The Mad Poller What Polls at Midnight (maeincarnate) wrote,
The Mad Poller What Polls at Midnight
maeincarnate

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Airing of the Grievances

If I'm in a cranky mood today, it probably has something to do with the way my night went last night.

I was awoken at 1:45 to the sound of someone in one of the nearby apartments slamming doors and screaming at the top of his lungs. Mick said it sounded like he was yelling at his mother, but all I heard was "that's what I mean, man!" Who knows. This went on until roughly 2:30.

At around 6:00, intermittent blarings of the kind of music that comes out of a souped-up, low-riding, neon-accented, Japanese car were coming from either the parking lot or another apartment, and would play for about 30 seconds, then stop for about 30 seconds, then on again. This went on for roughly ten minutes.

Then Zeke the Cat decided that it was playtime riiight before my alarm was going to go off.

Since I am in this foul mood, I will share some of the things that have irked me over the past few days that I have been in too good spirits to either let them get to me, or to think about them long enough to bother telling them as a story:



Saturday afternoon, mac and I went to Potomac Mills to go to Ikea and then shop around at the mall for a while. Bath and Body Works was having a huge sale, so I stocked up on some discontinued shower gels (and for god's sake, why do they discontinue my favorite scents every time I manage to find a new favorite), hand soaps and this stress gel stuff. There were two registers, and like polite people, everyone was standing in the center between the two, going to the next open register as they came free. I was busy talking with Leanne and didn't notice that the girl who was behind me went to the next free register, cutting me and the two girls in front of me. She was already being rung up so there was little that we could do about it, so Leanne and I did the next best thing: engaged in a very loud conversation about how sad it is that people who didn't pass kindergarten could still get a credit card, and that it must be very hard for some people's time to be more valuable than others. It's a fucking line. It's this bizarre formation that happens whenever human beings find themselves in a situation like this one. Join the ranks of humanity and fucking stand on it.

To the woman who sat in her pickup truck for five whole minutes waiting for Leanne and I to situate all of our purchases in the trunk of my car, including my new bamboo plant, which required special attention, dug around for cigarettes, and settled in for our ride home: do you have enough sense to realize that if you had taken that spot that was about 5 or 10 down from mine that you'd probably be in the mall by now? Or are those few steps so draining? We were parked right by the food court; if you needed to re-stock those precious lost calories, you could get yourself a chalupa within seconds of being in the mall. Don't you worry.

The dryers have been "temporarily broken" at my gym since December. Rather than fix the problem, they now keep the towels behind the counter next to a sign that says that while the dryers are "temporarily broken" that we should be limiting ourselves to one towel. For a few months I felt for them. After 4 months I realized they could go fuck themselves. I haven't seen any reduction in my dues, so I refuse to participate in a reduction in services. I take three towels: one for my hair and two for my body. I have not been invited to partake in the National Geographic study that seems to be going on in my locker room, and therefore am not comfortable walking around nearly naked. The towels are about 2' x 3'. If I had a one-towel body, I could think of a lot better things I'd be doing with it than spending my Sunday afternoons at the gym. What brought this on was that on Sunday, I got a dirty look from the receptionist when I took my three towels. Don't give me that shit.

To everyone who can't figure out how those self-checkout registers at the grocery store work, you should be eternally ashamed of yourself for being so mechanically retarded. Let the checkout person who makes 15% of your salary do it for you. They are smarter than you. Or better yet, call Peapod. I'd hate to think that you managed to get a drivers license with your exemplary machine operation skills.

On my way home on Sunday, I was pulling into my "gated" parking lot and nearly hit an oncoming car. I say "gated" because the entrance side of the gate has been broken open for the past month (when I brought this up to the apartment manager when discussing my rent increase, and he told me that parts can take 12 weeks to deliver so it's not his problem), and rather than expend the energy to stick their arms out the window and slide their cards through the slot, people have just been driving out the entrance side. After I swerve to miss the first oncoming car, I approach the gate to meet head on with a gigantic Explorer, stop and wait for him to back up. I am ENTERING the parking lot. I am using the ENTRANCE. I sit there staring at the guy in the Explorer waiting for him to back up and use the EXIT so he could EXIT, and he starts shaking his head and yelling "no, uh-uh. NO way." So I sat. More cars lined up to ENTER through the ENTRANCE and he finally threw up his hands, backed up and neared the EXIT, yelling at me the whole way as I passed him. You lazy sack of shit. If you had just went out the exit in the first place, none of this would have happened. I was going the right way. It is not my fault that you are a lazy, self-important hick.

To the girl who stopped walking right at the bottom of the escalator this morning: I'm sorry I stepped on your flip-flopped foot. However, you should take this as a lesson to not stop walking in the middle of a pathway when there is a moving staircase dumping people right onto where you decided to stop and look around.



Man, that feels a whole lot better.
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