10 Things I Do

I’m reading through OM’s blog and he’s inspired me to write a top 10 list:
I like his opinions and his great sense of humour.
Ten Things I Do That Annoy Me and Everyone Else

I can’t stop myself, unless you want to pay for years of therapy sessions and free time to write and fish and commune with my wife.  Any takers?  Didn’t think so, so here goes:

10  In spite of mum’s warnings and teaching that people don’t like a swearing person, a swearing person demonstrates a lower intelligence, a lack of a good vocabulary, etc., I still fucking swear.  I love you, mum, and you’re right.  But unless I get another stress reliever, it’s going to happen.

9  I’m impatient.  Ramble on about your crap, sometimes I’ve got the time to listen and if I like you I might.  Kids, you’re exempt.  Wife…  most of the time you’re exempt.  Because “love is patient,” isn’t it.  My kids can talk and talk, I am treasuring it because in a few years they’ll be out of the house and I won’t get to hear their lovely voices, rambling on about their video games, their favorite TV shows, their school friends, blah blah blah blah blah just keep talking because I love every minute.  Your voices are music.  And Wife, you can tell me all about your day at the office and coming home and the things you did, and I will lose interest about the time you hit a hot button that pisses me off, but otherwise I will be hypnotized by your beautiful fantastic lips, your eyes, and your …everything else.  God, I love that woman.  Mmmm.  All the rest of you?  I’m aware that I’m impatient and I’m working on that.  Be patient with me, maybe it’ll mirror.  Or not.

8  I can be long winded, you can shut the hell up.  When writing, and generally when you’re talking at any time about anything, that is.  In person I’m your basic, gruff, quiet man of few words.  And those are often swear words, too.  I love your writing, keep on doing that, long as you want.  I might edit you or joke about you, but I like you.  Mostly.  But in conversation there comes a point at which I totally get what you’re saying and I don’t care any more.  To be safest, and to avoid being offended, just don’t talk to me, or call on the phone.  Just bring me coffee and food and don’t ask me to do shit, and all the world (my world, that is) will be happy.

7  I look at people.  I try to look away, I really do, but if you’re beautiful I’m hypnotized.  There are way too many beautiful people, since I learned to see beauty in fragility and brokenness and strengths that people don’t usually see in themselves, or don’t want to see.  So you’re beautiful, you’re handsome, you’re interesting, I’m watching.  Fortunately my wife wins, now, back when, and forevermore.  But you might think I’m staring if I look, a second too long.  I don’t have any ill intentions and I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.  I just think you’re beautiful and I might like your tattoos or your nose piercing or jewelry or your face.  And I am a fan of balance and symmetry, so you might just be perfect or something.  I’m learning not to “stare;” proxemics are a delicate thing and different in different countries.  I’ve learned that normal people get uncomfortable when other people are too close, but even if I can smell your Thai food you had for lunch, I’m fine with that.  A fraction of a second too long and I’m thought to be rude, so I try to look away before I think I’ve looked long enough.  When I was a kid, my mum never told me not to stare.  Maybe she didn’t notice I was doing it.  So I’m sorry.  I like people.  I like to watch you people.  You’re fascinating.  I’m looking away now.  But you’re hot.

6  I’m insufferable.  I want to be liked, and I can take that a bit far.  Not to changing my preferences, or necessarily accepting yours, but I do want to be liked.  Your habits are yours, my habits are mine, I might think your habits are gross, but I’m glad you don’t know what my habits are because mine are gross to me.  I just really want you to like me, even though if you don’t I’ve learned to tell you to fuck off.  I used to be more apologetic, but I’m a lot less.

5  I have habits.  I used to bite my fingernails all the time, now it’s only when I don’t have clippers and a nail file.  It’s my floor and if I drop a kernel of popcorn on it, I know if it’s clean and I’m going to eat that if it is.  I have other gross habits too, but I won’t get into that.  Just suffice it to say, thank God my wife hasn’t thrown me to the curb for anything.  What she does know is evidently tolerable, and what she might not know or maybe doesn’t care about, well I’ll just keep it that way.  I can spend hours accomplishing absolutely nothing, and think that’s fine.  If she’s going to kick me to the curb it’ll most likely be about that.  I hate to shave my beard, so I don’t care if you shave either.  It’s your hair, do what you want.  I could make a top ten list of either your annoying or gross habits, or mine but that’ll be another list for another blog if I ever decide to do that.

4  I talk to inanimate things and to animals.  Not that they’re necessarily listening or give a shit what I have to say, but if the lawn mower doesn’t start, it’s going to know I’m pissed about it.  And if the rodents in my yard don’t stop burrowing through my grass…!

