I Have Fallen and I Can’t Get Up

I am not sure what the planets are doing but Uranus must be in retrograde and Saturn is probably on her period.  The last two weeks I have been plagued with bad luck and like they say - bad things always happen in threes.  Well, if that is indeed the case then I should be happy right?  Three bad things have already happened to me, and if that is not enough I possibly will be getting some more bad news in the mail within the next week or so.  It’s always good to have a backup, because that’s how I roll.  So it goes without saying that I am rather depressed at the moment.  You know, in the glass is half empty kind of way.  But before I cause your serotonin and dopamine levels to plummet into the abyss of depression as well, let me tell you what has happened.  After all, if we can’t laugh at the misfortune of others what sort of bitches are we anyway?

It all started two weeks ago in a certain shopping centre’s parking lot which I now call the Parking Lot of Doom.  At the best of times I avoid going there because their parking is a nightmare and their parking spaces are smaller than what they should be. I have measured them! Literally!  I have also scratched my car on their pavement once before and since then I have had a mental block about that place.  So when I decided to stop there after work I was very cautious but when I finally found a parking spot right in front of the shop I wanted to go to, I couldn’t be believe my luck.  I am lazy as shit like that, I hate walking and small things like that makes me happy.  However it wasn’t my lucky day and what was already a bad day was about to get even worse.

As I was turning into the already small parking space which was made even smaller by another asshole with a 4x4 who parked like an idiot I had a boo boo : as I was pulling in trying to squeeze my car into the space I accidentally scratched the car next to me.  The sound of two cars scraping against each other is the most horrible sound one can ever hear.  But seeing as it happened and I was responsible I got out of my car to inspect the damage.

Luckily the damage wasn’t that bad and the other car also just had a few scratches.  As I was waiting for the other car’s driver to return so that we can exchange insurance details my little accident started drawing a swarm of people.  One would have sworn I drove over someone’s puppy as the people came to inspect the damage, whisper among themselves and judge my parking skills.  When the lady eventually returned we had a cordial exchange and told each other how we wished we could have met under better circumstance and went our separate ways.

I have not been back to that shopping centre and their parking lot of doom since.  My car will go in to have the scratches fixed next week and in the mean time I am pretending that it never happened.  Bad luck number two is Facebook related.  I think social media sometimes brings out the worst in people.  I have seen firsthand how people will do and say things on social media that they would never dare do or say in real life.  Since I have been on Facebook I have made some enemies, from homophobic freaks, religious assholes to even some gay people.  Normally it doesn’t really bother me much and I mostly ignore them.  Mostly.  But every so often one of these idiots will do something that annoys the shit out of me and exactly this happened last week.

My Facebook Fan page for my blog has grown steadily and presently it has just over 10 000 likes.  But like I mentioned there are quite a few people who hates me and hates my blog.  Seeing as they cannot destroy my blog and/or kill me they go for option number two – maliciously reporting me to Facebook.  Last week some asshole reported a photo I posted on my Fan Page of a naked man which you could only see from the waist up as offensive.  Then some pimpled face Facebook employee who probably is a Mormon then also felt deeply offended by the fine specimen of the male species and then imposed a 30 day block on my profile.

So for the next 30 days I can only access Facebook but I am not allowed to post.   My Facebook Pages are still being updated, albeit not by me.  I was once also confused by Facebook for being a pornographer because I posted I picture of nuns painting a naked man of which you could only see his ass.  But for that I only received a warning.  This time I am in Facebook jail for a month.  Which led me to ask, is my Facebook Page making you horny?  You don't have to answer me right now, but I invite you to think about.

The third stroke of bad luck happened to me on Monday.  I was sitting in front of my computer working and then decided to get up.  It felt like my foot was asleep, as it often happens because I sit with my legs crossed most of the time.  As I got up I had the strangest sensation in my left leg.  It felt like it wasn’t there and it wasn’t just my foot that was sleeping it was my whole fucking leg.

