What are my pet peeves, you ask? Okay, you didn’t ask but Becky of Mommy Wants Vodka did ask. So insead of commenting in her blog, I’ll answer in mine. My list is short but distinguished.
1. White jeans. On anyone. Any body shape, any color/shade/fake bakeiness of skin, age or gender. Always. Always a mistake.
2. Comments from strangers about the condition of my children or quality of my parenting. You? Do not live at my house. Get some business and mind it. Also don’t passive-aggressively critique my parenting by talking to my children and not directly to me. “Your curls are sooo cute! I’ll be they’d be cuter if someone brushed your hair!” or “Does your mommy want you eating candy so close to supper?” Yes. I do. Those Tootsie Rolls keep them from talking for at least 3 minutes. 3 minutes of silence….mmmm…
3. Tattoos on the flabby. See also: tattoos that were quite possibly financed, portrait tattoos done by any artist other than Kat from LA Ink (formerly of Miami Ink fame), tattoos with names of the living or the not blood related and tattoos of cartoon characters.
And this is my #1 pet peeve. It’s a doozy. I’ll bitch and bitch and bitch about this until the day I die.
4. Picture an empty women’s restroom with a dozen stalls. Picture me walking in with a perfect stranger coming in the door right behind me. I choose a stall next to a wall. There are 11 other stalls. Please, for the love of all that’s Holy, please pick a stall other than the one directly next to where I am urinating/flatulating/defecating and/or assorted girly things that will remain nameless. This, of course, doesn’t apply to the “intermission” phenomenon where 12 stalls are in constant rotation by the 1000 women in the audience in a 20 minute time frame. Perfectly understandable and I take no issue with a full restroom. But an empty one? Put some air between you and me, okay?
As for her other questions:
“Fancy” by Reba
Poop in the tub.
(The questions were: What crappy songs to you “jam” to and what makes you gag.)