UGGGHHH!!

You know what really grinds my gears? These things never cease to annoy me when they occur and are always followed by the sentiment of “UGGHHHHHH!!” Feel free to add yours to the mix I’m sure I forgot a bunch of things…

1. Lollygagging

Contrary to popular belief, walking has rules. It’s NYC why would the millions of pedestrians be exempt? I’m just sick though of having people walk in front of me, block my path down some stairs, and/or wandering aimlessly in MY WAY. If you’re lost, confused, need a minute – just step to the damn side and allow me to catch my train, go to work, get to the store, or do whatever I need to do. Move with a purpose..sheesh.

2. Spreading Your Disgusting Germs

As the winter (and cold/flu) season is upon us – I am sick of people just “Ahhhhhheeechhhk” “Chu-chu” without COVERING THEIR MOUTHS. We learned this lesson in Kindergarten which I am positive 100% of people were able to complete. I always wrinkle my nose, hold my breath until invisible germs have dissolved into the air and I think it safe to breathe but why I gotta do that cuz you want to be nasty?

3. Unprofessionalism

Listen, I don’t know the intricacies of getting some of these jobs but I DIDN’T WANT THEM. I also take my job kinda serious. You knew what you were signing up for – if you didn’t then go read your manual. All of these people who work in customer service but HATE ppl :-/ not my problem. All the people who decided to work and never thought they would meet an actual OFFICIAL person and have some accountability – spare me. Just don’t think for a second I won’t tell you (and your manager if you really annoy me) about yourself because you can always quit, go into a business better suited to your unprofessional ways, or go to (job) hell.

4. Dragging Out the Simplest Things

I recently had to drop off paperwork for some public assistance (I am NOT ashamed). THAT WAS IT. I could scan some papers, check some boxes on a computer and say hello in about…hmm..2 minutes? But nah, because I’m a part of this system I just HAVE to wait. It has to be in the Government’s DNA to scorn all people seeking assistance by making us wait for the simplest tasks in the world. But the lady hooked me up so even after I said Uggghhh, I was only forced to wait a cool 2 hours. Thanks for the hookup! This also applies to when you want to buy ONE thing and EVERY line has a bazillion ppl lined up and all you want to do is get the hell out of the place. Many a dime has been saved in these scenarios because the lines usually win and I go about my business.

5. Invading My Personal Space

I have a 2”x 2” invisible box that is my personal space. Even on a crowded train this space exists (it may be reduced by an inch but it’s still there). So when anyone decides that holding the pole right above my head is cool, or spreading their legs to the length of a wingspan is alright – I’m annoyed. Leaning on the train doors is meant for 2 people MAX. That little corner seat on the train is meant for ONE. And when in doubt if you’re uncomfortably close, touching me, or in my damn area back the hell up.

6. The “Pardoned” Caress

I think my sentiments about the club are in this category too – but I don’t want to put my old recreational activity on blast just yet but there is the pardoned caress that happens. You know when a guy wants to pass you and instead of saying “Excuse me” like a normal person – they decide to rub and caress your lower back as if he also has to pardon your ass before he moves. Maybe I have intimacy issues, maybe I’ve been single for way too long – but why you rubbin on me like thaaaaaaat?!?! I don’t caress any dude’s back or give him some 5 minute massage preview when I’m trying to move because he’s a STRANGER and I’m just trying to MOVE. Nowhere in that equation should faux-intimacy and apocryphal moments of tenderness pass.

Since My Personality Has Rendered Me Dead To Dating

I lounged at home flipping through one of my old Elle’s magazines looking for fabulosity and flyness and as always had to read Ms. E. Jean’s advice column. I am addicted to comedy come from the often silly, sometimes ridiculous, always entertaining titles and gushings from these people. Apparently my hubris up until that point allowed me to think of myself as just another person finding comfort in other people’s mess until I read the final line in this Ask E. Jean: Picking Up the Dude’s Vibe.

Contrary to the title’s message, this flabbergasted, flustered, femme (FFF as she will be referred to in this brief summary) was shocked into emailing Ms. E. Jean by the discovery of something. Picture scenario:  FFF has boyfriend of 3 months; he moves to a new place; boxes are everywhere when FFF visits said new place; FFF comments on the boxes everywhere; boyfriend laughs (type of laugh not mentioned- but may be of some relevance) and points to the vibrator on the coffee table that belonged to his ex-fiancee; but as boyfriend quickly adds “has been cleaned and sterilized and is still fully operational.” POW. That was the personal Pearl Harbor gem FFF was dealing with.

FFF’s need to talk about it while boyfriend is at work, her question about his feelings, and his eventual Houdini disappearing act prompted FFF to seek some type of post-bomb shelter in Ms. E. Jean. And of course being the direct debutante I’ve come to like E. Jean ends her advice to FFF with:

 “Talking kills your mystery. And when you kill the mystery, the guy does not call back.”

BOOOOMMMM! There went my personal Pearl Harbor gem dropped in my face.

I’m a talker. I’m known for this. It’s like when you think of Anne one of Top 5 thoughts after knowing me is “man that girl can talk,” “damn you talk fast,” or “how did you end up on that topic?” My college roommate used to say that “Anne lives vigorously in the real world” and well to the extent that I am also real with myself – shit I know I talk a lot.

Suddenly E. Jean’s pairing of talk and mystery brought it all home and shed a little light on why my dating – and by dating I mean ACTUAL dating, not just fucking as I believe many blacks have come to use the word (another post- another day I.J.S.) has been DOA.

I also took E. Jean’s talk/mystery combo and combined it with what my friends tell me “Anne, you gotta tone it down” or “You know how you do, just don’t say too much” and got some more insight into the lack thereof of a viable bench of potentials. Truth be told most of my friend’s advisements were met with questions of a wide-eyed girl. Seriously. How does one “tone oneself down” but not look crazy after the volumized you comes out 2 months later? How am I supposed to “not say too much” when guys ask questions and hell, there’s nothing else to do BUT talk on a damn date? How do you reel yourself in? When do you reel yourself in? 

Reading a very prominent personality trait you have as a reason a guy doesn’t call back leads to public therapy by way of this blog post, but really it might have been the CPT working and CPT – Couch Potato Thoughts are real.

When else do you have time to ruminate in the thoughts that almost never occupy more than 10-15% front brain space? Another CPT thought that occurred to me was that I’ve never been good at frontin’ in any way. When I’m tired you can tell, when I’m excited you can tell. This isn’t a “woe is me” self-hate session either. Again, IJS. I don’t get the point of “toning down” and “having some mystery” when it’s no mystery that dudes be dippin! Houdinis are a real situation out here – f’real. For all the games and rules to dating I would sincerely prefer to focus my death sheath of gab on the multitude of places it actually benefits me outside of dating.

For all the mystery I don’t have according to the tumbleweed-ridden barren field that is my singledom, I certainly have had more than one too many free drinks, the clutch-move free club entries, presentations, refunded credits, and other things that have certainly made my gift of gab worth it. I may not say that on a first date – but it’s a big part of who I am and I can live without a shroud of “mystery” surrounding me. I’m sure I’ll be alright – and if I’m not you can find solace in the fact that one day my story could be one of your comedies come from the often silly, sometimes ridiculous, always entertaining titles and gushings from me.