Don't You Hate It When...

 Don’t you hate it when just you and one other person are walking towards each other on the sidewalk and even though you are 25 yards away you just know you are going run into them? And even though you are that far away, you are already awkwardly dodging left and right in a sort of Tango of awkwardness? I have a special gift of being able to make the simplest scenario, like passing someone on a sidewalk, the height of awkwardness for everyone around. It's like my talent.

Don’t you hate when you haven’t shaved your legs in weeks and only realize when you walk out in public in shorts and realize your leg hair is out of control? Like you need to shampoo, conditioner, comb, and braid just to keep it in line?

 Yep. That's braided leg hair. Prepare to never make a friend again.

Don’t you hate it when you see a very large person board some form of public transportation and have an instinctual feeling that they are going to sit next to you? True story: last Saturday, on the way back to NY from Boston, one such woman (not just large, she was legitimately obese) sat next to me and it was the most uncomfortable bus ride of my life as she was too big to fit in the seat so her body spilled over (and crushed) my body. On top of that, she fell asleep and couldn’t control where her arms went so she ended up using my hip as her personal armrest. Though I continually tried to shake it off, it couldn't be stopped and her ham-hock of an arm pressed into my hip as she snored with sounds that made me question whether she was living or dying. Needless to say, I did not sleep at all.

 This was my night...

Don’t you hate it when you think about people like the Kardashians having an almost billion dollar empire while you are brooooooke? Seriously. If I can make that much money for making a sex tape with some crappy R&B star, sign me up. Just kidding. I have some self-respect. I’ll have one with a really good R&B star. Like Chris Brown. I’m sure that would be a hit. We would knock it out of the park. Hit ‘em with the ole one two punch. It would really be a combo that couldn’t be beat. (See what I did there?)

Nothing but the hitzzz 

Don’t you hate it when you are watching a sporting game of any sort (I mean the ones that matter, obviously) and your team starts to lose and you are automatically convinced it has something to do with you?

“The minute I crossed my right leg they started to miss shots! UNCROSS IT!” “Whenever I take a sip of my drink, the other team gets a hit! DIE OF THIRST!”

“My roommate just came into the room and one of the players got seriously injured! KILL HER IMMEDIATELY”

Don’t you hate it when you’re just about to fall asleep and your roommate finally comes back from partying all night smelling like alcohol and shame? Just kidding. What I really hate is when you’re just about to fall asleep and you hear a noise. Now, in your mind you know that it’s just the air conditioner turning on or the rattling of a pipe but in your heart you’re like, “There is someone in my house and I am going to die and this is going to be the last thing I ever hear or see and I wish I would have been nicer to my parents and I wish I would have told Katie Buhler how funny I think she is and THIS IS WHAT DEATH FEELS LIKE.”

Don’t you hate it when you see a commercial on television that is literally one of the stupidest things you’ve ever seen? (I’m looking at you, Flo from Progressive) And then you realize that the people who come up with these stupid ideas are getting paid really solid money to do so? You just look at it and think, “Well this is stupid. I could have come up with something better as a five year old.” Then you realize that all your creative juices are being used up by college while the idiots behind the Progresso soup-can-phone commercials are making money. Then you go back to trying to read whatever ridiculous book you’re reading for class (FYI, this week is In Cold Blood and A Rage In Harlem) while eating Ramen Noodles aka the only things you can afford.

No one hates me as much as I hate myself 

Don’t you hate it when you’re the funniest person in the room and everyone laughs at everything you say? It’s like “I know, I know. I’m hilarious. Now how about you bring something to the table?”

Well, let’s be real, that one probably only happens to me.

Let's Talk Sports

I watch basketball like it’s my job. I’d sell my soul for tickets for the Boston Celtics in the playoffs (but let’s be real, I don’t think my soul would fetch that much. Damaged goods).

Also, just an FYI but Rajon Rondo and I are going to be married and will have athletic and academically gifted mocha babies.

Clearly he's down 

But I’m going to be completely honest, there are a bunch of sports that make zero sense to me. And considering the fact that they only seem to show up every four years at the Olympics, I’m not even convinced they’re real.

I mean, think about bobsledding. How do you discover you’re good at bobsledding? Can you go to college for it? How do they decide where you fit on the bobsled? Can you be a pro-bobsledder? How do you bobsled during the summer? Can you be scouted for bobsledding? Do you make enough money bobsledding to have that as your only job or do you also work as a plumber or an Abercrombie model? Is the word bobsled starting to sound weird to anyone else?

