[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.]

When people preface an offensive comment with “no offense”: As in “No offense, but that dress makes you look fat,” or “No offense, but I think you are an incompetent tool.” See? It’s not a get-out-of-jail-free card. Some discretion should still be used when offering constructive criticism or an alternative p.o.v. If you’re going to insult someone, do it the right way: screaming it at the top of your lungs while dousing them with the nearest, most stain inducing liquid you can find. Don’t hide behind backhanded disclaimers.

Evil Mastermind Partnerships: Namely, the one that secretly exists between my apartment complex and every towing company in the general Tallahassee area. I’m not sure who has been blessed with visiting the glorious capital of Florida, but to sum it up: F**king humid, hilly, drunk, and insufficient parking are decent descriptive terms. There is nowhere to park. Anywhere. You can factor parking tickets into your weekly budget if you intend on driving to class. And the madness doesn’t end when I arrive at home. If my rear left tire is one centimeter over the boundary of my parking space, I can bet I‘ll be towed. And in an effort to reduce the amount of noise/fun I have, visitor parking is limited to 5 spots…for the entire complex. I’m convinced the tow truck drivers are paying them under the table to restrict available parking and splitting the towing fee profits.

And speaking of Conspiracy Theories: I’m pretty sure my favorite bar had an alliance with the ATF squad on St. Patty’s Day. Normally extremely lenient with laughably bad fake I.D.’s, my beloved campus bar denied any identification cards, military I.D’s and expired licenses. Naturally, I borrowed a friend’s fake, as I am of the under 21 persuasion and very resourceful when it comes to drinking. Not only did I have to prove my (false) identity when I left for class and returned (costing me a crisp 20), but I have to pay a $175 citation fine for getting a written Minor in Possession of alcohol arrest (those under-cover cops are good). Five months before my actual 21^st birthday. Which is an arbitrary age to put on the ability to get wasted legally and a devious plot to earn money in fines from those of us born after 1987. Fabulous.

People who don’t accept full responsibility for their actions: Especially when those people happen to be the Secretary of Treasury, Timothy F. Geithner. Geithner, a key player in the decision to bail out AIG last fall with $170 billion, claims that he simply didn’t know about the $165 million in bonuses that AIG was planning on giving. You know, no biggie. He went on to say “I was stunned when I learned how bad this was on Tuesday [March 10]. I shouldn’t have been in that position, but it’s my responsibility and I accept that.” No offense, Timbo, but saying that you don’t think it’s fair that you accept responsibility kinda cancels out the fact that you did…and it makes you sound like a prick.

1. The Facebook “Happy Birthday” – I’ve been using FB long enough to know that most people (myself included) rely on it to tell us of important upcoming birthdays. That’s fine. What’s not fine is the sheer amount of people who do not speak to me in person but have no problem wishing me a happy birthday on my wall. Here’s a tip: if were aren’t close enough for you to leave me a witty inside joke, then I don’t want your birthday wishes.

2. Getting Old – I’m old. Really old. I won’t tell you how old (you’ll have to be my FB friend for that….and then randomly wish me a happy birthday every year), but it’s not pretty over here. No more staying up all night to party and feeling great the next day. Now I have to weigh every night out and decide if it will be fun enough to be worth the 3-day hangover that will follow it up. Seriously. I never felt hangovers like this when I was in my prime (20-22). And I hear it’s only worse from here…

3. Big Birthday Parties – My birthday dinner was with 5 of my wonderful friends. I make a rule that I have to be able to talk to everyone at my birthday, otherwise why should they come? I have tons of friends who do the 30-person birthday dinner, or 60-person bar evite. Come on, people. Big birthdays are fine for big moments: 21st, 30th… I know you want to feel special on your birthday, but you don’t need to celebrate with that girl from your Psych study group. Or the T.A.. Or anyone else who only communicate with you through Facebook.

4. No More Presents - “We’re in a recession,” “you’re too old,” blah blah blah. I still want presents!  Don’t get me wrong – I’m grateful for the free shots at the bar, but I want a present that doesn’t leave me sticking my face in the toilet bowl at the end of the night. I want clothes! Toys! Jewelry! (And no, FB gifts don’t count!)

5. Can’t we get some fat free birthday cake by now? It’s 2009!

[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 stupididty 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 ettiquette and cheese flavored products (that don’t even contain any freaking cheese!) induce.

So, in an attempt to avoid an ulcer or an unfortuante 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.]

1. Health and Fitness Contradictions: Some say to eat more fiber. Others tell me to focus more on protein, and still others say to get rid of everything and stick to a diet of grapefruit and tabasco sauce. Which is it, people? Stop with the contradictory research and just tell me what is going to get me back the body I had before I discovered my obsession with bacon on my pizza. Because right now, I’m eating a lot of fiber, protein and grapefruit and it doesn’t seem to be helping.

