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.]

Landscapers: Ok guys, I understand that you’ve got a lot of ground to cover (no pun intended) and that requires you to start the day extra early to please all of your clients, one of whom happens to be the landlord of my apartment. I have no problem with you guys manicuring the lawn (because the thought of operating any type of lawnmower scares the living crap out of me–wierd childhood fear), but I do have trouble justifying the fact that you come at 7 am every. single. Monday. Coincidentally, 7 is four hours earlier than I ever plan on waking up on a Monday. I’m sure you can understand why it could be difficult to sleep through someone weedwhacking right under my window. On the bright side, you do wake me up early enough to possibly be a productive citizen, so I actually didn’t mind my chainsaw alarm last Monday when it got me to go to the library earlier–until I walked outside and got dirt in my eyes from the huge clouds you stirred up with the leafblowers. Will you never let me have my peace!?

Tricky Ass Midterm Questions: You know when you get the breakdown for an exam ahead of time and you see that there’s a 30 question True/ False section? You know how AWESOME that is? Ok, then you also know the confusion and frustration that come along with realizing how freaking tricky your professor is. Yes, you memorized specific dates, names and details, but when you memorized the Byzantine Empire’s obsession with the color purple and your teacher throws the word “puce” into her question, what the hell are you supposed to do?! All of a sudden you’re questioning the double meaning behind all of her questions. Then you panic and rush through the section carelessly T and F-ing your way to a C-… Why can’t we all just rely on multiple choice?

Perfect Beach Days When You’re Landlocked: So I know that complaining about sunshine and blue skies probably earns me a lot of enemies still shoveling snow after this week’s Nor’Easter, but let me just tell you that living in the Sunshine State is pointless if you’re hours from any kind of beach and locked in a library. Looking out the window and imagining the countdown to Spring Break is pure torture when the closest thing to the Sea is your Marine Bio exam. You keep trying to push through your midterm studying to inch closer to Margaritaville, but that feat is incredibly difficult when the entire climate is mocking you.

Dakota Fanning: I’ve always felt that the best way to sum up my feelings towards Dakota Fanning is through Amy Poehler’s SNL skit about her. She was pretty cute in Uptown Girls. She’s a talented kid, but that still doesn’t explain the weird vibe I get from her. Like she knows something I don’t. Like after completing a Scooby Doo sequel she’ll enroll in Yale and later become head of the C.I.A. Anyway, her portrayal of the little girl who was molested creeped the hell out of me, and her new role in that superhero movie was as annoying as her superior sounding tone. And Coraline? Awesome…but creepy. And now my good friend Perez has informed me that she’ll be expanding her realm of sketchiness with a role in the latest Twilight movie. She will be playing a vampire though, so I can’t decide if her creepiness may just be completely appropriate. Thoughts?

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.]

D&G Advertisements: More specifically, the one featured in January’s Vanity Fair (page 9). I just don’t understand; why is Claudia Schiffer orgasming on a very sandy and very hard looking dock? I can think of more comfortable places. Furthermore, if I were wearing an expensive D&G silk…romper(?) and kickass stilettos, I would not want to get them dirty on some grimy beach dock (not that I wear stilettos to the beach). Add to this the two models in tweed suits apparently mentally controlling aforementioned orgasm-girl, the uber-tanned, super muscled old women and body builder in the background, and Dolce and Gabanna have convinced me that strange things will ensue if I ever can afford to buy anything from their 2009 cruise collection.

Mall Traffic Jams. As if the people who stop abruptly in the middle of the walkway to stare at a window display weren’t bad enough, I’ve witnessed a new shopping phenomenon that is just too much to handle: the aggressive shover. Most likely to be found going the opposite way of EVERYONE ELSE, they use weapons of mass disbursement to claw through throngs of people. Watch out for strollers, immense and heavy shopping bags, pointed elbows held 90 degrees from the body and, disturbingly enough, small children. That’s right, one woman held her child at arms’ length to push through a crowd. When you’re getting smacked in the face with 18-month-olds, it’s time to find a new mall.

Being sick on big nights. Namely, New Year’s Eve, which I recently had the pleasure of spending with what I think is a bad case of Avian flu (but my boyfriend is convinced it’s a common cold). It’s not so much fun to spend hours getting dressed up with your friends in your perfect, wonderful New Year’s Eve dress when you sound like Steve Urkel and you feel like someone replaced all the bodily fluids in your head with silly putty. On the bright side, losing one’s sense of smell and taste is a mighty handy tool come time for Tequila shots (it’s always good to have girlfriends who can legitimately convince you of the medicinal properties of Patron). The not so bright side? Try coughing with a wicked hangover. I spent January first with the distinct impression that tiny men were drilling the back of my head with a jackhammer, and that’s not a side effect they warn you about on the back of the Robotussin bottle.

Awkward Run-ins. This always happens when I come home from school for any extended period of time. And it always, always happens when I’m not wearing any makeup. So no, I do not want to stop and make small talk with you, girl who I had AP American History with, like 3 years ago. No, 8th grade ex-boyfriend and 8^th grade ex-best friend (both exes for the same reason…hint hint), we should not “do lunch” nor should you use that expression without a hint of irony. And I’m very sorry, friend of a friend’s cousin, but all I want to do is order my ice cream and go back home to the privacy of my room where I can avoid people who I don’t talk to anymore…there’s a reason why we lost touch.

Ok people, what pissed you off last in ’08 and first in ’09?

[ photo courtesy of ohlalamag.com]