And what’s the deal with curling? First of all, I take issue with that name on the grounds that it is utterly ridiculous. Secondly, if you were trying to explain curling to someone who’d never heard of it, they would think you made it up. “Uh yeah you stand on ice and one of you takes like this rock/boulder/ball thing and you just sort of shove it on the ice and then the other people on your team use brooms and like smooth the ice and steer the thing and you try to knock the other team’s boulder out of the way.”

It sounds like someone made it up when they were drunk (Note to self: see about inventing a new Olympic sport next time drunk)

 We had a couple shots of tequila and then...

Maybe sports like that make more sense to British people. They play curling, right? (Note to self: figure out whether you “play curling” or “curl” or something else) They also play polo and cricket and croquet. I’m going to be honest, I really don’t understand the rules of any of these games but I think one (or all) of them involves something called a “wicket.”

When you Google "Wicket," this is the first thing that comes up... 

I know polo involves a horse but I think that riding horses around (and potentially into) other players while carrying a stick seems a little dangerous and I can’t imagine the horse being a fan.

They don't know what's going on either

I know that cricket is like baseball but instead of bases you run between sticks an indefinite amount of times and there is a lot of shouting and sexual tension (at least according to The Wedding Date)

Mrs. Messing, are you trying to seduce me?

I know that croquet involves hitting balls with a mallet around a well-manicured English lawn while your chaperone holds your parasol and your gentleman caller pays you compliments Please note: I’m assuming no one has played croquet in earnest since Oscar Wilde’s day. (See what I did there?)

 My dear, wait until we're married and I'll show you my mallet (That's what she said)

When it comes to more Americanized sports, there are still some that I just don’t understand. Take bowling for instance. Maybe I don’t get it but why is it such a big deal for a professional bowler to get a 300? I mean, if I can scrape up a 160 the one time a year I go bowling without knowing how to do that little ball-spinny move, why can’t they get it perfect every time? I also take issue with bowling shirts. I understand why other sports need uniforms but is your bowling really going to be effected if you wear a t-shirt instead of a bowling shirt? Seriously. Bowling shirts never looked good on anyone. Ever. (Except maybe Pacey Witter #dawsonscreek)

 Pacey Witter: Forever in our hearts

I’m also confused about the fact that golfing is a legitimate sport that requires skill but its younger sister, Mini-golf, has been tragically overlooked. Don’t try to tell me it doesn’t take skill. Clearly you’ve never tried to get a ball around the rocks at Pirates’ Cove.

 I'm going to need a nine iron...

I don’t know, guys. Maybe I’m just cut out to be a one-sport kind of girl. Plus, I’m not sure Rondo would want our children playing sports like polo. Might hurt his rep on the street. As it is, I think I’ll just stick to the Boston Celtics and hope they can win banner #18 this year. And if that fails, let’s just hope Miami Heat chokes in the finals again because I love LeBron James jokes and I’d like to have a yearly photo of a komodo dragon Chris Bosh crying.

She Doesn't Even Go Here!

“OMG Danny DeVito! I love your work!”

I’m going to make a bold claim here but I would like to see someone contradict me: Mean Girls is the defining film of my generation (at least for girls). There are not enough words for me to describe its epicness but here are my top five reasons why it's so great.

5. Post-Parent Trap Pre-Downward Spiral Lindsay Lohan

I don’t think I need to go into to much detail about my love for Lindsay Lohan. I know I’ve mentioned my love for The Parent Trap at least twice on this blog and if you don’t remember it, maybe you should just go back through and read them all. That movie is like a cake of rainbows and smiles. Anyway, Mean Girls introduces us to the brand new grown up Lindsay Lohan and it’s great! She’s got the world at her feet and none of us can imagine all of the great things she’ll do. Fast forward a few years and not only is she a drug-addict, probable-alcoholic, shop-lifter but she did the unforgivable and dated Fez from That 70’s Show. I mean, how do you come back from that?

But we can always watch Mean Girls and relive that wonderful time when Cady Heron was the coolest Ginger Plastic of all time.