Being up and desperately trying to steady myself it felt like I was going to bend my leg the wrong way.  You know so that it looks like a dinosaur's hind legs.  Not only would it be painful if I did do that it would have looked creepy as fuck as well. I had no control over my leg and after struggling to stay upright I then fell to the ground like a chopped down tree twisting my ankle and my foot into a very unnatural position.  As I was going down it felt like everything was happening in slow motion and as the ground came closer and closer I was waiting for the sound of something snapping, tearing or popping.

Lying on the ground and not being able to get up our maid came storming towards me.  She had a horrified look on her face and without saying a word she stated pulling on my toes.  Confused, embarrased and in pain I remember wondering what sort of fucked up first aid was she taught.  I mean honestly I possibly broke my ankle and/or foot and she is pulling on my toes.  What. The. Fuck.

After several minutes on the floor I finally regained sensation in my leg and was able to get up.  But as the sensation came back to my leg so did the pain.  The pain level went from a 4 out of 10 to about a 9! That evening my foot and ankle were throbbing and we had no real pain medication in the house.  So I suffered through the night and I hardly slept a wink.  At one point at around 2:30am I wondered how much worse this would have turned out if I had been 70 and fell down the way I did.  I probably would have broken my hip and the thought of this made me really scared of growing old.  For the first time I knew how it felt to have fallen and not being able to get up.  Old people, I respect you so much more now, I really do.

The next day I got some medication from the pharmacy and an ankle guard and I am walking with a limp.  If my ankle and foot do not get significantly better in next couple of days then I will have to go for x-rays at the hospital.  And you all know how a love hospitals.  Three bad things have happened and let’s hope my bad luck is now over.  I am still expecting a speeding fine in the mail but hopefully it never arrives.  In the mean time I am keeping a super low profile, hiding under my blanket of self-pity and resisting overdosing on chocolate.  I am also making sure that my Feng Shui is all balanced.  I mean 3000 years of Chinese art and science should prevent me from experiencing any further bad luck, wouldn’t it?

Till next time.

The Gay Panic Defense

Recently I read an article about the “Gay Panic” defense.  It is a defense tactic offenders of anti-gay violence use to try and circumvent getting their asses thrown in jail.  In the “Gay Panic” defense the defended claim to have been the object of homosexual romantic or sexual advances and found these advances so offensive and frightening that it brought on a psychotic state characterized by extreme and unusual violence.  In other words they committed a hate crime in self-defense because they feared being butt fucked by a penis or scissor’ed by a vagina.  It’s a pathetic pretext, if you ask me, and does nothing but distracts from and trivializes the real issue of “Gay Panic” affecting the homosexual community which is far more prevalent and traumatic than what you are led to believe.

“Gay Panic” in the homosexual community is not something we talk about.  To be honest, it is one of those taboos like porn before genital grooming became popular and the darkrooms at certain gay bars.  We all know it exists, we have all seen one, experiences one and none of us are willing to publically admit it.

But if you have ever seen a gay man trying to fit into a pair pants a size too small, realize the new designer couch he just bought is in fact too large for the lounge, been the tragic victim of a dye job gone wrong, or saw the coach of a lesbian softball team watching her them loose, you will know exactly what “Gay Panic” is and what it looks like.  It isn’t pretty.  It isn’t fun and it isn’t an excuse to commit a crime.  Or is it?

Just the other day I suffered from gay panic.  I was driving home from work and decided to stop at the shop to buy some essential items for that evening’s dinner.  As I drove into the parking area I noticed a guy parking in one of the disabled parking spots.  I thought nothing of it, until the man climbed out of his car that is.  The man wasn’t disabled.  He didn’t even have as much as a limp and it pissed me off.

So I did what any self-respecting homosexual would do.  I walked up to him and shouted “Praise Jesus!  Praise the LORD! It’s a miracle!” To which he responded by telling me to go and fuck myself.  Ok, so I didn’t suffer so much from gay panic as I did from gay anger but in circumstances like these they are closely related.  I wanted to key the asshole’s car but I didn’t.  But if I had and got caught I would have used the Gay Panic Defense.

