This Week's Top 10 Things That Piss Me Off
1. The Snooze Alarm.
Here's what my alarm clock has: three separate alarms, four different white noise settings (let's see...ocean, wind, brook and forest, I think), an am/fm radio and a blue face that lights up. As alarm clocks go, it's a pretty decent one. I've set the radio on the alarm to NPR because I like my news to have a grossly liberal slant in the morning. ("Rise and shine, fascists! Shouldn't you be out protesting something by now?") So, the radio alarm goes off at 80 decibels right in my ear and, reflexes like a ninja, I immediately hit the snooze alarm. Nine minutes later, same deal: jet-engine-loud radio followed by me hitting the snooze. Sometimes this goes on another two or three times. So, here's my beef: why nine minutes? Have you ever seen an alarm clock with a snooze alarm that doesn't go off again after nine minutes? Why not something round like 15 minutes or half an hour? Nope, you'll get three-twentieths of an hour and like it, bitch. Can't someone (I'm looking in your direction, NASA) come up with a variable snooze alarm that I can set to my own snoozing preference? We have satellites that can unlock car doors from space and refrigerators with TVs in them, yet the variable snooze alarm remains on the scientific back burner. It just seems like there's an element of Viet Cong-style torture in waking yourself up over and over and over again every nine minutes. If I wanted Viet Cong, I'd start sleeping on a bamboo mat in my guest bathroom and poop in a bucket in the corner.

...Let's stick with the asian theme. ...

2. The Guy With The Chopsticks.
I defy you to go into any japanese steakhouse in the world and NOT run across the world's largest asshole. The world's largest asshole is the guy (it's always a guy) who goes out of his way to very nonchalantly ask the waitress for chopsticks because he wants to impress his friends and co-workers with his manual dexterity. It's his way of saying, "Hey, I don't just roll out of bed this suave, folks. I have to work hard at it. I didn't just start ordering imported beer one day for the hell of it, you know. And you don't seriously think it's comfortable to wear this black leather jacket in August, do you? C'mon, people! It takes effort to be THIS cultured. A guy like me has to know how to use chopsticks." Other than maintaining his reign as Crown Prince of Asshole, what other reason can there possibly be for eating with chopsticks? I mean, honestly. Is there a more inefficient eating utensil? It's like eating with two pencils. When I see the chopstick guy, I want to walk right over and say, "Hey jerk, look around. No one here could be less impressed with your little chopsticks. The waitress doesn't care. These guys from your office don't care. The person on the other end of your cellphone conversation don't care. In fact, everyone around you secretly thinks you're an enormous dicklick for talking on your phone during the meal, but the chopsticks, MY GOD, the chopsticks make us want to beat you. I mean, seriously, we all want to hold you down and kick you in the stomach a bunch of times."

3. What's Up With The Urinal?
When it comes to public restroom use, I think I was equally traumatized in junior high by a) stalls with no doors and b) trough-style urinals. This is precisely why I still don't like using public restrooms. I remember one time in ninth grade I developed a serious stomachache right in the middle of the day and it became clear that dropping a load at school simply could not be avoided. If your junior high was even remotely similar to North Junior High in Henderson, Kentucky, I think you will agree that being caught pooping at school is maybe the single worst way to become or remain cool. At my school it simply was not done. So, it was with much trepidation that I entered the restroom hoping against hope that no one I knew would saunter into the restroom while I was seated in the stall doing my dirty business. So, as I'm sitting there sweating and straining and fighting with gravity, much to my chagrin, nature called a veritable "Who's Who" of the freshman class (our high school was so large our county's freshman were still at the middle schools) to the restroom at precisely the same time I was hunched over the can. I would not have been any more mortified if I'd walked into the lunchroom without pants on and a rock hard erection. Yet, as humiliating as that ordeal was, it still pales in comparison to even the idea of standing around a circular urine trough and whipping out my seventh grade caterpillar penis to pee in full view of five other kids. I never could bring myself to do it. What pedophile designed the circular junior high school urinal? I can see where the circular urinal couldn't be beat if the opportunity to stare at little boys' penises was the prime design objective. Unfortunately, the same crazy notion still holds a place in society today (mainly at sporting events and movie theaters) where a full wall of urinals with no dividers has replaced the circular urinal trough. Is it too much to ask to get small divider between me and the guy next to me? I don't have a bing wang or anything, but my little guy has some dignity and would like just a little privacy when he's trying to make a tinkle. This is why I always wait for a stall unless the restroom is completely deserted. I find that to be less uncouth than standing at the urinal pretending to pee, then leaving and coming back five minutes later. What can I say? I get stage fright at the unprotected urinal.

