The Pissed List: Friends Don’t Let Friends Date A**holes

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By Kari

[I like to think of myself as a pretty easy going gal, and try not to sweat the small stuff. But sometimes (ok, maybe slightly more often) the general cluelessness, carelessness and overall stupidity of some things and or/people really gets to me. I find that venting is the most efficient way to rid myself of the stress that idiots, wrong meal orders, lack of cell phone etiquette and cheese flavored products (that don’t even contain any freaking cheese!) induce.

So, in an attempt to avoid an ulcer or an unfortunate road rage incident, I vent to you, dear reader. Please feel free to join in and comment about anything–really, anything–that pissed. you. off. this week. Let it all hang out. I feel you.]

Ex-boyfriend calls out of the blue (at 3 am).

Although it would be mighty enjoyable to deny your calls during daylight hours, I just couldn’t muster up the proper amount of excitement about ignoring you as I was attempting to sleep. At 3 am. As most (okay some) college students are doing on Wednesday nights. It was, in fact, incredibly irritating to listen to my phone vibrating violently until it buzzzzed right off my nightstand, unplugged itself from my charger and died early the next morning, preventing me from whiling away my classes with interesting texts and Facebook stalking.

It seems that you still find ways to annoy the sh*t out of me, even technologically! Your call was especially appreciated by my new (and way better) boyfriend, who happened to be sleeping next to me and was quite frankly a little pissed off for the entire next day due to sleep deprivation and extreme annoyance with you. The only consolation I got from your obnoxious ass was the touching voicemail you left me (I believe you were crying) slurring on and on about how great I am. Well, I think it’s a little too late for that, mister, and so does everyone else who listened to it (aka 48 of my sorority sisters with a tendency to gossip)–although they did get a great laugh out of listening to your blubbering for 3 minutes.

Re-runs of The Office when you specifically cancelled Thirsty Thursday to curl up with Jim and Pam.

Any college student can tell you how vitally important Thursdays are to the bar, social and (for my single ladies) the sexual scene on campus (um, VERY). So it’s a heart wrenching decision when I decide to spare my liver and my wallet on the occasional Thurs, order myself an entire pizza (not that I’ll eat it all at once or anything…) and wave a bittersweet goodbye to my dressed up friends waltzing out the door with our good friend Franzia tucked under one arm. Any regret of staying in usually vanishes upon the beginning of my favorite Comedy Night Done Right component: The Office. And then it’s a repeat. I already know that Jan had her baby before the shower, that Angela gets screwed out of both Dwight and Andy, and that sadly, Michael will not win Holly back. What I do not know is how to deal with the intense anger and grief that accompanies my realization that I have 20 minutes to get ready, get my ass to the bar and start chugging before Beat the Clock is over. You may have won this week NBC, but I’ll be watching next week’s episode on Hulu while I’m hungover Friday afternoon.

Scented Candles.

It seems like I buy a new scented candle anytime I go anywhere. At the mall, it’s Bath and Body Works to splurge on White Barn. At home it’s buying fundraising candles from younger cousins or my mom’s co-workers. At Walmart it’s just me going buckwild on the candle aisle (they’re like $2.99 for a 20 ouncer! I’d be crazy not to take advantage!). Every time  I come home with a new candle, find a strategically awesome place to put it so that it matches the room’s color/vibe/purpose/season/whatev and light that bad boy up, I get a little feeling of wonderfully scented satisfaction. Fast forward to two weeks later. My formerly awesome candle just doesn’t have the same pungency. It’s not as pretty now that all the wildflowers in the wax are long gone. In fact, the wax is kind of crazy and gnarly and isn’t cute at all. And that’s if there’s even any wick left.

Most of the time it just burns down to the bottom and I’m left with a glass jar of wonderfully scented garbage. I don’t even have any surface area left in my room to put things down on. Just jars and jars of various candles that I occasionally sniff and can’t bear to throw out. I think it’s turning into a problem, so I’ve resolved only to buy 4 candles a year (so they’re seasonally appropriate, and I won’t feel bad about shelling out for Yankee Candle in the recession.). Yet everywhere I go, a new candle with some pretty ribbon or delicious scent taunts me and tries to lure me back to the dark (light and fragrant?) side…

When your roommates go on dates with a**holes.

More specifically, when I’m the designated meet and greeter for said a**holes. I have better things to do than get the door for you and make small talk while my roomie finishes making herself hotter (for your benefit!). The least you can do is be polite, don’t turn on MY TV without permission and not take the phrase “make yourself comfortable” to the extreme (removing jacket, perfectly acceptable; removing shoes and socks while you wait for 15 minutes—not so much.) And I would have thought that it goes without saying, but um, don’t be f–ing rude to a friend of the girl you’re most likely gonna try to hook up with later (because I will c&ck block you with all of my best efforts).

Being rude includes, but is not limited to: Answering my small talk with nods, only speaking to ask where the shot glasses are, proceeding to nonchalantly smoke pot in my living room, chase aforementioned shot with my last Diet Snapple, eavesdrop on me telling my boyfriend that I have a headache, or suggest that a good remedy for headaches is an intense workout—and that I should try it sometime. Don’t worry, I’ll catch your date up on your rude behavior via text message while the two of you enjoy your evening out.