Gay panic can strike at any time and at any place.  It’s especially bad when I take public transport and flying in economy class.  When I am on a plane I like to be left alone and that is why I always insist on either getting the window seat or the window seat.  By doing so I can turn away from the person sitting next to me and pretend they are not there.  If I remembered to charge my iPod it further helps me to exude that antisocial “if you touch me or talk to me you will die” vibe.  But unfortunately there are some people who are immune to this and in one out of every three flights I take, they end up sitting next to me.

A couple of weeks ago on my flight to Cape Town one such immune person ended up on my flight.  She was a recently widowed retired high school teacher, misses her kids who now live in the United States and to fight loneliness she travels and makes friends on planes and at airports.  She had an uncanny fondness for orthopedic shoes, a dog that is a diabetic, is allergic to onions and is a Sagittarius.

When she boarded the flight she was like a little loud tornado which headed straight for me.  I remember praying that she would not to occupy seat 19B.  As she got closer and louder I could feel the gay panic swell up inside of me.  To my horror she was to sit iseat 19B, I checked her boarding pass.  Her ass had not even touched the seat yet before she started asking me questions.

“Sweet heart, can you please ring my phone?  I think I lost it” she asked while rummaging through her handbag which could carry two dead backstreet boys and a medium sized dog through customs without any problem.  “It’s not ringing, it goes to voicemail” I mumbled.  “Oh sweat child, you can call me M’am.  I must have left it at the check-in counter” she said in her annoying old school teacher authoritative voice.  Realizing that there was a real possibility that she might never see her phone again (it was Johannesburg after all) she made a beeline for the cabin crew, consequently delaying our flight with 15 minutes.

As it turns out she did leave her phone at check-in and she spend the remainder of the flight talking to me only pausing briefly to breath.  I wanted to die!  Had I lost it and strangled her with her lilac scarf and got arrested, I would have used the Gay Panic Defense and also blamed the altitude and poorly controlled cabin pressure.  However, I did kill her (a couple of times) in my head and worked out a new ingenious method for in-flight murder involving a seatbelt, the food tray and two barth bags.

 

Sometimes episodes of gay panic can also be predicted.  You see this coming Saturday there is a high probability that I will experience a gay panic of sorts.  You see it is my godson’s baptism and it will be happing in a Catholic Church.  We all know how much I adore the Catholic Church and how much the Vatican loves me.  Holy Sea, Vatican City still pops by my blog every now-and-again and I am surprised that they have not issued an arrest warrant for me yet or at the very least banned me from all their premises.

With the countdown to Saturday, I suspect that I will either be truck by lightening, be kidnapped and tortured by the Corpo della Gendarmeria dello Stato della Citta del Vaticano or worse.  But hey, the day is not about me and even Pope Benedict XVI will concede that making a scene would be in bad taste and not very Christian like.  So in nomine Patris, et filii, et spiritus sancti I shall keep my mouth shut, head down and hide my gay panic as best I can.  All the while keeping an eye out for and staying clear off cars with tinted windows and men in dark blue uniforms.

Yes people, gay panic is a real problem.  We all suffer from it from time-to-time for various reasons.  It can strike without warning on a plane in cattle class, in a parking area at your local mall, in your living room, at your hairdresser’s, next to the sport field and even in Church.  Currently there is no cure for gay panic and it has not been tested in any court of law as a viable defense, but is does exist.  Ask your doctor about Gay Panic today, even though it cannot be cured I am sure it can be treated.

Till next time.

@PigSpotter Hero or Villian?

There’s nothing worse than getting a speeding fine and I have received my fair share. Traffic Cops seemed to have passed prostitution as the oldest profession in the world because it says in Genesis 3:4 "... and I saw an evil spirit standing behind a bush..." So imagine my relief when a saviour came my way via the Intrawebs. A saviour on Twitter that goes by the name of @PigSpotter (Cliff). In the last few weeks @PigSpotter have caused quite a stir in South Africa and now the police is trying to hunt him down. Here’s a guy that warns motorist of speed traps, corrupt police officials and roadblocks and now they want him arrested. This led me to wonder, should @PigSpotter be praised as a hero or condemned as villain.

