People That Bother Me

With a title like that, this post could go on forever, but today I'll limit the list to two.

I can't deal with strangers who start a conversations with you for no other reason than to tell you how much money they make. This type of person seems to dumb to be true, but they exist and they flock to me.  Oh no folks, I'm not hitting the bars at night, chatting up all the local D-bags, I'm standing on the sidelines of the playground, watching my kid discover the horribleness of the bumpy slide (I'll get to the strange playground equipment later.....).

Is this the place that you desperately tell strangers how much money you make? No it's not, but don't tell that to all the insecure weirdos of the world. This is clearly a D-bag move to impress a stranger, but who would this impress? The guy making minimum wage isn't going to pipe up about his income, but neither is a rich dude. This type of strange conversation only happens with liars and embellishers. So when the magic dollar amount is dropped out of thin air, what sort of response am I supposed to have? Are they seeking a "Wow!" or a "Gee mister, would you buy me some new boobs?". Well if that's the response that they're looking for, then they've shared their news with the wrong gal, because my first and only instinct is to call bullshit, but then what?

I hate these people! Are they trying to pick you up or what? I just want to tell these idiots, "I'm married with two kids! The jig is up! I know all about dudes. Stop waving your freak flag because most grown women won't fall for your lame line of bullshit! You are a creep!"

Playground side note:  Why does my child have a choice between a smooth, traditional slide and a bumpy slide? Who the hell wants to ride down the bumpy slide? I've been to far to many ill designed playgrounds over the last few years and I honestly don't see the purpose for half of the equipment that is being presented to my kids. Our main playground has these parallel bars that slant diagonal from the top of the play structure all the way down to the ground. WTF???? I'd love to see some playground manufacturer demonstrate what these are used for, besides concussions and stitches of course.

My last gripe of the day is about the guys that drive around town like amateur race car drivers. I don't recall the last time that I watched professional racing where the drivers lap the track in souped up Mitsubishi Eclipses with loud mufflers, but maybe I'm watching the wrong channel. I think these fellas need to hear the cold hard truth....Nascar doesn't send scouts out into traffic searching for raw, undiscovered talent. No one will ever pull you over and congratulate you for getting to the next stop light the fastest. No one will ever give you credit for that sweet move you pulled on the freeway. By the way, that lane on the far right side of the freeway is the slow lane, not the passing lane for people who own the Fast and the Furious Trilogy on DVD. That racing stripe that you paid extra to have painted on your Dodge Neon doesn't give you anymore speed than the super hero cape you wore as a child. Stop driving like a D-bag.