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We all have our pet peeves. There are those little things in life that really push our buttons, and they often tend to be small or insignificant to anything and everything. Some of these pet peeves we have actually serve no purpose in our lives other than to make us angry. Some of them tend to have no impact on how we live our daily lives, while other have a constant influence on the way we do things.

Over the last two weeks, I have been narrowing down my list of pet peeves to my top five. It took me two weeks because I realized that while I was trying to think of what little things pissed me off, I had WAY more than I thought. This literally became a research project of my mind, almost like a brain scan for all those little things that drive me insane.


Here are my findings in a top five list:

5) Sinus Headaches – I have been getting sinus headaches a lot. I don't just mean in the last month, but I mean since I was 16. The first time I had a sinus headache, I thought I was having an aneurism. To have that kind of pain in the front of my head… clearly I was dying.

Come to find out later that it was nothing more than compacted snot in my face that was causing me such pain and displeasure.

Not only did I find this gross, but it made me angry. I used to think the worst part about snot was when you'd have a cold and it would decide to only plug up one nostril at a time, constantly switching back and forth from nostril to nostril throughout the day. Or perhaps the worst part was when you were an eight year old kid walking down busy Harlem road in Cheektowaga, New York and you sneezed super hard only to later find out you shot an astonishing amount of booger onto the bare skin of your leg.

But while those were annoying, I've realized that having snot pack itself up in your head is far worse because it's more than an annoyance. It a pain. A bad fucking pain.

Thanks to the roller coaster weather patterns and ridiculous amounts of pollen which tend to grace the wonderful air of Charlotte, North Carolina, I have been getting two or three sinus headaches a week.

I'm seriously about ready to stab myself in the face in hopes that the pressure will be released through one of my opened puncture wounds.

At least right now I'm feeling good, but tomorrow is a new day and possibly a different story. I'm actually almost convinced that sinus headaches are God's way of punishing me for doing something wicked that I shouldn't have done. If I'm getting them two or three times a week… I really should consider changing my ways a little bit.


4) The Baywatch Theme Song – This song pisses me off for the sole fact that it becomes embedded in my head for about three days after I hear it. In fact, it becomes embedded in my head when I haven't heard it.

The truth of it is that it's already embedded in my head, it just depends on when it chooses to rear its ugly head that I notice.

This has been happening since my first year of college. I fell asleep one night with the TV on (which I do every night anyways), but there was a Baywatch marathon on TV that night. As I slept, the folds and crevices in my brain recorded and stored this theme song as it played for what I believe to be at least eight goddamn times throughout the night, and then stored them deep inside the core of my brain to torture me for years to come.

For no reason whatsoever, I now find myself every once in a while singing this theme song without even realizing it. It's like my brain is the oven, the Baywatch theme song is the batch of brownies, and one day those baked goodies are done and I take them out to cool off.

It's when I realize that there I am, yet again singing the Baywatch theme song to myself that I lose a little self respect. It really sucks to know that Pamela Anderson, The Hoff, and that crack whore Yasmine Bleeth have had that big of an impact on my life.


3) Comment Beggars (this really only applies to MySpace)– This one needs to stop. While I'm actually believing myself to be half retarded for even letting this get on my nerves, I cannot stand it when someone posts 14 bulletins in about five hours on MySpace telling people to go comment on their new pictures.

The way I see it, one bulletin will suffice. Simply make a post that informs people of your new pictures, and leave it at that. If for some reason you have hardly gotten any comments within that first day, then go ahead and leave another bulletin. After that, it's simply annoying.

If people don't comment after the first time you post a bulletin, there's the chance that they missed it, but if they haven't commented after the second bulletin, that means your pictures were one of three things: Not good enough to comment on, look exactly like all of your other damn pictures, or you've simply annoyed that person so much by posting repeated bulletins that they've simply boycotted you and refuse to leave comments.

If you want more comments, stop posting so many goddamn bulletins begging for it and take more interesting pictures so you don't have to bug the sh*t out everyone.


2) My Memory – This one had me super pissed today. I don't think it could have happened at a worse, yet better time.

As I stated earlier, I have been narrowing down my list in my head for the last two weeks. I had my list compiled and ready to go in my head and I sat down to type this blog.

As I sat here and numbered my top five list. I could only remember four of the things that annoyed me. I had forgotten what the hell one of them was.

I distinctly remembered what order they all went in, but number two was missing. It was after much deep thought, swearing, and the phrase, "Goddamnit I hate my f**king memory!" that it finally dawned on me what number two was on the list. I was actually going to use a completely different example to place emphasis on my bad memory… but this example was just too fitting. And too ironic.


1) Guys with Long Fingernails – This one is the icing on the cake. This is the sort of thing that has the power to make me literally leave a room out of anger because of how much it bothers me. I won't be surprised if one day I'm driven to violence over this issue.