I have been following this diligent tweeter for some time now and he has saved me from many potential money draining fines. It’s not like I am a speedster (well not anymore) but I do admit that there are times that I view speed limits as a recommendation only and not as mandatory. You know what I am talking about, those days that you are late for work, about to miss your flight or curious about just how fast your rental car can really go. But after roughly 14 fines in the last 6 years, many of which I couldn’t talk my way out off, I have made a concerted effort to try and limit my speeding only to special circumstance. Trying to explain to a traffic cop that you were speeding because you were running late for your hair appointment with them then looking at you as if you come from Uranus, just didn’t seem worth the effort anymore.

So when I discovered @PigSpotter I found some piece of mind. You see now before I drive I check Twitter to see where potential evil spirits will be hiding that day and what traffic is like on my route. I don’t do this because I plan to speed, I don’t obsessively check my speedometer while I’m driving and every so often I do go over the speed limit accidentally; after all none of us plan to break the speed limit on purpose and without reason. So when the bomb dropped on a popular radio station and my secret speed trap informant was exposed, I was shocked!

You see @PigSpotter referred to traffic cops as pigs, pork chops, bacon rashes, amongst other enduring terms, and the cops didn’t take kindly to this. Now he faces charges of crimen injuria, defeating the ends of justice and defamation of character. Apparently the traffic cops have been emotionally hurt by his tweets and as such are unable to perform their duties effectively due to emotional distress. I find this queer as they never took notice of the emotional distress they caused me when they pulled me over. According to the head swine the tweeter is also enabling criminals to evade capture by tweeting locations of road blocks and not to mention the countless drunk drivers that now also can avoid driving into an ambush.

Honestly, what murderer, rapist or robber checks their twitter account after committing a heinous crime? Standing in a pool of blood, he reaches for his Blackberry, opens up Twitter and frantically searches for @PigSpotter and plans his escape route. Not to mention the drunk driver who can barely stay upright, with one eye closed to get better focus trying to open up Twitter and after several failed attempts and 20 minutes later finally tries to read @PigSpotter’s updates.

During the last few days the police have been searching for @PigSpotter. They have set up road blocks and are illegally searching people’s phones. God forbid you have a Black Berry and your Twitter account is open when they pull you over! To be fair I do understand where the traffic cops are coming from, it must be disheartening to have your job satisfaction hampered by a maverick social networking evil genius with a sharp sense of humour. The one thing I think they have failed to comprehend is that @PigSpotter might be one person’s account but there are at least, at the moment, 18 110 Pig Spotters out there of which I am one. How do they think the tweeter gets his information? Are they going to arrest us all? Should I and my Blackberry (which I’m only getting next month) go into hiding?

Clearly I am biased when it comes to my friend @PigSpotter, he is my hero! @PigSpotter stopped tweeting about road blocks as I am sure he would not want to assist criminals in getting away and he has stopped calling traffic cops pigs, pork chops and bacon rashes. But he is still tweeting about speed traps, where cops are taking bribes, traffic jams and the illegal searches that are being conducted in an effort to track him down. What he is doing might be illegal but is his actions damaging? Of this I am not sure, I’ll leave it for you to decide – one man’s villain is another man’s hero!

Till next time.

Do you think @PigSpotter should be arrested Yes or No, take the poll by CLICKING HERE!

WHAT THE F..! No wonder I am a bitch.

They say bad things happen in threes. Well, I am starting to believe I am not the exception to the rule but rather I am setting a new standard for it. In one day my week has been ruined, communications failed and I am for all practical reasons stranded. Being sleep deprived which admittedly causes me to be more bitchy and short tempered than usual, a culmination of events almost pushed me over the edge and turned me into quite the bitch. Let me explain…