4. Introduced Us to Amy Poehler

Remember Amy? Before she was Leslie Knope on Parks and Recreation, she was the “cool mom” of Regina George. The one who brought in virgin margaritas and wanted to know “the 411” because those girls “keep her young.” She’s also the mom who danced along to her daughter’s slutty musical number “Jingle Bell Rock” and let her young daughter dance and sing to Kelis’s “Milkshake.” And who can forget that nasty little Chihuahua chewing on her surgically enhanced chest. Really, what’s not to love?

3. Introduced Us to Tina Fey

Yes, yes. I know both Tina Fey and Amy Poehler were in the Upright Citizens Brigade and on SNL but when Mean Girls came out I was fourteen and those two things weren’t even on my radar. But who can forget how awesome Ms. Norbury was when Damian said, “My grandma takes her wig off when she’s drunk” and Ms. Norbury quipped back “Your grandmother and I have that in common.” As if that wasn’t great enough, remember when you first found out that SHE was the one who wrote that movie? It’s like Jesus and Betty White had a baby and it was Tina Fey. Now, of course, everyone knows Tina Fey, and Tina Fey’s Sarah Palin, and Tina Fey’s Liz Lemmon, and Tina Fey’s books, and Tina Fey’s greatness in general. But we all know that deep down, she’ll always be Ms. Norbury to us.

2. The Best Apologies of All Time

I could go into more detail here and list exactly why the apology scene is one of the greatest things of all time. But why tell you when I can show you?

1. Dare I Say… Most Quotable Movie of All Time

I’m sure some of you disagree but I can guarantee that if you went up to a girl between the ages of 18-26 and said a line from Mean Girls, they would immediately recognize it. So with no further ado, I’d like to present you with some of the greatest gems from Tina Fey’s mind. As a fun little bonus, I’m not going to tell you who said these quotes so good for you if you can identify them all.

“That’s why her hair’s so big. It’s full of secrets”

“I can’t go out *cough* I’m sick”

“Boo, you whore”

“Taylor Zimmermann, two for you. Glenn Coco? FOUR for you, Glenn Coco! You go, Glenn Coco. And uh... "Caddy" Heron. Do we have a "Caddy" Heron here? Oh Cady, here you go, one for you... And none for Gretchen Wieners, bye.”

“Hell, no. I did NOT leave the South Side for this!”

“You Puerto Rican?”

“Lebanese”

“I feel that”

“Oh my God, Karen, you can't just ask people why they're white.”

“God! I am so sorry Regina. Really, I don't know why I did this. I guess it's probably because I've got a big lesbian crush on you! Suck on THAT!”

“Don't have sex, because you will get pregnant and die!”

“Irregardless, ex-boyfriends are just off limits to friends. I mean that's just like the rules of feminism.”

“Gretchen, stop trying to make fetch happen! It's not going to happen!”

“One time, she punched me in the face. It was AWESOME.”

“And on the third day, God created the Remington bolt-action rifle, so that Man could fight the dinosaurs. And the homosexuals.”

“Most people think I'm lying about being a virgin because I prefer jumbo tampons, but I can't help it if I have a heavy flow and a wide-set vagina!”

“Raise your hand if you have ever been personally victimized by Regina George.”

And with that, I leave you with the sincere hope that you live every day like you’re Glenn Coco.

How Food Network Ruined My Life

I’ve got a food related confession to make.

No, assholes, I’m not confessing my bulimia to you (You’ll have to tune into my episode of True Life for that).

I am addicted to Food Network and it’s ruining my life.

Here’s how.

1) Eating At Restaurants

            There are numerous shows on Food Network that seem to exist for the sole purpose of destroying your appetite and making you afraid to eat at restaurants. (I’m looking at you Restaurant Impossible and Restaurant Stakeout) But no single show has turned me off from restaurants more than Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives. It’s not that the food looks bad (in fact, it always looks delicious) or that the places look unsanitary. It’s simply that the host of “Triple D” is one of my least favorite people on the planet. Seriously. If you were to look up “Douche Bag” in the dictionary, I’m pretty sure it would just have a picture of Guy Fieri next to it. I can’t pinpoint exactly what it is that I hate the most about him: the jewelry, sweat bands, baggy shorts, bowling shirts, skate-boarding shoes, backwards sun glasses, or the hair. Wait, scratch that. I think it’s definitely the hair. And now, whenever I’m in a restaurant, I’m terrified that Guy Fieri has been there before me and I’ll find little chunks of gelled, peroxide bleached hair in my food. These are the fears that keep me up at night.

