I’ve been feeling decidedly peevish since the weekend (too many chores, not enough fun) and it occurred to me that I haven’t posted a pet peeve list in a while so it’s probably time to rectify that. It’s not good to let the peeves build up for too long. You just end up with disorganized peeves running amuck and no one likes that. So, here they are:
Peeve #1: People who don’t like or don’t understand the need for pet peeve lists.
Peeve #2: No more Al Michaels and John Madden on Monday Night Football. Yeah, I know, I can still watch it on ESPN, but come on, Joe Theismann is NO John Madden!
Peeve #3: That I can’t remember how long it’s been since the Bruins beat the Trojans in a football game.
Peeve #4: That L.A. STILL does not have a football team and probably never will.
Peeve #5: Getting Lone Ranger’d. Hey, LR, fyi…that mask is dorky and I hope you and that damn horse will be very happy together. Tanto’s cuter than you, anyway.
Peeve #6: That the Packers can’t seem to field a decent team to support Brett Favre in the latter years of his career so that he can go out like the champion he is. You’d think having a quarterback like that in place would motivate you to go out and draft at least ONE decent receiver, but no!
Peeve #7: Finding my ex’s profile on a dating site and being reminded how disgusting he is (and stupid, too, since he also put up a picture of our young child for every perv on-line to see). I swear I’m not a vindictive person (lucky for him or he’d’ve been fertilizing someone’s yard by now) but every day I get closer and closer to signing him up on dontdatehimgirl.com
Peeve #8: That going back to work has impacted my gym schedule so that I’m now plateau’d only 9 lbs. from my goal weight. ARGGHH!
Peeve #9: I discovered this weekend while organizing my bathroom (love you, Container Store!) that I have a zillion lip glosses which, although they have different color names and are from different manufacturers, are essentially the same boring shade of which Laura Mercier Lip Glace in "Blush" is a perfect example. I am possibly suffering from some kind of lip gloss-related mental deficiency.
Peeve #10: That I can’t find the exact shade of rose/copper eye shadow I’ve been searching for all summer and yet, hello! zillions of identical lip glosses.
Peeve #11: That I haven’t yet figured out what the correct response is when people ask “so, how’s (insert name of disgusting, not-quite-ex-husband here)?”
Peeve #12: I can never think of amusing, catchy titles for blog entries.
Peeve #13: Laurell K. Hamilton has ruined two perfectly good novel series with her sexual obsessions. Soooo not buying the latest Anita Blake book and didn’t buy the last Meredith Gentry book, either.
Peeve #14: That Hamilton’s editor/publisher let her get away with ruining two perfectly good series.
Peeve #15: Internet dating self-help books.
Peeve #16: Dating self-help books.
Peeve #17: Dating.
Peeve #18: That because dating is stupid, I’ve been reduced to reading self-help books (dating self-help books at that!) and therefore I am pathetic.
Peeve #18: That I went to a great party Saturday night and didn’t take advantage of the opportunity to meet new people and scope out the single guys. Instead, I turned chicken and just hung out with the crowd I already knew. Good mushroom appetizers, though.
Peeve #19: I couldn’t eat more than one of the appetizers because this insidious voice in my head kept reminding me that I wasn’t going to have time to go to the gym the next day and work off the calories. I have maybe carried the whole diet/exercise thing a little too far?
Peeve #20: I look the best I have in my entire life since I was 16 years old and no one seems to notice. Double ARRRGGHHHHH!
Peeve #21: I’m 41 years old (ouch!) and still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up.
Peeve #22: Having to grow up. I know, I should’ve thought of that before I had a kid and turned 41.
Peeve #23: That I’m the kind of person who makes and posts lists of her 23 pet peeves (oops, make that 24) on the Internet.
Peeve #24: Not having any creativity left or feeling any desire to create anything thanks to the vast pit of emotional suckage that is divorce.
Peeve #25: The pair of twits who hogged the ab bench at 24 Hour Fitness last night. Listen up, kiddies, the place is a GYM. Not a singles bar. Or a hotel. Get a room for #()@&!’s sake and get the hell out of my way. I’ve got two sets of 75 crunches to do before I finish my workout and go home and I don’t have all night. The fact that you’re just laying there flirting with each other and not doing any exercising at all is SEVERELY annoying! Besides, both of you are in perfect shape and don’t even need to be there (hence, I suppose, the no exercising and the laying around trying to look cute) so go eat a donut and leave the equipment for those of us who actually need to use it. Because we are hungry, sweaty, tired and cranky and you shouldn’t make us angry. You won’t like us when we’re angry. We might stuff that exercise ball where the sun don’t shine. Get me? Good.
It’s possible I may need a candy bar now.
Extra Credit Peeve: That my new black suede peep-toe platform wedges were perfectly comfortable in the store and for the first day that I wore them (thus making them impossible to return) but now have turned into foot torture devices of the highest order. Of course, this will not stop me from wearing them because they are so damn cute, but I will be extremely, well, peeved every time I do so.