About a month ago I was in a small accident resulting in minor damage to my BMW. Luckily having good insurance it was an inconvenience but not the end of the world. My car went in for repairs and lo-and-behold just as they were almost done they discovered that one of my shock absorbers was also damaged. Naturally we assumed it was due to the accident. The insurance company sent out one of their people who concluded it wasn’t. I complained, they sent out another person who came to the same conclusion as his predecessor. It was ruled the shock’s damage wasn’t accident related and they could not find any evidence of the damaged being caused by a pothole or the weal being hit by a curb. Luckily the car was just 16 months old and surely the shock absorber was still covered under the warranty and/or motor-plan so BMW would repair it under these conditions, right? Yesterday my car was sent to one of their workshops, it was examined and the technicians concluded that the damage would not be covered by BMW’s warranty or motor-plan.
I was informed of BMW’s decision late yesterday afternoon; I arrived home wanting to send them a further enquiry via e-mail. I switch on my computer and it didn’t want to work. A few phone calls later my computer was arranged to be taken in for an assessment and repairs. Frustrated I went to bed hoping that a new day would bring new solutions.

Waking up this morning preparing to go to work I had my whole day planned and was optimistic that all would be resolved. That was a mistake! Firstly, my day didn’t go as planned. We were supposed to continue with the cross examination of the state witness but this was preempted by the defense bringing a motion for the judge in the case to recuse himself. This was a shock! The implications being that we will loose a whole week and consequently prolong this tedious trial and if the motion is successful we would have to start the whole trial from scratch. This set the mood for the rest of the day.

The second blow came when I was informed that my computer had a virus and it was potentially lethal to all the data stored on it. The diagnoses were later confirmed and the probability of loosing all my data was estimated at 90%. Now I was left facing potentially having to start from scratch with a complicated trial, having a computer infected with a virus that could cause me to loose 90% of data (both personal and some work related) and I had no mode of transport.
Not being able to do much about the trial motion or my computer at that stage I focused on the only problem I could actually try to resolve – my car. Having already called BMW’s customer care line that yielded no results I decided to escalate my problem to BMW South Africa. Eventually getting hold of someone the issue was painstakingly explained and it was promised I would be provided with a suitable solution within an hour.

Two hours later not having heard anything I phoned back. I was informed that BMW would have to send out their regional manager to inspect my car and he would make a final recommendation. Finally, I thought, I was gaining some ground until he muttered the second part of his sentence. The regional manager would only be available next month. Almost hyperventilating at this point I asked the guy in the most restrained manner I could what other alternatives I had as waiting another month clearly is not an option. To my utter surprise and disgust he told me I could fetch my car from the panel beaters and use it until the regional manager was available. Thinking I heard him wrong I repeated “So you want me to fetch my car and drive around with it while it clearly has a mechanical fault?” He answered in the affirmative. Shocked I asked to speak to his manager, he answered that he was the manager, asked to speak to his immediate superior and was told she was in a meeting in Cape Town. Completely at a loss for words a short uncomfortable silence followed ending with me putting down the phone in his ear.

As I was typing my formal complaint about BMW this afternoon on my very slow and old computer (the computer that was replaced with the one currently infected with a virus) I receive a “courtesy” call from BMW’s customer care wanting to know whether I was satisfied with the service my car received at the branch it was taken and whether all repairs were done to my satisfaction. The first thing going through my mind was “What the fuck?!” As I was not responding due to disbelief she asked whether I was still on the line and I responded by saying “NO!” It slipped out and confused her. She asked me “No your not on the line or no your are not completely satisfied?” The stupidity of that question set my off on a 20 minute rant and by the end I had her repeat everything that I had said to make sure she had noted it correctly which took her a further 15 minutes. Now both our days were ruined.

So yes I had a shitty day. The court case has been frustrated, my brand new computer has a virus and my BMW is still broken. There are two more days left of this week. If I am not going survive it I am taking everybody around me with me to the loony bin.

Till next time.

Kathy Griffin - Everybody Can Suck It

Rear Ended!

