It’s not you, it’s me

People who are so in touch that they just say “South By” instead of “South By SouthWest”.  Extra irritation points if they drop their g’s in the process.  As in, “Yeah dude, I have to meet with a customer in Denver tomorrow, but then I’m headin’ on down to South By”.

People who zip around on those wobbly little electric electric scooters in flipflops, shorts, and no helmet.  Extra irritation points if they’re texting.  Even though they’re the ones who will end up in the ER, not me.

The guy stopped in front of me at the red light who is continually fussing with an unseen something in the passenger seat.

Anyone over the age of three who brings a greasy sack of Big Macs and fries into an obliging Chinese restaurant.  Have some respect. For others, if not for yourself.

People who wear those MAGA caps.  In five years they are going to look so stupid.  Because they look stupid now.

Speaking of which, Sean Hannity.  Even though I never watch Sean Hannity.  I’m irritated by the concept of Sean Hannity. I’m irritated by the sound of the name “Sean Hannity”.  When I die and go to hell, I will end up on a comfy lounge chair by the pool with a tall drink in my hand on a beautiful afternoon.  And the devil will be right next to me saying “Sean Hannity Sean Hannity Sean Hannity” into my ear for all eternity.

Tourists who brag, “We like to go where the locals go.”  Well aren’t you special!

They guy who takes up two parking spaces marked “compact only” with the obscenely oversized pickup truck he bought in order to deal with his phallic insecurity issues.

People who make up lists and think they’re being clever.