Pet Peeves #3 - (Originally posted 6/15/08)

1. CATS. I am a dog-person as most of you know, but I do like cats. I do. But I liked them a lot more prior to moving into my house six years ago. Now...not so much. They torture my dogs, they piss in my flowerbed, torture my dogs, cry on my backyard fence at night until 2am when in heat (making me wish I was one of those women who are obsessed with shoes so I'd have some extras to throw) and did I mention, torture my dogs? The final straw - one cat had kittens and hid them under a large hosta plant in MY front yard. Guess she figured the dogs couldn't get to her, but they kept everything else out of the yard. Thanks. So, of course any time the dogs go out, momma cat is there and the dogs are barking their throats out and diving into the shrubbery to get at her. We and the neighbors just LOVE that, especially since the bark of my smaller dog, Cee Cee, sounds like Dino from the Flintstones crossed with a Pomeranian on crack, and once she gets started it's tough to get her quiet. Are the kittens cute? Yes, they are absolutely adorable and if I didn't think they'd end up a fuzzy chew-toy, I'd take one. But am I also considering getting a super-soaker to blast any cats setting a paw on my property down the block? Absolutely...if I get a noise summons...it's war!

2. VANITY PLATES. People, vanity plates are just what they call personalized license plates. Some of you pompous, cheesy-ass mofos have taken it just a bit too literally. For example, on the way to work last week my car-pool companion and I ended up behind an Escalade with a vanity plate that read, 'U NV US'. Um, no I don't. I do NOT envy your $130 fill up and your shitty gas mileage, so hopefully you were on your way to the gas station, you self-important douche. Then, on another day last week I was in the car with The Hubby. We were riding next to a very bad driver playing some of the worst ragga-reggae-disco-clusterfuck I've ever heard. Of course, homegirl was BLASTING this shit to the point where my car was vibrating. I looked over at her and my eyeballs nearly shot out the back of my head - this chick was UGLY yo. Now, I'm not one to rag on anyone's looks 'cos I ain't Halle Berry, but wow. Even The Hubby said, 'Damn, that's the kind of face that scars your retinas permanently." She then squealed out in front of us and what does her plate say? '4 U 2 HATE 2'. Are we kidding? That you're a shitty driver, listen to crap music and you're butt-ass ugly? P.S. - she was driving a HONDA. Uh-huh. Yep. Honorable mentions: Dumbasses who have plates to describe the car, because, well, the name badge and general appearance of the car just isn't enough. You know what I mean. The guy with a 4x4 who has a plate that reads, 'Daves truck' a) like I give a crap who you are, and b) there is the fact that it is obviously a truck. DUH. Other examples: red sports car driven by a blonde: 'blonde', guy in Firebird: 'johns fire'. I've got a new one for all of them: 'R-E Tarded'.

3. Tiny beverage containers that demand you use a straw. I get a Tropicana juice that's so small the straw hole takes up, like, 30% of the side. The carton insists I use a straw for a liquid that takes 3 swallows. I think I can just open the damn thing, drink it in 3 seconds and keep another piece of plastic out of the landfill.

4. That whole brou-ha-ha over Obama and his wife giving each other the fist-bump. Seriously - this is news? Reporters went on and on about this like it was some secret code. IT ISN'T, you doofuses (doofi?) It's like a high-five. A pat on each other's back. A cabbage-patchin' moment. That is all. Okay? Black people rolled their eyes at the focus on this, and The Hubby said, 'you know, we Black people just don't know how to have fun with these things. Someone should have said it meant, 'oh, that was the cue to kill Whitey'." Where's Dave Chapelle and Paul Mooney when you need 'em...you know they would have said that just to mess with the stupid-ass reporters LOL...

5. At our last gig, one of the venue's crew came up to our drummer and asked - totally serious - "do you hit like a girl?" She basically blew him off. Me, being an asshole, would have loved to have knocked him da fuck out and when he came to, asked him if I thought I hit like a girl. Or, more professionally (or not) said 'oh yeah, I hit like a girl' knowing I didn't, and then blew his damn monitor and ear drum out when I hit the snare the first time. If you have to ask some dumb shit like that, a little tact goes a long way. Ya know, 'are you a hard hitter?' works just fine, numbnuts.