3  I live in my own fantasy world and think reality, the forces of nature, and all who dwell therein should bend to my imperial will.  Yes, damn it, I’m old enough to remember prices from 10 or 15 years ago.  I think, because my income hasn’t gone up to accommodate price increases, if things cost more than I think I can afford, or should have to pay, they cost too damn much and I’m going to say something.  And you, the merchant, aren’t going to like it.  It’s OK, I’m still wearing the jeans I wore 15 years ago so they were worth the price back then.  And I think things today should last like that.  Got a good toaster, refrigerator, standalone freezer, washer/dryer longer ago than that, and they still work, and I’m satisfied.  Waffle irons should be a once-in-a-lifetime purchase.  And damn it, so should cars and they’re not.  I think people should drive safely and I get unhappy when I observe them breaking the law and not getting a fucking ticket too.  I tried driving like them once and a cop gave me a damn ticket.  When I explained myself, he wrote me the ticket anyway, even though I’ve seen in the past, and as recently as yesterday, someone or ones, doing the same damn thing.  In fact, yesterday I witnessed one, and the day before I witnessed 2.  If I had a day off, a video camera, and nothing better to do, I could make the police a fortune if they took my photography in as evidence.  On any given day, except Friday because the traffic is lighter.  I saw a bumper sticker I liked yesterday.  It said “Horn Broken.  Watch for middle finger!”  Except, people carry guns and they use them when they’re psychotic.  Don’t shoot, Mr. Wheeler, just understand you pissed me off and did something stupid and possibly dangerous.  Just like I said about wishing I could tell the boss off, yeah I wish I could tell that quota-seeking, judgemental ass hole that he needs to ticket EVERYONE ELSE if he’s going to ticket me for doing the same damn thing.  In his defense, if there is one, I was driving a crap car at the time and he could have also cited me for my tailpipe or my rear bumper and he didn’t.  But fuck that, he should be there writing tickets every day for what he said I did that was so bad; he’d make his monthly quota in a week.  If it was so bad, why isn’t it bad for the hundreds of other drivers doing it?  But the cops swear they don’t have quotas.  Bull shit.  They have budgets and quotas just like any other business, because my tax dollars aren’t enough.  Some days they are watching, when the budget is tight, others they look the other way -when the car is fancy, or when the budget is flush.

2  Sometimes I’m absolutely psychotic about the desire to control my little corner of the world.  I know I’m yelling, but it’s not at you.  I’m yelling at the universe, or whatever shit just happened, and I know there isn’t a damn thing anyone including me, can do about it.  It’s because the world isn’t under my control, in fact the opposite, has just proven itself yet again, and I’m just having a 3 year old temper tantrum about it.  Just. Walk. Away.  Or bring me a winning lottery ticket, Or bring cash, as tribute to my lack of greatness, until I can afford to have someone fix whatever broke. Or better still, bring me a winning lottery ticket with my name written on the back.  I used to love the song “If I Had A Million Dollars,” except I was well aware it’s not enough.  What I’ll need is, on the lower end, $100K per year for the rest of my life, or, if you really want to make me happy, $100M, after taxes, right now.  Then I’d feel like I had an adequate measure of control.  Maybe.

Speaking of the song, “they” now have pre-wrapped bacon, making that little dialogue out of date and I think that’s a good thing.  Bacon is awesome.

1  I’m a food snob, and I’m hungry.  And thirsty.  Don’t get me wrong, I’ll eat that, but if I make it, I’m going to remember what you did and fix it better.  I like what I like- good wine, good coffee, good beer, good steak.  Good food and drink.  And I know the difference, and I want good, at a price I can afford.  There are still places out there making reasonable food at reasonable prices, I go there or fix it myself or go without.  If I go without, I’m not happy.  This is the United Fucking States of America.  No one should go without.  If someone goes without, someone else isn’t paying enough money for a wage, or someone isn’t working.  Wait.  if someone isn’t working they probably aren’t going without, because welfare and food stamps have them covered better than me.  If you’re on welfare and you honestly need it, I’m perfectly fine with you getting what you need.  But if you’re on welfare because you’re too damn lazy to get a job, get off, go get one, and start paying taxes to support me.  I’m not getting any younger and I’m going to need someone to pay my way when I’m old, since I paid to support you when you were younger.  Get a fucking job, even if it’s minimum wage.  Work hard and ask for promotions.  If you don’t get one, get a different job that pays more.  It’s not easy, it sucks.  But you’re young and I’m old.  I work a crap job that I hate, so you can damn well do the same until something better comes along.  If you need food and I have it, ask me and I’ll give it to you.  I’ll even cook it for you, and it’ll be damned good.  But if I made it for you and you don’t like it, especially if you asked me to make it, don’t be upset when I’m upset.

0  I think lists of 10 things are frequently hilarious, and they’re more funny when there are 11 things on them.

-1  I’ll get on my blog and write almost every day for a while and then go away for a month or two and come back.  I’m just not disciplined for steady maintenance.  I might take a break.  Or not.  You’ll know when you don’t see me.  Maybe I’ll write.  Maybe I’ll fish.  Maybe I’ll do a novel.

-2  I read books and I think people should read.  I don’t trust or have respect for people who don’t read.

-3  I’ll occasionally rant.  A little.

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4 thoughts on “10 Things I Do

  1. -5 I am second in a trend of listing that continues through the comments. Whoever comments next keep it alive.
    I’m a blogger who will reblog other great works when lazy and write a short praise that will send people to the blog. I do this because it’s social, fun, and easy. 😉

    Liked by 2 people

  2. 6. I do not participate in blogging challenges or nominations.

    7. I listen to a film and watch music videos, write, cook or read. Usually whole in a different room. I rarely just sit and watch a film unless I’m trapped in a dark room full of strangers.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. well, I occasionally do a challenge, but not always right away. Takes me some time. Speaking of which there’s a blogger I need to recheck to do something I said I would do a while ago… Love you’re checking my old blogs ,reminding me of my older stuff. Holy crap I’m almost a year into this.

      Liked by 1 person

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