How I just adore ending a busy not so pleasant week with a bang. I have only been in two car accidents in my whole life, both rather minor. Being a good driver I firmly believed that I would not be in a third. Gosh, how presumptuous can one be. So today at 2:20pm, on a clear spring day it happened. I was rear ended and not in a good way. Being slightly shaken, a little bit pissed off and grossly annoyed I have to go jump like a show dog through several hoops to get my insurance to pay out. The prospect of this unexpected additional drudgery is turning this little “ray of sun shine” into a “little thundercloud”. Regardless how I may feel, I am glad I have insurance.
Minding my own business at a slip way with my car peacefully idling and waiting my turn to enter the road I am abruptly jerked out of my Zen serenity. Without warning my car flies forward, my sunglasses is ripped of my face and in the shock of moment I am left confused: What just happened? Did I take my foot of the clutch by accident? If I did that then way was there a load noise? As my car comes to a halt and my eyes readjust to the sharp sunlight, I pick up my sun glasses from the dashboard put them back on and look into my rear view mirror. Behind me I see a white car with a very pale and shocked driver and passenger. The horrified expression on their faces notified to what transpired – they crashed into me. As the bitch in me wanted to surface I remembered what my mom use to say “always be nice when you’re in an accident, people do not give you their correct details if they think you are going to kill them!” So, I rummaged through my gay man bag for a pen and paper. I took a couple deep breaths before exiting my car to prepare me for the shock I was to find on inspecting the damage.
As I stepped out of my car walking towards the back of it I noticed the other car’s windscreen was cracked on two places – two places where the driver and his passenger hit their heads. They were not wearing safety belts. Still being pissed off I was concerned that they might be injured so I walked over to their car to ask them if they were ok. The driver looked scared as this angry platinum blond gay guy who is visibly fuming was making his way towards him. Reaching their car with his now almost completely rolled window I asked two questions “Are you guys ok?” and “Do you have insurance?”. He answered in the affirmative to both. I then proceeded to ask him to get out his car so I could take down his details. The front his car was completely wrecked and the back of my car damaged but less severely in comparison. While taking down his details he begged me not to phone his dad before he had a chance to speak to him first. Honestly at that point I could give a damn about what his father was going to do to him, but I respected his wishes as I knew for sure he was going to be in trouble anyway.
Arriving at the police station to report the accident my calm demeanor soon changed as I was informed I had to go to another police station to file a report - the accident didn’t happen in their jurisdiction. That was so the wrong thing to say to me at that time! Feeling like I just went through a traumatic event I decided to throw a hissy fit, as only a slightly effeminate gay guy can. I refused to go to another station and demanded to file my report there. There was absolutely no reasoning with this blond as I was now angry and determined. For some reason the police officer thought raising his voice would get his point across. Naturally I also raised mine in response and told him there was nothing wrong with my hearing and whether he liked it or not I will file my report with them. By this time the whole of the police station was looking at me as if I was crazy. In retrospect it was more post traumatic shock than being crazy, but I did get my way at the end.

Arriving home I contacted my insurance company, calmly informed them of my splendid afternoon and they e-mailed me their claim form with an annexure with a detailed description of everything I have to do, get and go through to get my car fixed. It took me a while to complete the form being asked everything apart from requesting a DNA sample. So on Monday I will be getting quotes, possibly throwing more hissy fits, and bitching about it to all that that will listen and also those who don’t. Being in an accident is an inconvenience but I am grateful no one got hurt. At least everyone is still alive; our cars are dented and we will be adding additional chores to our busy schedules, but shit happens! Like a friend have been quoted as saying “Put your big girl panties on and deal with it” so deal with it I will.

Till next time.

Kathy Griffin - Allegedly

Pet Peeves

Life can be filled with small annoyances that some of us bear with greater ease than others. Having spoken to some of my more neurotic friends I have come to realize that one’s pet peeves can shed light on one’s own idiosyncrasies. This let me to wonder what my pet peeves say about me.

One of my pet peeves is having to stand in a queue - I absolutely despise it! It’s worsened when I am standing in front of Chatter Box or a Moaner. When standing in a queue I am usually not in the mood for idle conversation and chatty people tend to find me rude as all my responses are limited to one word answers until they eventually leave me alone. The moaners who vocalize how staff is moving at a glacial speed, are incompetent and how this delay will adversely affect the rest of the busy schedules also makes my blood boil. Complaining has never and will never speed up any queue and the only assured effect is the frustration of those around you. Many a time I had the urge to turn around and smack such people behind the head and tell them to shut the hell up! But alas I never have.