2. A Lack of Positive Reinforcement: I don’t need people to sing to me every time I make a pee pee on the potty, but a little reinforcement for a job well done would be nice once in awhile. “You got an A on your exam? Great work!” Or, “Wow, you really know your way around a beer bong!” But no. I get nothing. Except, of course, if something goes wrong; then I don’t hear enough about it. “Jesus Christ! Who puked on the bathroom wall again!?”

3. My DVR: I know, I know. No one should ever have something bad to say about DVR. But I do, because even though I set it to only record new episodes, that thing records every single freaking episode (and rerun) of my shows. 3 episodes of Oprah a day, 10 episodes of Bromance (yes, I DVR Bromance), and like 1,257 episdoes of What Not to Wear a Week. What are the settings for, Mr. DVR? If I wanted 423 episodes of The City I would have said something!

4. Waiting for Obama to fail: Where is all the excitement around our new president? It seems that the moment he hung up his Inaugural tux, everyone turned on him. No one is waiting to see what great things he can do; they are all just counting down the days until he disappoints us. Which he will, if we have no faith.

5. Comcast Cable: (Yes, I realize that TV has made its way into this post twice, but I kinda have no life.) My cable AND internet went out 4 minutes before Obama was Inaugurated. Then they went out again before The Office came on Thursday night. And what does Comcast do? Refund me the $9 for the lack of service. $9 for the biggest political event in history? $9 for a missed moment that I have been waiting 8 freaking years for?! $9 to miss Michael Scott and Dwight Shrute lick their lips at eachother in the car (I caught it on Hulu, thank god)?! I hate you, Comcast. HATE YOU.

[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 stupididty 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 ettiquette and cheese flavored products (that don’t even contain any freaking cheese!) induce. So, in an attempt to avoid an ulcer or an unfortuante 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.]

Football game traffic.

Under no condition should any human be confined to a small metal box harnessed into their seats and surrounded by others doing the same thing. A sweet play list is only a small consolation for being stuck in bumper to bumper traffic as you jealously stare at drunken fans playing flip cup on their front lawns, hours ahead of your severely lacking tailgate level. The only thing worse than the knowledge of your slowly depleting gas tank is the realization that you are missing out on precious pregaming time.

Senseless Acts of Brutality.

I hope that the inclusion of the tragic events affecting Jennifer Hudson’s family on this list doesn’t seem insensitive, because I am pissed. The woman, apart from being beautiful and talented, seems like such a kind person that it’s hard to imagine how anyone could hurt her and her family. Additionally, the pain inflicted on their family is only deepened by the disappearance of Hudson’s 7-year-old nephew. However horribly inhumane it is to commit murder, to take a child from their home and place them in danger is unforgivable a thousand times over. I hope the guilty party is caught and subject to the same pain they put the Hudson family through.

Severe Under-appreciation for Kings of Leon.

This band kicks ass. Don’t believe me? Check them out. If you already know of them and their general awesome-ness, then you can back me up in saying “Why the F**K aren’t these guys owning MTV?” They’re huge everywhere else (they’ve sold twice as many albums in Britain than they have in the U.S.) so why haven’t we jumped on the band…um, wagon optional. Let’s hope that their tour de force of NYC builds a bigger fan base for these rock geniuses, because if I have to listen to Flo-Rida reiterating that this is his jam and demanding that I get my hands in the “ayer,” sh*t’s gonna get ugly.

Apatow Wannabe’s.

Seriously? I mean, the man has made some pretty hilarious films, but there has to be a point of saturation when it comes to comedies that revolve around pot, bromance and titties. Pineapple Express, Sarah Marshall, the upcoming Zack & Miri Make a Porno are all valiant attempts at comedy gold on par with Knocked Up, Superbad and 40 Year Old Virgin, but at some point plotlines surrounding slackers with hearts of gold and gratuitous nudity become a little much—never mind the fact that the same clique of guys stars in every.single.one. The Frat Pack has moved on, maybe it’s time you guys should too.

Survivor Style Jury Duty.

As if jury duty didn’t suck hard enough, the 12 jurors of Senator Ted Stevens’ corruption trial (who have been in session since September 22, BTdubs) are dropping like flies—or at least attempting to knock off their fellow flies. Thanks to one disturbed woman, who was “rude, disrespectful and unreasonable” aimed “violent outbursts” at other jury members, the foreman wrote the presiding judge a note, asking to vote her off the island coutroom. Uh, guys? It’s that senator sitting out there standing trial for tricking out his mansion with goodies given to him by the heads of Big Oil that you’re supposed to be deliberating over—not each other.

Ok, now that I’ve got my judgy rant out of the way I can take a bubble bath and center my chi. What pissed you off this week?