4. Mr. Businessman & His Oakleys.
Maybe this guy doesn't piss other people off like he pisses me off. He's the guy you usually see with the suit and the tie and the wingtips and the Oakleys on. To me, this guy is trying way too hard to appear young and sporty. Look, if you want to drop $150 on sunglasses, far be it from me to stand in your way. But, c'mon, guy. Ray-Ban makes a million different styles of sunglasses that are more appropriate for wearing with business attire. If you don't play outfield for a major league baseball team or beach volleyball on the AVP tour, you have no business wearing Oakleys in your mid-30s and 40s. I mean, you don't wear wristbands to work, do you? How about next casual Friday you deck yourself out from head to toe in Under Armor? Maybe draw on some eye black to cut down on the glare at your workstation. I know, I know. Were it not for your multiple knee surgeries (and complete lack of talent), you'd be in the bigs right now. But, seriously, give us a break with the sunglasses.

5. Subway.
Subway, I let you slide for a while. Out of respect for your turkey/bacon combo, I let you have a pass until now. But, you kept fucking around and now you're forcing me to call you on your bullshit in this semi-public forum. Let me recap: First you had Jared. Nice enough guy. We all know Jared. Used to be a big,fat guy with laughably huge jeans and a loveable disposition. We all recall big, fat Jared's story: He switched over to Subway food twice a day for about two years (in place of three supreme pizzas for lunch and a sensable dinner of deep-fried burritos covered in chocolate frosting) and it all worked out for him. We were all proud of Big, Fat Jared for becoming Thinner, Slightly Effiminate Jared and everything was fine. But then you sent Jared out on his world tour to recruit fat kids to try this same bullshit. You just couldn't leave well enough alone, could you? First of all, Subway, your food isn't cheap. Not if you want me to get full it's not. When my wife and I got caught up in the carb craze recently, we stopped by for two of those new wraps you guys serve and when we saw the size of the wrap we immediately ordered two more. Total cost: $23. I'm sorry, I don't recall getting steak or shrimp on my wrap. As I remember, it was fucking deli ham and fucking deli turkey on a small fucking soft tortilla. Seriously, one of those wraps is about the size of a Twinkie. Apparently, removing the carbs from the tortilla requires nuclear power thus accounting for the price hike. Anyway, the new commercials show these kids holding up their old "fat pants" saying how the lost weight by eating a healthy meal at Subway and, oh...by the way...EXERCISING! Gee, what a great idea it is for kids to get off their lazy fat asses and ride a bike or go for a jog every now and again. Great idea. Let me tell you something, Subway. I ate like shit as a child, but I exercised damn near round the clock and I graduated high school at about 160 lbs. These kids have metabolisms like hummingbirds and they can do the same damn thing. Their weight loss has very little to do with eating Subway. I mean, sure, it's nice the parents of these 11 year old behemoths finally pulled them away from the buffet long enough to put something healthy in their bodies, but 99.9% of their collective weight loss is due to the introduction of some good ol' exercise. Hell, I bet some of these kids couldn't do a sit-up without a package of Ho-Hos taped to their stomach. And, running? What's running? You mean the thing where my legs move faster than when I walk? Yeah, fat ass, running! Subway, I think you're stooping to a new low by trying to take the credit for making fat kids slightly less fat. By the way, your cookies are delicious. Where do those fit on your new low carb, low fat menu?