Another of my pet peeves is punctuality. I absolutely hate being late and get really irritated when other people seemingly find it impossible to tell time. In South Africa this phenomena is know as “African Time”. The “African Time Syndrome” spans across all age, race and gender groups. One of my friends is a prime example of someone afflicted with this syndrome– she has never been on time for anything not even to her own birth being 3 weeks late! Whenever you invite to her a party or dinner you have to deceive her by telling her the shindig starts 90 minutes earlier than the actual time - even then she can be up to 30 minutes late. As the years passed we have come to accept this as one of her quirks. We have now made peace with the fact she has an incurable aversion toward punctuality and her wrist watch is purely an accessory.
Telemarketers are one of life’s annoyances that drive me nuts and bring out the bitch in me. The best way to deal with a persistent telemarketer, I have found, is to be firm, stand your ground and make sure you start every conversation with “If you are selling anything I am hanging up”. If this doesn’t deter them your next course of action is to ask the marketer 2 questions: “Are you rich?” and if the answer is No followed by “Then how the hell do you expect to make me rich!” This usually works with all insurance or wealth brokers. Your last and only recourse with all other forms of telemarketers is to ask whether what they are selling is “Free”. This usually throws them of balance. I have also found asking them what’s in it for them also causes mass confusion. When ever I am in a good mood I also enjoy teasing them. Inevitably I would be asked whether I am married and I find great satisfaction correcting them when they make reference to my “wife”. At this point the marketer usually is uneasy and I being an opportunist worsen their discomfort by interrogating their views regarding gay rights in Africa & the Middle East. As a result very few remember why they phoned me and the conversation is usually short lived.
There’s nothing more comforting in winter than standing in a warm shower after a long day but sometimes water pressure issues has caused me mini heart attacks. My husband has the nasty habit of flushing the toilet while I am enjoying a relaxing shower. As the cold water wash over me and my body goes into a cringing shock I am instantly taken back to my christening: Wearing a white dress and having a old man throwing cold water over my head while I am screaming my lungs out in my mother’s arms! I know my husband doesn’t do this on purpose, but I do – it’s my benevolent revenge! As I hear his high pitched shrieks echo from the bathroom I always wonder whether I made my point.

Being stuck in traffic and road works are near the top of my pet peeve list; worse than the above are the last of my pet peeves - “Sunday afternoon cruisers” and the “Purple dye club”. The “Sunday afternoon cruisers” are those individuals that think the speed limit is a recommendation and always tend to drive much slower than is suggested. They also don’t seem to understand the concept of keeping their car in their own lane and drive with an observable lack of urgency or courtesy.

The “Purple Dye club” are all our older drivers, the ones that should not be allowed behind any steering weal but instead should be driven by a designated driver from their retirement village. You can spot the “Purple Dye club” a mile away; they are the ones whose cars are crawling down the road with the driver barely visible with only a pair of heavy duty spectacles peaking over the steering weal which they cling to it for dear life with a noticeable anxiety. They are the drivers that always have freedom of way and it’s their god given right as your elder to cut you off. Very few know how to operate their indicators or understand the purpose of all the mirrors on their cars. Their reaction time is well over 1 minute and it takes them 10 minutes to manoeuvre their cars into a parking space plus an additional 10 minutes to enter and/or exit their vehicles. Once I waited almost 20 minutes for grandma & grandpa to get into their car and exit their parking space at a shopping mall. This is one of my little habits that exasperate my husband – I’d rather wait 20 minutes for a prime parking space than having to walk 100 meters.

If I had to list and explain all my pet peeves I could write a book thicker than War & Peace. Not everyone share similar irritations in life and I have also come to realize how easy it is to become immune to others. What my pet peeves say about me I am not sure as being able to examine one self objectively is nearly impossible. However, queues, punctuality, telemarketers, water pressure & bad drivers will remain high on my list of top pet peeves.

Till next time.

Funny Granny