Five Reasons You Can Call Me "Hey, ASSHOLE!"

I probably think you're annoying.

It's either the way you talk or the things you talk about or the things you bother me with so you can have someone to talk to about them. I'm very intolerant. Even if I'm just looking at a picture of someone I've never met, I start making judgments left and right on whether or not we could ever be in the same room. The number of people I can spend 24 hours straight with? Very small.

I can't help it. I swear.

I have people who work for me that are paid to do my dishes.

I mean, sometimes, that is just what assistant means. They're very helpful.

I get the road rage.

I absolutely hate hate hate asshole drivers. So, obvious solution was to become one. When a lane is merging and there is at least a mile of WARNING! LANE MERGING! signs and people STILL act like a lane is still there, I get so so so mad. I slowly inch my car back to the right, narrowing the un-lane more and more until I'm straddling both lanes. Some people (fuckers!) still risk side-swiping their car and go around but mostly, I seem to control the situation. It is very unsafe and I'm often scared that someone will follow me home and try to kill me, but I like to tell myself that before I die I will yell, "YOU WERE AN ASSHOLE FIRST!"

I don't keep in touch.

If you're directly in front of me (or inside the magical box on my desk) I can chatter for hours but, as the saying goes, out of sight out (near) mind. I manage to remember you enough to feel extremely guilty about ignoring your existence. Unless you're one of those annoying people.

I'm one of those people at Starbucks with the super special order.

I don't think it's all that special: Tall Nonfat Peppermint LATTE with whip.

I always have to emphasize LATTE because if I don't they make a mocha. Which I think is too sweet. I don't like foam so I ask for whip and the un-nonfat milk gives me a tummy ache. It doesn't seem a lot in my head, but people always make fun of me. So fine, whatever, I'm a Starbucks asshole.