Yet Another Pet Peeve (or Two)
I feel like my scrapbook is my own personal Bitching Capital of the Universe. I feel like maybe I complain a lot here, and people get annoyed that I complain so much, but… Isn’t that what my scrapbook is for? Whatever I want? Right? Well I promise to start adding nice things sooner or later, but here’s something to bitch about…
One of my biggest pet peeves EVER is inconsiderate people. I’ll get straight to the point: People who talk
loudly when they know/see that I’m on the effing phone. My roommate, the really nice one, Dean, has a new girlfriend. Her name is Brandy, and she’s… Uhmm… Odd. To say the least. I was just on the phone with Rory trying to see if she’d like to come over for dinner, but I couldn’t hear a word she was saying. So I looked up and said, “Hey, I can’t hear Rory, could you keep it down for a minute? I’m almost done.” And she looked at me like “Wtf, Omg, Ugh.” And talked louder. And more. And faster. Like, it seemed deliberate. Now she’s wandering around my apartment like she owns the place, and is trying to do Dean’s cooking.
Another thing. Mother f*cker, don’t you dare EVER spank my dog. Don’t yell at my dog. Don’t scold my dog. Don’t shove my dog off of MY couch, or I will kick your worthless ass. End of story. This girl – Brandy – just thinks it’s okay to mommy my dog like that. Not even just mommy her, but abusively mommy her! For anyone who doesn’t know, my dog, Kano, got hit by a car about a week ago, and I felt empty and alone, so I rescued a Rottweiler. She’s 6 years old, and very quiet and she’s very protective. But I know she came from a shitty home because she’s about 14 lbs underweight and barely eats. That should be enough to tell you not to freaking smack my damn dog around. That’s just cruel and it pisses me off.
So I’m sitting in my apartment, trying to bite my tongue and save it, but so far, it’s not working so well. I don’t want to ruin anything for Dean, but Brandy is the single most obnoxious person that has ever walked into this apartment.
“Did you do your homework for ____ class, Dean?”
“I’m doing it tonight.”
“WHAT? Omg, I’m 65% done with the book and wrote my whole speech – by the way this is a shitty stove. It’s electric. You need to get a new apartment soon or something.”
Now she’s clicking the metal tongs together loud as she can. And now she’s bitching about the temperature in here. Bitch bitch bitch…. Ugh, sorry, readers. I don’t know what else to do besides rant in my little scrapbook though. It’s keeping me from telling her what I think. Thank god for scrapbooks, eh?