Please either move or speed it up; YOU actually have somewhere to be as well. But then again I guess we don’t all care if we’re tardy or not.

3. Overly happy people annoy me sometimes; usually only on days where I have low-tolerance (some would argue that’s every day.) I’m not a pessimist but…I guess the unrealistic happiness annoys me. So overt pessimism should logically annoy me as well, seeing as though something may not be near as good as someone says, it may not be nearly that bad, either.

4. WHEN PEOPLE LEAVE TIME ON THE MICROWAVE. Oh lord. this is the big one. OH MY SWEET JESUS, it just wriggles and writhes under my skin and I have no idea why. Obviously, if you put something in the microwave and take the time and effort to set it to a pre-designed, premeditated chunk of time, you should probably leave it in there for that amount of time. Even if you set it a little over for the sake of rounding, take it out when you’re done and then, why not CLEAR it? Reset? Whichever your lovely lovely microwave prefers. You did everything else; why not finish it out? Some closure, ya know? It’s just ONE button. Just ONE more. It could even be your good deed for the day; pay it forward. CLEAR THE MICROWAVE. It’s just nice, and convenient, and it is scientifically proven that the human brain favors things that are COMPLETE and WHOLE and CORRECT. That’s why we try to finish words or sentences and get upset when things just abruptly end. That’s why ending a piece of music with a dissonant or unresolved chord doesn’t sit well with our ear. You know something that’s complete? Step one: insert food into microwave. Step two: set microwave. Step three: press start; wait for time to run out. Step four: take out food. Step five: CLEAR/RESET MICROWAVE. Please. Just do it. For me. Okay? Okay.

5. Close-minded people. Just..no.

6. Fickle people…what really gets me is the people that intentionally stop liking something they were a legitimate fan of, just because it became popular and over-analyzed by the general public. (coughtwilightcough. coughmychemicalromancecough.)
It’s one thing if you genuinely find a reason to dislike something, or if the thing in question changes with fame, for the worse. But to decide you just don’t like something anymore, such as a song or novel or movie, because lots of other people caught on? That’s…indescribably irritating. I don’t care if there are rabid fangirls; represent the sane side of the fan spectrum. Don’t be a pussy. Stand up for what you like, and don’t judge other people for what they like.

7. Honesty is a big thing for me. My junior year of high school taught me a lot of things about the value of an honest person. It is now the trait I hold in the highest esteem.

What annoys you? I want to know, comment : D

Music to leave you with:

Mumford and Sons – Little Lion Man <—Crass language alert. I have to warn you guys, it’s only fair. But it’s SUCH a good song.

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