I don’t like people very much.
I’m not perfect myself, but that doesn’t mean I have to accept the imperfections of others, especially when their imperfections are much more irritating than mine. Here are seven types of people that drive me insane.
People who laugh at the bits they already saw in the preview.
Nothing brings me greater annoyance than when people laugh at the parts of a movie they already saw a million times in the preview. When I saw The Grand Budapest Hotel, and every time a scene from the preview appeared on screen, a shamefully large portion of the audience would roar. Why are you laughing louder and harder at the bit you’ve all already seen in the ad? What are you doing? It’s embarrassing.
People who allow themselves to be introduced to you over and over again.
Fuck-face. You know we’ve met. Why are you letting this guy introduce us like we ain’t never met? You totally know this is introduction number six, and now you’ve got me playing the ‘pleased to meet you’ game, too. Fuck you for that. Fuck you, you warped, exasperating, supercilious piece of shit. The sooner you’re stricken with an incurable face disease the better.
Dudes who act different around women.
We all try to be gentlemen in the presence of a lady (I hope), but there is a breed of man who will completely change his personality in the company of the fairer sex. You know the guy: he’s ‘one of the boys’ until a woman enters the room, then he’s suddenly possessed by a soft-spoken, effeminate character who sorely needs a punch in the neck. It’s sick, it’s phony, and I can’t stand it. Be normal, you dickhead.
Dudes who wear sunglasses on the Subway.
If you wear sunglasses on the subway, you are announcing to the world that you are insecure, creepy, and just plain rude. What are you doing? And why are you grinning? Why does the prick wearing sunglasses on the subway always have that stupid grin? Wearing sunglasses on the subway should be as illegal as smuggling heroin inside baby corpses.
People who walk the streets as a phalanx.
I pay my taxes, motherfucker, so let me use the sidewalk too. Fuck these people. How inconsiderate do you have to be? Why should a single person walking the street have to make way for a party of three or more? It stands to reason that they make room for you! Men, women and children–I sink the shoulder into the fuckers; I don’t care. You don’t want to get body-checked, little Jenny? Then have some respect for your fellow man and make some goddamn room.
Mothers with bloated senses of entitlement.
You had sex, you got pregnant, you pissed something the size of a Dustbuster. Guess what? You’re not special. Women have being doing what you did since the beginning of time, so don’t expect special treatment at the supermarket; i.e. don’t ram me with your fucking pram, lady, I’ll put it back up your ass.
Writers who brag about writing from a very early age.
This last one does my head in the most. Perhaps I’m just jealous I didn’t come to ‘the craft’ when I was still in nappies, but I honestly think this is just a pissing contest amongst published authors. ‘I began writing when I was six-years-old, and I never stopped–such was my passion.’ Fuck off, Charles Dickens. You became a writer to get out of having a real job, just like the rest of us.