6. Low-Carb Alcohol.
Look, if you're concerned the handful of carbs in ANY alcohol is going to add up on you, then you drink waaaaaaaay too much and I'd lay odds on your liver giving out before you ever get down to your low-carb fighting weight. In keeping with its tradition of bamboozling the willfully stupid, I'm glad to see the alcohol industry has created yet another completely bogus differentiation point between beers and wines. And, in keeping with its tradition of being gleefully bamboozled, I'm glad to see enough of the american public has fallen for this bullshit that these companies appear justified in splitting hairs over a few carbs on TV.

7. Street Rods.
I'm sure someone with fewer teeth than me could give you a more accurate definition of "Street Rod" provided you're not averse to the phrase, "You seen one-a' them ZZ Top cars?" But, if you're asking me, I prefer to describe a Street Rod as a shiny mullet on wheels. In the same way the mullet makes a very bold statement about the person who sports it, the Street Rod makes a similar statement about the members of the inbred sub-culture who enjoy sinking thousands of dollars into shitty old cars to make them shinier, shitty old cars. Louisville, as you probably know, continues to host the annual Street Rod Nationals, prompting state officials to consider retiring the State's old motto "United We Stand, Divided We Fall," in favor of "Kentucky: Could It Be Any More Redneck?" Unfortunately, every August, when the Street Rodders roll into town and every area Shoney's begins to burst at the seams, we're reminded the answer is a resounding "yes."

8. X Games.
It took me a while to pinpoint what it is about the X Games that I just don't like. I mean, I've seen plenty of X Games events and I'm amazed at what these guys are able to do on a bike or a board. It's not that I don't enjoy the spectacle. I guess what I finally decided I don't like is what the X Games represent, which is a unnecessary broadening of the idea of sport and what it means to be an athlete. I think too many people see these young men and women as cultivating and expanding the modern american sports ideal to include the slightly counter-culture realm of wheeled entertainment. In some ways it's the same idea that led to including synchronized swimming and ballroom dancing in the Olympics. It's the basis for the argument made by motorheads that NASCAR is a sport (cough-BULLSHIT-cough). Somewhere along the way the tragically un-athletic formed a common bond in finding exercise and entertainment apart from the traditional sports landscape of balls and pucks and points. At some point, the group got large enough they established their own scene and that scene has been legitimized with airtime on ESPN and Fox Sports. But make no mistake about it, folks. These are entertainers. These are performers. These are not athletes. In fact, it's a misnomer to call this whole collection of events "games." These things are no more games than beauty pageants or monster truck rallies. And, as for the notion of X Games participants as athletes, I say no way. When I look back at the skaters and bikerats I've known during my life, I can't think of a more un-athletic group of individuals unless you're willing to call riding a bike or running beside a board athletic. Some people will say, "But what about Lance Armstrong? He rides a bike. You don't think he's an athlete?" To that I say of course Lance Armstrong is an athlete, but not just because he rides a bike. Lance Armstrong is an athlete because he rides a bike across France and into Belgium and back. I know there's probably a lot of room for debate on this topic, but in my book X Games participants are not athletes and the X Games are not sports. The fact that ESPN televises it and passes it off as such is what pisses me off.

