Pet Peeves: A Love/Hate Story

When I was about seven years old I had a hamster, named Squeaky. I played with that little guy all the time. Changed his cedar, cleaned his cage, fed him, gave him water, and watched him run around the house in his little plastic ball. One afternoon he seemed sluggish and the next morning he was dead. We buried him in a cardboard box beneath a tree in the backyard. I’ve had a number of animals since then.

The most special among them was a dog, Australian Shepard mix, named Chewie; yes, short for Chewbacca. He was a great dog, strong willed as he may have been in his younger years. One time, when I let him out to go to the bathroom , he took off and didn’t come back until the next day. When I pulled into the driveway after work, I saw him but didn’t recognize him. He was covered in mud. His fur was matted and he was limping. I got him inside and could tell that he’d been in a terrible fight. He and I laid in the kitchen floor while I fed him treats, though he would barely eat and didn’t drink at all. The next day I took him to the vet who said it looked as though he’d been attacked by at least three other dogs. Chewie and I formed a bond that night and through the course of his recovery. He was with us for a few more years, maybe seven, before lymphatic sarcoma took him from us. He became a ghost of his former self. His pain was evident in his eyes and movements, much the same as you might see in a hospice patient. A very kind doctor at Scenic Hills Veterinary Hospital helped us ease him on to his final sleep. She let me lay there in the floor with him at the clinic and cry, much the same as I had years before.

Our current pet, a boxer and lab mix, named Penny is nearly as special as Chewie. She’s a good girl and she will defend my family with all of her 80 plus pounds. She loves to play with our son and allows him to climb on her like a jungle gym. I love animals. I’ve cared for all of them that have come into my life. We call them pets, but for people like me, they’re a lot more than that. They’re family.

In adulthood I’ve become, as you may know, a somewhat eccentric individual. I hold conservative, southern values. At the same time I’ve developed a sarcastic, ironic, twisted, sometimes perverted, and dark sense of humor. Years of observing and being at the receiving end of ridicule taught me to find the good in a situation. That search for good in the bad has evolved into the personality traits that make me who I am. Sometimes the good was hard to find, so I made the bad into something that, in my mind, didn’t seem quite so terrible.

I’m a storyteller and a rambler. Not in the Allman Brothers sense; rather, in that I sometimes go on and on, much like right now. The reason for mentioning my former, four-legged companions is to draw a distinction between the kind of care that I’ve given them, and the attention that I’ve given to my pets. Pet peeves, that is.

The term pet peeve, as I understand and interpret it, refers to things that are annoyances. The pet portion comes from our nurturing of these things. Every observance of the peeve is like a treat, a scratch behind the ear, or a playful pat on the belly of a loved pet. We all have them. Even people who don’t like pets have pet peeves. Not everyone refers to them as such. Peter Griffin, from TV’s “Family Guy” coined the phrase “You know what grinds my gears?” referring to his pet peeves in a segment on Quahog’s news. Fictitious, yes, but also relevant and entertaining. Not sure what that has to do with anything.

I thought it may be entertaining for you to share in some of my peeves. Who knows, you may share some of them with me. Conversely, you may think I’m just a crotchety, middle aged bastard with nothing better to do than bitch about other people. You’re probably right. I should just take my Xanax and move on, but I’m going to continue with or without your approval. Without further ado, and in no particular order, here we go.

I hate it when people stop at an intersection with several car lengths between themselves and the car ahead of them. You’re keeping others from getting into the turning lanes, you so and sos. Pull up.

I hate walking at someone else’s pace. This happens in crowds, in stores, and anywhere that it’s not easy to get around folks. Step it up or step aside.

I hate it when people talk on their cellphones while driving. These folks are easy to spot. They’re the ones driving erratically with their head cocked to one side because their elbows are sore from holding the phone so long. Buy a bluetooth or wait until you get to a stopping point.

I hate people who wear their bluetooth earpieces out in public. Are you expecting an important business call? Even if you are, will you be conducting million dollar deals in line at the grocery store?

I hate people who talk on the phone while in line…  anywhere . Hang the fu-phone up and order your lunch, you pompous ass.

I hate it when people add letters to words. No, we’re not going to Virginiar.

I hate misplaced apostrophes. This one is everywhere and it drives me up and then back down the wall. I don’t want to come to your store for any special that you have on Wednesday’s . On Wednesday’s what? It is either already spoken for and owned by Wednesday or it’s been resting on Wednesday’s junk. I can’t tell but I know I’m not interested.

I hate vanity license plates (or license plate frames, for that matter) that tout the vehicle’s brand. I can see you’re driving a BMW, I don’t need it on all of the stock badging AND on your license plate that reads BEAMER .  Really, dolt, that’s a BMW? I couldn’t tell from all of the German badgery. By the way, it’s Bimmer. If you can’t get that license plate, then you’re the number two asshat, which is even worse.

I hate when songwriters can’t find the right words, so they just use the ones they’ve already used. I’m talking to you, Kid Rock.

I hate the practice of “sampling” music. A lot of “artists” have made millions by combining their words with someone else’s music. Sean Puffy P-Diddy Combs is among the worst for this. I can’t even listen to Kashmir anymore. You ruined Led Zeppelin. Thanks a bunch. You write some pretty good words, sometimes… write your own music.

I hate when parents curse around their children. I was probably 15 before I ever heard my parents say one curse word. I’m 35 years old, and to this day, it’s a rarity for me to say anything off color around my mother. Even then, there’s cause for the coarseness of my language.

I hate inconsistencies in moves. C3-PO isn’t supposed to tell jokes and Anakin Skywalker isn’t supposed to be a giddy little boy. Yippee! should not be in his vocabulary. The inconsistency list could go on and on, so I’ll just leave  it with the two from the Star Wars prequels.

I hate charley horses.

I hate micromanaging. I know I’ve got a job to do, and so does everyone else. When I fail to come through with something, that’s when you can hover over me. Until then, let me do what I do.

I hate when people bring texting abbreviations into written conversation. I dnt wnt 2 hv 2 figure out wht ur tlkng abt. I want to read your well thought words, and feel as though I’m involved in an adult conversation. These abbreviations have a place. That place is only where characters are at a premium; Twitter, facebook and text messaging.

I hate kid leashes.

I hate crowds.  I have anxiety issues. As a result, I missed out on my son meeting, hugging, and kissing Mickey and Minnie because I couldn’t handle the shoulder to shoulder inside Mickey’s house at Disney World. Next time I go, Xanax will go with me.

I hate anxiety issues and the feeling of helplessness that accompanies them.

I hate people who use electronic scooters, simply because they’re too overweight to comfortably move. They’re all over the place. Go to Wal-Mart, one of them will run you down for a Snickers bar.

I hate when I hold the door for someone at a store and they just walk right on in without even a nod of thank you. I’m not your ding-dang doorman. I’m being polite, you can return the favor. People like you are the reason America is losing its reputation as the best country in the world.

Wow, these are just the ones that came to me in the half hour I spent composing this post. Seems like a lot of hate for someone with so much love. As a caveat, all of the “I hate people…” statements refer to the action, not the actual person.  I hate it when people put things into their own context and distort the intended meaning.

If you like this post, hate this post, agree, or disagree, let me know in the comments section below. Hook up with me on Twitter or facebook for more pointless rambling. Thanks for reading.