Men, listen to me and listen to me carefully. The reason it is socially acceptably for women to have long fingernails is because it's long been attributed as being feminine. Even though I personally enjoy short fingernails on women, I find it acceptable when they have long nails because it's a F**KING FEMENINE QUALITY.

But for males… there is no excuse. I don't care if you play guitar or do cocaine, you need to cut that shit. It's disgusting and it looks lazy when you don't cut your fingernails, and I'm sure that most women will agree with me when they say that on a scale of 1-10 attractiveness, this ranks at a "I can't even rate this because it's making me sick to my stomach."

Not only do I think it looks gross, but when I see long fingernails on a guy my immediate first thought is "what does he do with fingernails that long?"

I believe that about 90% of guys with long fingernails use it for "picking at stuff" purposes. I don't care to elaborate on what those things are, but you can use your imagination to finger it out. OH GOD! I mean figure it out! FIGURE IT OUT!

And in keeping with the tradition of short fingernails, I should also make a mention of toenails. I actually tend to hate feet as a whole, but didn't feel the need to mention that on my top five list because usually they are covered with shoes where as hands I have to see on a constant basis. However, if you have long fingernails and your toenails are anywhere near as bad… just go move back into your mother's basement please. If you're not already there.

It literally takes all but two minutes and twice a week to keep those cuticles in check. So please for the love of God… do something about it and stop being lazy and long finger nailed. I swear to God hat if this trend doesn't ease up soon, I'm going to start driving around with syringes and I'm going to inject every one of these dudes with pure estrogen.

Now I think some of you out there should share some of your pet peeves. What annoys you the most?

We all have a certain item in our home or in our possession that we use on a regular basis. With this item comes a routine. Is it the use of this device that is the routine of which I'm referring to? Not quite, although that most certainly is a methodical part which comes with said device, but that's not the custom I speak of. Rather the routine that we find ourselves stuck in is losing that item repeatedly, then pulling out all of our hair follicles in the process of trying to find it.

For some people, it's their car keys. For others it might be their wallet. Perhaps even a tube of lipstick for the ladies or a condom for the cocky and arrogant gentlemen that won't be used because they'll be shut down later that night by the gorgeous lady at the bar while she snickers and points at him with her girlfriends as they make wisecracks in reference to the size of his penis. No, that has not and will not ever happen to me, I'm not retarded like that. However, I do love seeing it happen to stupid assholes who think their shit doesn't stink. Nothings funnier than seeing a guy with frosted tips walking away with that defeated look on his face.

Anyways, back on track here, it's inevitable that we all have that one godforsaken item which we love to use but hate to lose.

And we do it on a constant basis.

For me, it's the simplest of items. It's an item which is found in the kitchen, used to crack the seal between daylight and utter darkness. An item used to break that solid, metallic barrier which keeps the contents inside fresh even throughout a nuclear war. That item is my goddamn can opener.

On an almost daily basis, I resort to using my can opener. It's become a necessary part of my personal life.

Recently I've acquired this obsession with eating tuna fish because it's good for you and it packs a lot of protein. But the problem with tuna is that, unlike the larger canned foods, there are no pop-tops available. And besides, even if there was, I wouldn't buy them if I had the choice because I feel it takes all the fun out of opening that can like you're taking its virginity.

I personally enjoy knowing that with every crank of that knobby that I am one turn closer to releasing the contents from their cold, cramped prison and giving them the opportunity to enter my warm, loving belly.

In order for that to ever happen, I need to open the can. In order to open the can, I need to use my can opener. Sounds like the simplest of tasks, but in actuality I find myself on the verge of having a daily conniption as I consistently come to find my can opener missing (oxymoron?).

Until recently, I thought the thing I would tend to lose the most often was my roommate, Dave. There have been times in the past where I wouldn't see him for two or three days, thinking he was just working a lot. Come to find out later, he actually ended up being in Ohio or Florida or some other fucking state.

But alas, this elusive can opener has far surpassed any of the actions of my roommate forgetting to inform me that he's leaving town. At least Dave is human (I think) and has two legs and can walk on his own free will. That explains how he could go missing (and how he usually does).

But a can opener? It's an inanimate object for Christ's sake. The only place it can end up is where it was last set down. So ultimately, I can't become angry with the can opener. I can only become angry with myself. And my roommate since he uses it too.

What amazes me the most is the many locations in which this item has turned up. These places include, but are not limited to (and these get weirder as they go on): in or under a pot on the stove top, on the counter top buried under junk mail, bottom of the dishwasher, wrong drawer, under the dining room table, under the couch in the living room, on top of the TV, on top of the DVD rack, on top of one of my roommates snake containers, under the ping pong table, on my roommates bed, on my bed, on my computer desk, laying on the floor in the hallway near the washer, in the refrigerator, in one of my roommates shoes (I think it fell off the counter), in my roommates car, and the most disturbing of them all… in my roommates bathroom (which I still need to ask him about).