9. Kids w/ Cellphones.
You don't need to read too many of my past blogs to know that kids and cellphones have been immortalized in the pantheon of things that really, really piss me off. But kids with cellphones...well, now it's Katie bar the door. I run across the younger generation most often at the movie theater and at church. (When I say "kids," I should clarify that I mean teens and pre-teens.) In either case, for whatever reason, nearly everyone of these little punks is prancing around talking on a cellphone. Last month at church, a cell phone "rang" (actually, it said "Hello, Moto!" three times) in the pew right behind me. It was this 13 or 14-year-old girl's phone and she could not figure out how to turn it off. I'm serious. Over the next five minutes, the phone rang two more times. She was sufficiently mortified, but I thought it was the perfect example of entitlement that makes me so angry. Here's a girl so used to having a cellphone that she didn't even think to turn it off IN CHURCH! Then, rather than step outside after the first ring to figure out how to turn it off, she just sat there dumbfounded while everyone glared at her. Wait, I have more examples. The other day at the movies I went into the restroom and overheard these two 13-year-old (I'm guessing here) boys, both of whom had cellphones, debating which girls they should call. After amply distracting me from urinating (see #3), one of them finally says, "Dude, hurry up. I gotta call my mom before 11." Perfect, I thought. Absolutely perfect. The part that pisses me off most is that there are too many parents who don't use any cellphone etiquette and these assholes pass on the same behavior to their kids. When did people start treating cellphones like fucking toys. I can see where cellphones are handy, especially for safety concerns when it comes to children, but cellphones have become more annoying than convenient. But, at least with adults, you'd expect some level of maturity and discretion. Uh-uh. Case in point: At the mall the other day this 40-something jerkoff was carrying on an overly loud conversation on his cellphone in the Women's Shoe Department and I thought to myself, "Does this motherfucker realize there are other people in this mall shopping? I bet most of us would prefer not to hear his ridiculous conversation. I hope this guy gets mangled on the escalator." Then I started very boisterously mimicking this asshole as he moved in the other direction, "Hey, look at me everybody. I'm talking on my cellphone. I'm a big boy!" My wife made me stop after about 10 seconds. I don't know why. I could've kicked this guy's ass. In my mind's eye I see me walking up to the guy and tapping him on the shoulder. When he turns around I surprise him (some might call it a "sucker punch") with a punch in the face and then, while he's dazed, I hit him in the stomach with a fire extinguisher. He drops like a load of bricks and I drop the fire extinguisher on his groin. Then, I pry the cellphone out of his hand and I say to whoever is on the line, "Listen, this guy's going to have to call you back. He's busy getting his ass kicked by a guy with a fire extinguisher." If this really happened, I'm sure someone would call security, but in my mind it all ends with raucous applause and some free merchandise from Housewares.

10. Anti-KFC Billboards.
If you don't live in Louisville, you may not have seen any of these billboards (if not, click the link). For those in the dark, several of PETA's celebrity endorsers (and I use the term "celebrity" very loosely) have agreed to be featured on billboards advocating a boycott of KFC because of its perceived cruelty to chickens. I'll start by saying I'm not in favor of torturing chickens either, unless the torture somehow makes them more delicious. Assuming it does not, I support the banning of chicken torture. (I've voted against chicken torture many times, Congressman! You know my record on chicken torture!) But, these celebrities and PETA go too far in trying to get people to boycott KFC. For the record, the chicken farms where PETA operatives filmed the chickens being tortured are not strictly KFC chicken farms. They supply chicken to all sorts of distribution points, but PETA singles out KFC because of the media mileage. Second, KFC has already pulled its contract from this chicken supplier, so why boycott KFC now? Well, you see, PETA doesn't like people eating any chickens, tortured or not. I guess the PETA folks feel the chicken's overriding ability to be incredibly filthy and flightless entitles it to life. Maybe if it were cuter, like, say, a penguin, I could by that argument, but I digress. My point is, whether they're tortured or not, the average chicken still ends split into several succulent sections and comes on a plate with two sides and a biscuit. It's a chicken's destiny to be consumed, otherwise the chicken would be smart and cuddly and do tricks. I think PETA needs to stop with this holier-than-thou rhetoric like "Stop torturing chickens!" when what they really mean "Stop eating meat!" Unfortunately, "Stop eating meat!" comes a little too close to underscoring the fact that these people are all kooks. Hell, I might buy into a little more if the celebrities were a little more, I don't know, credible. I mean, could they have come up with a couple of better spokespeople than Richard Pryor, who once caught himself on fire, and Pam Anderson, whose boob size goes up and down like the damn NASDAQ. Get this: Pam's billboard actually says, "BOYCOTT KFC. Live Scalding. Painful Debeaking. Crippled Chickens." I'll give you a second to read that again and maybe you can tell me if "debeaking" is a word. And on second thought, "crippled chickens" seems to suggest that somehow a couple of these plucky chickens actually emerge injured but alive. Pam, I've got news for you. The chickens all die. I don't know, maybe it just seems like there's a little hypocrisy from people who wear an awful lot of damn leather to be telling me to stop eating meat.