I don't want THAT anywhere near my food

2) Birthday Cake is Ruined for Me

            I use to love cake. In fact, during Cross Country season in high school I made about one cake a week. But now, it’s ruined for me. Thanks a lot Duff & co at Charm City Cakes from the fabulous show Ace of Cakes. Now, when I see cakes in person, all I can think is, “eh I’ve seen better.” When I see some weak-ass sheet cake, my mind flashes back to numerous episodes where Duff and the gang made ridiculously sweet (pun intended) cakes. Then I sit there, depressed, chewing on my own, not-as-good cake. #firstworldproblems. Also, I know the people who made my cake aren’t having as much fun as the stoners at Charm City Cakes and it makes me sad for them.

 Seriously. That's a CAKE they made. A CAKE

Don't try to tell me they aren't all high. Just look at Geof

3) Unrealistic Sexual Expectations

            Now if you’re thinking to yourself, “I thought we were talking about food. What do sexual expectations have to do with that?” then you’ve clearly never watched an episode of the Down Home with the Neelys. That show is filled with filthy sexual innuendos courtesy of Pat and Gina Neely. Not that I have a problem with people getting down and dirty (especially if they’re married, I mean, good for them for keeping the magic alive) but it is almost impossible to watch this show without wanting to take a shower after. Pat and Gina basically use their show as extended foreplay and it is very uncomfortable (or very hot, if you’re into that sort of thing) for the viewers. Now, whenever I’m in the kitchen, I’m half expecting some big black guy to come hit on me (or Latino or White or Asian. I don’t see in colors. #trayvonmartin Seriously, please check this out.)

 "Join us in the kitchen as we make you feel uncomfortable"

4) Levels of Pretension on the Rise

            If you’ve ever watched Food Network, you know how important it is to be pretentious. I’m actually about 87% sure that before you get a job on the network, you need to be able to show you are insufferably arrogant. Considering the fact that I’m already insufferably arrogant, Food Network has just completely ruined me. Although I know less than nothing about food, after watching Food Network, I go around talking about how “the balance between flavors was off” or “the plating of the meal looked decidedly amateurish” or "they should have used some sweet element to cut the bitterness of the dish.” Unsurprisingly, people at McDonald’s don’t seem to care.

 If you don't have anything nice to say... say it on national television

5) Unrealistic Ideas of My Own Cooking Abilities

            Possibly my favorite shows on Food Network are Chopped, Sweet Genius, and Iron Chef. The basic premise of these shows is that contestants are given random ingredients and a limited amount of time in which too cook. Then, their dishes are critiqued by expert chefs and the contestants are made to feel like crap about themselves and their abilities. The crazy thing is, though, the people on these shows are so skilled that they makes some crazy awesome stuff out of ingredients that they’ve never even heard of before and ingredients that shouldn’t be mixed together. Unfortunately, I do not possess these same skills. That doesn’t stop me from trying, though. “Let’s see what we’ve got here… some cow tongue, quince paste, Havarti cheese, and BBQ potato chips? Oh, I bet I can make something awesome out of this.” False. You can’t.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how Food Network has ruined my life. Although, I will say that it has not lessened my appetite in anyway. In fact, it’s increased my appetite. Yesterday I had 3 whole wheat thins AND a grape! Next thing you know, I’m going to balloon up to 85 pounds.

Don't Panic!

I've spent my last four days writing papers and reading books. That, combined with the fact that I have a six day vacation beginning now, means that I've put off writing a blog.

Not to worry, though. Check back tomorrow morning at 8/7c and there will be a brand spanking new edition of KB Thinks For You.

Also, I guess if I'm being completely honest about my activities the past four days, I should include that a large portion of my time has been spent listening to Robyn including for an hour straight on Saturday with my favorite roommate (just kidding, I hate them all equally).

Group Projects and Why They Suck

So last week I wrote my blog about things that people do in class that piss me off. That seems to have left me with a serious case of bad karma.

That, or the fact that I laughed really hard at this exchange from “Saved By The Bell” the other day:

Mr. Belding: Who’s in charge of food?

Alan (the fat kid): I am, sir.

Zack: Who else would be?

Alan: Stop with the fat jokes or I’ll sit on you!

