OMGJeremy

We Reveal: Things We Can No Longer Tolerate

Surprise of the Century!  The writers for OMGJeremy are a bunch of grumps and can complain all day long about absolutely nothing!  And then can write about it!  This is because we are “humor writers” and observational humor is easy, but it is even easier when it is actually trying to just mask a lot of whining.  Although, we’re not saying that we successfully masked a damn thing here.  The other problem with our crankiness is that we are slowly turning into elderly people, so occasions that used to not even register as anything to be annoyed by are becoming events that can make or break an entire day via causing an Anger-Aneurysm or Hate-Heart Attack.  Watch out because in ten years, we will be writing about how mad it makes us when a kid touches the house thermostat, or how these damned windows let the heat just fly right out in the winter.  I assume at that age, most concerns involve heating bills.  Anyway, read on, reader.

Jeremy Hates: Screaming Children

It’s not like I can really help it. It’s one of the few things that genuinely hit my brain in a way that almost paralyzes me with anger. I have no clue where the origins came from, or why. But there is not a time when I hear a shrieking child where I don’t make a facial expression like someone has just slapped me in the face. I quickly look around to see where the offending noise is coming from, as if I was about to run over to the small child and begin face-smacking it as fast as I could. I’m well aware I can’t do such a thing without being beaten to death and arrested, but I at least have the hope that the child will see my scowl and know how displeased I am with it.

Blood pressure is rising even from looking at this soundless image.

There is no worse situation than being in a confined space with one, either. Just recently, my girlfriend and I were sitting in a fairly nice restaurant enjoying our meals. When out of nowhere a shriek this earth has not heard since the Shriekbeasts wandered it freely came from right behind me. It shattered my spine and went right up into every nerve ending my brain has. The face I made at my girlfriend caused her alarm, as she suddenly thought I was going to stab and kill her. But my anger was not meant for her. It was for the child behind me. All of it. I wanted nothing more than to just get up and leave, because my evening was instantly ruined. It is to this day the main reason why I don’t have kids. I. Just. Cant. Handle. It.

Amanda wants to add that she hates screaming children even when they are happy and playing. Because she is an evil witch who cannot bear to hear the sounds of childish joy.

Amanda Can’t Stand: Goths, Punks, Posers, Any Trendster Youth Culture

Listen, I was never much of a follower or a hanger-on, nor have I ever really been part of a trend.  It is not because I am too cool for any of that, it is mostly because I am not interested in style or fashion or looking like a group of similar people because I don’t NEED to “belong” in order to feel okay about myself.  So I guess it’s a mixture of laziness, disinterest, and being disdainful of others, and also too cool.  But I mean even when I was a teenaged person, I was no great fan of people who wanted to fit in with a group.  I thought cliques and all of that made it easy to see how someone was dressed and easily make assumptions about what they liked and who they hung out with and all of that stuff, and then pretty quickly realized that the way they dressed could let me know what they THOUGHT they liked.  What they pretended to like because they wanted to BE COOL.  TO SOMEONE.  At around this time, I became Intolerant of Subcultures and it only got worse as I got older.

LOOK AT YOU YOU PRECIOUS LITTLE THING AND YOUR CUTE LITTLE IDENTITY

It really hit me when I was about twenty-one years old and I saw a girl about to cross the street who had dyed spiky hair, thick eye make-up, a spiked collar, black nail polish, various piercings and tattoos, platform boots, and a shirt that said “Punk” in pink rhinestones.  I sneered at her and said, “Look at that.  What a dumb bitch.  She can’t possibly have her own personality.  What a worthless piece of shit.”  YEAH IT WAS STRONGLY JUDGMENTAL but don’t worry, I immediately realized that they ALL are worthless pieces of shit, every single person who can’t make up their own style or think their own thoughts or find their own interests.  They are worse than boring ordinary-looking people because at least boring ordinary people aren’t craving attention from strangers based only on their appearances.  “Hey don’t judge me because I look this way,” they probably say, as though they don’t have a choice but to shop at Hot Topic and mimic a million other drones.  Well, I don’t have a choice, either.  I see this sameness, this cookie-cutter lifestyle based on the stupidest looking clothes btw, and my brain automatically categorizes them as a waste of my time.  Anyway, this story is also the Story of the Day I Got Old and Intolerant.

Billy Detests: Waiting in Line/Traffic/Anywhere

As I have advanced in age, I have found that my ability to deal with waiting has decreased dramatically.  There once was a time in my youth that waiting in a line for a few minutes would have been met with a shrug of the shoulders and a “this ain’t so bad” attitude.  In my golden years it is now met with cursing, flailing, and 9 times out of 10 the yelling of: “Are you waiting for a goddamn written invitation!”

Dying on your feet.

I can’t handle lines anymore.  At the grocery store if I know it is going to be more than 5 minutes worth of waiting, I start to begin serious thinking on just ditching the entire buggy and eating whatever is obtained via a blind scoop underneath the couch cushions.  I stay the hell away from the DMV until the last minute, as well as the Post Office.  Any hotspots for waiting are most of the time avoided.  Yeah I need a book of stamps, but I DO NOT need a criminal record.