While I find myself shaking my head in disbelief at half the places this device has ended up, at least I can accept that I'm not entirely insane when I do finally find it. However, there have been those times where the can opener was literally right in front of my face and yet I still proceeded to tear the house to shreds looking for it.

Two days ago I opened the drawer which should have held the can opener, but didn't see it. I proceeded to spend the following half an hour turning all the furniture upside down in an effort to find this fucking tin-cutting tool. Then, on a last ditch effort of hopelessness, I went back to the drawer where the search started.

I had already accepted defeat at this point but decided to look in the drawer anyways. It was sitting right there. I somehow managed to look right over it, and when it dawned on me that I had just wasted a half an hour of my life looking for something that was never lost in the first place… well I died a little inside. But at least I had my tuna.

Then there's also those times where I can't find the can opener, search the house from head to toe trying to find it, then when I finally do locate it I realize that I never needed it in the first place.

Let's use tonight for example.

I opened the drawer where the can opener is supposed to be, but did not see it. I moved on to rip apart the house yet again and eventually found it under a pile of Dave's crap on the coffee table. As I made my way back to kitchen feeling victorious with the can opener in my hand, I proceeded to look down at the three potatoes I had sitting on the cutting board on the counter. That's when I realized that I didn't need the can opener… I needed the goddamn potato peeler. What the hell was I going to do, open the potato?

The case in point is that it doesn't seem to matter what I do or how well organized I get this apartment. I feel that for the rest of my eternity, can openers are going to forever be that one item which I lose on a constant basis. They will most likely be the item I obsess over, which ultimately will cause me to have an aneurism.

Can openers may literally become the goddamn death of me.

For sometime now, I have found myself on the declining end when it comes to believing in God. While I consider myself as being a deist (to sum it up, I don't believe in religion, but still believe a higher being created the universe, then abandoned it to let us live our lives under free will), I have been pushing further and further towards atheism altogether.

Finally, there's been an element of redemption.

My faith in God has been given an energy-filled boost as of yesterday afternoon all because of one very important topic in the current headlines:



While I'm still inclined to believe that all religion is total horseshit (considering they all contradict one another), the decision by the judge in this case to sentence this frivolous, attention-seeking whore otherwise known as Paris Hilton to 45 days in jail rather than the usual butt-fucking her with another meaningless fine (which I'm pretty sure she enjoys) can only mean one thing: this was an act of God.

When it comes to my beliefs with God, I think he/she created the universe a long ass time ago, then he set up a lawn chair on the sun where he currently resides, absorbing all those awesome UV rays while catching an golden tan (he's God, he's impervious to skin cancer) while letting us live our lives without interference.

That is until yesterday. I think he finally snapped. Something tells me that he decided enough was enough, and after millions of years of chillin' on the Sun (oxymoron), his breaking point was reached and it was this one spoiled little bitch that caused him to boil over. Thank God for that, literally. It's about time someone actually punished this little drain on society.

Now, with celebrities who break the law, I have a huge problem with the way the legal system bends the rules for them, as if they're part of a species that ranks higher than human. They always seem to walk with nothing more than a fine in regards to traffic violations. Wow, way to teach them judicial system! Because fining someone who's worth millions of dollars only a few hundred bucks and making them take a class is really going to teach them a lesson. That'd be like pulling me over for speeding and fining me a quarter. You really think I'm ever going to give a shit?

I honestly think they should take into account what the person does for a living when determining what their punishment should be when it comes to crimes like the crap Paris Hilton has pulled. If someone makes a ton of money (or in the twats case, just happens to have a lot of her daddy's money), obviously a fine isn't going to cut it. They aren't gonna give a damn.

That's when you need to either restrict or take away something which will REALLY have an affect on them: their freedom.

Whether it be jail time or a shit-load of community service, the system needs to come down hard on them to remind them that they aren't above the rest of the human race. There's a reason we have laws, and we should ALL be subject to them.

Just because one certain person played an amazing and well acted role in "House of Wax" (please note sarcasm) as well as a heartwarming performance in her porn video "A Night in Paris," that doesn't suddenly exempt that person from the law.

This world is full of pompous assholes, and when these people decide to cross the boundaries of legality and commit any kind of crime, whether it be speeding or MURDER (yeah O.J. I'm talking to you, you piece of shit), that's when it becomes necessary to come down on them hard. It's one of those opportunities to put them in their damn place and remind them that no matter whom they are or how much money they make, they need to take that cocky, ignorant, "I can do whatever I want" attitude and shove it right up their conceited asses because if they don't, their cellmate Bubba or Bubbette will do it for them.

Maybe this is a turning point… the beginning of a new trend. I can only hope.