Things That Are Currently Pissing Me Off (Updated!)

A cross-section of what's currently honking me off:

People's Energy is at it again. Despite their alleged "policy" that they don't disconnect customers for late payments from November through April, and despite the fact that I've paid them nearly $500 within the past 30 days, they are threatening to disconnect me unless I pay them $441 by the end of the week. "That is our policy," said the collections woman, when I pointed out that it is still March, "but we have waived that policy since the weather has been cooperative." So what--we have a few nice days, and suddenly it's anarchy?

I have heard nothing from HUD. Meanwhile, the roof which before I moved into this house, was certified as "sound" and "containing at least 3 years of useful life" has been removed and replaced. According to the contractors, the layers of old roofing were about 12 inches deep, and all the rafters beneath were bowed downward due to the enormous weight of the accumulated wood and tar. The roof of the addition was completely rotted and so, in addition to new gutters and downspouts, in addition to the new roofing material, I have had an entire new underlayment, and FOURTEEN new rafters. But somehow HUD doesn't think this case is worth their attention....At least someone's benefitting from it; there's a guy outside as I type this, picking through my dumpster for wood to burn.

I have heard nothing from Tim. My new windows will be delivered within two weeks, and those cats need to be GONE. I am not going to attempt to spend the entire duration of the window removal and replacement making sure that dumb-ass Cassidy doesn't launch his portly ass through one of the openings--I'm just not. It's now going on eighteen months since I had these cats thrust upon me, and there is no end in sight. I sent him a rather bitchy e-mail pointing out that I haven't heard from him since NEW YEAR'S, despite the fact that he now has a job and an income. I am fed up with him, to say nothing of his stinky cats.

My mother, my cat, and I all have colds. Mom's got it the worst, followed by Whitey; I've just got a sore throat. But Whitey's vet is all the way up in Skokie, which means a long Saturday morning ride to find out why the big guy is all sneezy. Poor kitty. And poor Mom, as well; a "little" cold isn't so little when you're nearly 77 years old.

I cannot personally bitch-slap Jack Johnson. I have, in the past, liked exactly one of his songs--"Sitting, Waiting, Wishing"--but any tolerance I had for the man evaporated the other night as I pulled into a parking lot and heard the chorus of one of his songs. Let me make this perfectly clear. "Bubbly toes" is not a phrase that should EVER enter the mind of a normal adult male, at any time, for any reason. Much less should that male then formulate an entire SONG around this phrase. I realize that my focus on this fragment of the song is perhaps unnatural, but seriously. Bubbly. Toes. What the hell were you THINKING, man???

Chloe Dao still won Project Runway. This continues to be a big WTF for me. That pink dress doesn't get any uglier the more you look at it.

That covers the bulk of the stuff that's making me mad at the moment. Thank god for reality TV, fleece blankies, and vanilla milkshakes.

Updated! because I discovered/remembered two more:

I am now OFFICIALLY sick. Hacking, snorting, snotting, the works. Minor fever. Dammit, I do NOT get sick, and this is TWICE in one season that I've picked up a cold from this diddly-danged office and its horde of pathogen-bearing cubicle-squirrels!

(probably the biggest annoyance of all) The Worst Commercial Ever. Can I confess something here? When there's nothing else on TV, or I'm between shows, or I just want some background noise, I've taken to changing the channel to the new "Sprout" cable offering. Sprout is a channel that shows nothing but PBS kids' cartoon shows, 24 hours a day. And I LOVE me some PBS cartoons. Yes, yes, I know that's odd for a 35-year-old woman, but I find them comforting somehow. They're full of the lessons I was never taught: believe in yourself, it's okay to make mistakes, stand up for what's right. They make me happy, and damn, I could use some happy. But there is a fly in this ointment: The Commercial. The Commercial is played about 15 times in the course of an evening, which would be irritating even if it wasn't the Worst Commercial Ever. The Commercial is for Huggies, and it features a little blond-haired baby boy whose thoughts are given voice...and the voice they're given is that of a half-drunk, muscle-bound, steroid-addled lunkhead frat-boy. The first words of this commercial are enough to send a bolt of hate-inspired adrenaline up my spine and send me scrambling for the remote: "UhhhOOH yeahhh, DIS is whut I call a DY-purr..." It goes on from there. "Hey moooom, can I git a personal trai-nur?" God. HATE. The voice is so exaggeratedly dumb, so intentionally annoying and STOO-Pid, that it sets my teeth on edge every time I hear it. I want to go to the ad agency responsible for this travesty, find the "creative" whose concept this was in the first place and the executive who gave it approval, and knock their heads together so hard their ears stick. I want that cute little blond-haired baby to grow up and sue Huggies for defamation of character, pain and suffering, and intentional infliction of emotional distress, and win enough money to put the company out of business forever. For every time this commercial is shown, I want to dump a hundred used Huggies at the doorstep of the Kimberly-Clark executive offices. That's how much I hate this commercial. (I'm apparently not the only one, either; I mentioned it in passing to my mom the other night, and she said "Oh, I HATE that commercial!" So I guess it's annoying across all key demographics. Great job, Huggies guys...)

I think that's it for now, but by all means, feel free to add your own!