Of course there is nothing that can save me from waiting in traffic.  Something else that long ago I wouldn’t have really minded, as I was just out joy-riding and cruising along.  Well, I ain’t cruising nowadays, and there sure as hell ain’t any joy in my ride.  I want to get from Point A to Point B and if you are stopping that by going 5 miles under the speed limit then you are officially a son of a bitch and if your Point B just so happens to be the same as my Point B you might just find yourself a dead son of a bitch.

A headache forms just from looking.

Why the sudden anger over such?  “Can’t you just spare a few extra minutes of your time,” you might say.  If you say that you are a dumbass, by the way.  When I was young I felt like I was immortal and that I had all the time in the world.  My ass is 30 years old now.  THIRTY years old.  I don’t have the time left to waste.  I don’t have much time left in this life o’ mine and I sure as hell don’t want to spend my ever-decreasing seconds on the planet sitting behind some goddamn blue-hair that wants to count out $5 worth of change or forget the fact that a green light means you move your fucking ass.

At this rate, by the time I am 40 I will probably be starting and dying in a massive freeway riot.

Waiters/Waitresses: Jeremy Wrote About This Before Billy Could

So this is another thing that at a younger age I couldn’t have cared less about. I didn’t go to fine dining places very often, and I never expected the lifeless husk behind the counter at my local Taco Bell to wow me with his customer service skills. It just wasn’t ever that important. Now that I’m Of Age it seems almost overly important to me. Like I’m judging an Olympic event or something. No more does a waiter get away with a 4-5 dollar tip just for bringing me my food as he did in my younger days. The older me now thinks that’s the problem with most modern day wait-staff: They just expect it. No matter what shit service they give you, you better have a fist full of crumpled up dollars to present to them in thanks for them carrying out your food, and refilling your drink once. I DO NOT ACCEPT THIS ANYMORE.

Some of them have better things to do than the one thing that they were hired to do.

Lately my plan is this: I go into a restaurant with a maximum tip in mind. This is the tip the waiter will get if he performs flawlessly. And my expectations aren’t even that high. Just be courteous, timely, refill my damn water a couple of times, and bam, you’ll get a good tip. As the dining experience goes on, the counters and checkboxes in my mind start going. How long has it taken to greet us? How long has it been since I last saw them? Did they at least act friendly, or just act like we are being brushed off? It all comes down to the final tally when the bill comes. I am sure that more than a few wait-people were a bit unhappy when they saw 25 cents sitting with that bill. But I am too damn old to give these youngsters a free ride on my dime!

Amanda Cannot Stand: Endlessly Barking Dogs

Like, I grew up around dogs my whole life.  Some barked a lot more than others, but quite a lot of them just barked.  We had this one Doberman that just would not shut up.  But, I was a little kid, I had other things on my mind, like I guess Anything Else.  It just never registered as an annoying thing to me.  Then through my teen years, we had an Old English Mastiff and he hardly ever barked because he would accidentally chomp his jowls, and we lived way far back off the road so we did not have close neighbors with a lot of barking dogs of their own, and I guess that I just forgot about that noise.

Bark! Bark! Bark! BARK! BARKBARKBARKBARK! Bark!

Fast forward a long time to present day.  I live in a city setting now.  Well, in kind of a suburb a little.  And on our block I think there are about a dozen houses with yard dogs.  Many of the dogs are well-taken care of and go inside the house, or are walked and played with, but there are a few – INCLUDING the one right behind us – who don’t have anything to do but yell at everything.  That damn dog yell-barks at squirrels, birds, people in the yards or on the street, the sky.  She barks at it all and I KNOW that she’s just bored.  That’s gotta be it.  But there were times when I understood why some people don’t like dogs.  I used to want a dog of my own!  But now I am worried that I would get a dumb barker.  What if I got a barker??  I wouldn’t want to get and then give away a dog.  That isn’t my style.  I’d have to live with a barking dog for its natural lifespan.  That’s seven to fifteen years of resisting the temptation to kill a damn dog EVERY DAY.

We watched someone’s dog once.  It was a Shetland Sheepdog mix.  That damn little dog would just sit there and bark.  Like, he’d be looking at the wall and barking.  We’d take him for walks, miles and miles a day.  He’d bark while he was walking, attracting stray dogs he would then try to VICIOUSLY ATTACK.  I am pretty sure that dog was what started my intolerance for the sound of a bark.  Empty-headed barks at nothing.  Although that sound still is never as bad as the sound of children crying or having screaming fun, but Jeremy already wrote THAT section.

Conclusion (from Billy because he only wrote one part)

It would appear that we hate many a thing… and I guess we do.  But is that really so bad?  I don’t think it is.  We are just particular people who hold ourselves to great standards and expect the people surrounding us to do the same.  Is it really so much to ask that a waitress gets our order right WITHOUT any lip, or that a baby shuts the hell up when it is within earshot of us?  We aren’t complaining as much as we are just passionately lobbying for a better tomorrow.

When you think about it, has our older age REALLY made us ranting and raving old-timers who waggle our canes disapprovingly at every single thing?  Has old age done that to us, or has it caused us to wake up?  Are our complaints actually valid?  Were we stupid to once upon a time NOT let this stuff bother us, and we are just now waking up and behaving as we should?  I tend to believe we are now better people, and have gained a new and correct perspective on the world as the years have gone by.

If you don’t agree, screw off.  If there is one thing I hate, it is people who goddamn disagree with me.