Zack: Ooo this is getting heavy.

Mr. Belding: What kind of food is your committee serving, Alan?

Alan: Chocolate fudge cake, strawberry shortcake, hot fudge sundae cake—

Zack: Man, you’re going to have to grease the door to get home, Alan.

Anyway, back to my point, my karma was not great.

The result of this was the one thing that I hate more than annoying people in class… group projects… with the annoying people in class.

I started out this week with a group project. And included in my group was my least favorite person from class. Ain’t that always the case?

Obviously I hated the group project for this reason alone but I hate group projects on principal.

First of all, I am clearly the smartest person any of us have ever met. Good. Glad we’re all agreed on that. Let me ask then, how is it fair to me to be put in a group with inferior minds?

It’s just cruel.

Not to them but to me. Let’s face it, for them, it’s basically like letting Albert Einstein do your fifth grade science fair project. It’s not even a challenge for him (or me, in this situation) but you’re going to get an “A” for doing nothing anyway.

In this case, I am the gift and the servant while you are the wrapping paper

What is a challenge is dumbing myself down to fit the level of my group. The worst is when someone in my group makes an inane comment that makes me whole heartedly agree with Obama’s birth control mandate and wish it had been in place about 20 years ago. Instead of rolling my eyes and laughing at the failure of America’s education system, I have to delicately find away to show that I appreciate the effort they are bringing to the group but that everyone would appreciate if they would put in a little less effort. And by, “less effort” I mean, “leave.”

If you think this sounds harsh… well… that probably means you were that person in group projects. Sorry to break it to you.

Sorry to break it to you #sorryimnotsorry 

I also take issue with the fact that my grade will in anyway depend on someone else and their abilities. If I do work that deserves an “A,” give me an “A.” If I do work that deserves an “F,” give me an—haha jk like that would ever happen. All I’m saying is I want a grade based on what I brought to the table. Not a grade based on what Jimmy (who comes to class high after not doing the reading) or Sally (who I can only assume was dropped on the head repeatedly as a child) bring to the table. Because, let’s get real, the only things they are bringing to the table are STD’s and a future of alcoholism and reality TV show appearances.

At least one of these people was in my group

Now, I know the reasons we do group projects. I know you’re expected to work as a “team player” in the business world. I get it and I appreciate it and I really don’t have an argument against that.

Other than the fact that anyone who has met me knows that I am destined for so much more than a job that requires group work.

Let’s face it, with my unlimited potential, I think we’ll all be surprised if I haven’t EGOT’ed by 25, won the Pulitzer and Nobel Peace Prize by 30, been elected president by 35, and been arrested for masterminding a billion-dollar ponzi scheme by 45.

And in none of those things will I need to use “teamwork.” At least, not until I bust out of prison with Squeaky Fromme and Martha Stewart but I think the three of us would get along just fine.

Best Friends for life! It's almost like we're part of a family...

KB's Top Five Ways To Piss Me Off: Class Edition

My time at school is rapidly coming to an end.

Thank the Lord because I’m so sick of reading countless pages of classics by Dickens, Stein, Thoreau and the like (#humblebrag). I’m also incredibly tired of slaving over analytical essays only to get them back with an “A” and a “great job” hastily scribbled on top (#humblebrag). I’m bored with lectures about the religious allegories in Moby Dick (#humblebrag) or the Cubist influence on Ezra Pound’s poetry (#humblebrag).

But mostly what I’m sick of is you, person sitting near me in class. (#notkidding #ihateyou)

Because I’ve spent the last few weeks of classes contemplating how to kill that person while making it look like an accident, I’ve decided to vent my frustrations in yet another installment of KB’s Top Five Ways to Piss Me Off.

5. Bringing Food to Class

I’m going to be honest, you guys. I don’t understand the draw of eating food in class. I’m never more self-conscious than when I’m eating. Am I crunching too loud? Do I have food in my teeth? Am I swallowing really loudly? What if I choke?

I can’t even imagine bringing my food neurosis into the classroom yet every day there is at least one person who brings a full five-course meal to class—complete with candles and a nice Chianti.

 How about some fava beans and a nice chianti?

