Mormons who believe that driving over the speed limit will prevent them from achieving their eternal salvation. I’m certain that given an open road, God would totally haul ass.
The Earthlink customer service representative handling my complaint who has apparently gone AWOL. He won’t return my phone calls or my emails, even the one in which I mentioned that I’m backed by an army of people who really like to talk about poop.
Flossing.
Kwick Kleenup and Kountry Kitchens, those motherphucking phreaks.
Celebrities who aren’t keeping it real.
My dog’s new habit of ?manipulative moping? wherein the little turd hides behind furniture and cowers at the slightest indication that my mood is about to change, just so that he can get more whiskey and fudgecicles.
Too much snow.
Granny’s incessant, unending stories about Brother Smith, no wait, maybe that was Brother Jensen, no wait, maybe that was Brother Petersen, no wait, I can’t remember, but it happened in 1942, no wait, maybe it was 1943.