Most of the time, the food is either super noisy (it’s déjà vu all over again) or very smelly. Yesterday, the girl in front of me was eating an orange which basically made the whole room smell like someone was disinfecting the place while the other day someone was eating Cheez-its and sent that terrible burned-cheese smell wafting all over the room. I just don’t get it. Our classes are 1 hour and 15 minutes long. Can you really not wait until after class? Are you really that hungry? No. I can tell you right now that you will survive an hour of hunger. It’s not like you live in Africa or something.

4. Sitting in Front

I know I could bitch about the people who sit in the back of class just as easily but I’ve always had a problem with suck-ups more than slackers. If you sit in the front row of seats, I already know you are the antithesis of me and have already decided to hate you. See, by your sitting up front, I know that you will be the type of person who makes comment after comment and laughs at every single stupid little joke the professor makes. I also like to flatter myself in thinking that the professor can see right through this act and that they loathe you and your over-eagerness as much as I do.

As a matter of fact, yesterday, my class was held outside and one such person was so excited she could barely contain herself. Seriously, it was like a puppy. I half expected her to chase a squirrel up a tree and then relieve herself in the grass. However, she was content merely waving in the most obvious manner possible to a passing friend while whipping out her Lisa Frank folder (no joke). Due to the ridiculousness of the situation, I couldn’t hold in my smirk. Those who know me well know EXACTLY which smirk I’m talking about: the “omg-look-at-this-idiot-then-check-out-my-evil-smirk” smirk. The teacher happened to catch both the wave and the smirk and I am convinced she smirked in return. That’s what you get, Front-Row-Sitter.

 This might be the exact folder the girl had

3. Pen Clicking

I (click) can’t (click) stand (click) when (click) you (click) click (click) your (click) pen. It makes me want to “click” your pen where the sun don’t shine. It is the most annoying sound in the world. I know I’m not the only person who feels this because with each “click” I see backs around the room straighten. Jaws clench. Eyes dart to the perpetrator. Loud sighs or scoffs. Yet the pen clicker is a special breed of person who has no awareness of anyone around them and continues clicking their pen in peace. And I (click) continue to (click) premeditate (click) murder.

 Seriously, Brad. Cut it out.

2. Going to the Bathroom

I would like to preface this statement by saying that I know there are emergencies and that is not the situation I’m talking about here. Remember when we all got to college and realized with wonder that we no longer had to raise our hands or get a hall pass to use the restroom? You could just stand up whenever you felt like and go with no excuses and with no permission. Yes, truly, this was freedom.

 This is what freedom from bathroom tyranny feels like

Since the first few weeks however, the novelty has worn off. Now that I’m a few months away from graduating, one of the last things I feel like doing is waking up from my nap in class long enough to get up, fight my way through the aisles, inevitably struggle to open the door before having it slam shut at a surprisingly loud decibel level, and head to the bathroom. Like I said, class isn’t that long. I can wait. Unfortunately, I’m one of the few people who seems to feel this way because my classes have become something of a duck-duck-goose game where someone is always running around or sitting down or standing up. Honestly, it’s disrespectful to the professor and disrespectful of those of us who are trying to get into a REM cycle.

1. Taking Diligent Notes

I do know that some classes require you to take notes. Trust me, I have a chemistry major for a roommate, I get it. She has countless notebooks filled with nifty little diagrams and equations and formulas. Or, so she tells me. I’m not convinced they aren’t just doodles like the ones that fill pages of my notebooks. I don’t have a problem with notes like that.

 Not actually my doodles but I appreciate the dragon.

What I do have a problem with is people writing down every word that falls out of the professor’s mouth. 5% of my tests are being able to identify an author and title of a work by reading a few sentences of it. The other 95% is managing to bull sh!t some barely coherent response to said work that is just vague enough to seem deep and insightful. Neither of those things are helped by you writing down the fact that Ezra Pound broke a chair in Gertrude Stein’s house in Paris (which he did) or that the last thing Herman Melville was working on before he died was Billy Budd, Sailor (which it was). That stuff simply isn’t important unless you are a contestant on Jeopardy. Let’s be honest, I’ve definitely thought about it ("What is, Melville sucks, Alex?"). But unless you are training for a game show, there is no reason for you to write it down. So… STOP IT.

And with that, Friends, we’ve reached the end of another installment of KB’s Top Five Ways to Piss Me Off. And, as always, I’m left feeling angry with the never-ending stupidity of people, sadness that I must live among such people, and frustration that there are so many more things I want to complain about.