Skip to main content

Sauce: The List.

I’ve compiled a list of people who have no reason to live.  I’m sure it could be longer but my conscience is already bothering me, poking me with its bony little finger and whispering, “Remember that annoying thing you did the other day that probably drove fifty people to suicide, just so they wouldn’t have to share the globe with someone as irritating as you?  Hmm?”
Be that as it may.  My list still stands.  If you are one of these people, I recommend you change your ways or stop reading right away.  
1.  Bikers and skiers.  Who wear tight little suits.  But aren’t professionals.  And who take over the walking trails in winter and the roads in summer and expect all others to bow to the whims of their hobbies.
2.  People who wear tight little suits of any kind.
3.  People who think whispering is less of a disturbance than quiet speech.  How.  How can you think this.  Even super smart amazing people think this, but they are wrong.  Sssssssssssssss.
4.  People who drive through an intersection while you’re still in the crosswalk.  I do this a lot because I’m a big important person with PLACES TO BE LIKE, TEN MINUTES AGO, HELLLOO YOU HUMAN TURTLES.  But when people do it to me?  I look up the specific law that says you’re not supposed to do that, type it in double large font, print it on day-glo paper, find their house, and nail it to their pillow so it’s the first thing they’ll see every morning.  Only then am I satisfied.
5.  People who talk to me while I’m most obviously trying to write super crucial things, like this list.
6.  People who talk to me.
7.  People who don’t talk to me.
8.  People who don’t drink real milk.  Even if you’re lactose intolerant, you should drink real milk.  I’m so serious right now.  I’ve probably never been this serious in my entire life.
9.  People who can shuffle cards without hurting themselves.  If they are “people”.
10.  Conspiracy theorists, paranoiacs, and people who think they know everything and are the judge of everyone else.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Welcome to Weirdness!

Hi, world, and welcome to “The Password’s Lasagna”!  One day I’ll share where that name came from - for now, just revel in the wonderful idioticity of the word “Lasagna”.  Say it over and over again.  Let it flip off your tongue in all its gleeful lasagnaness.  Say it until it means nothing, say it ‘til it means everything.  Lasagna.  It’s a word with many layers.  Moving on quickly now... I have to wonder if, in a year, I will regret this first post.  I’ll think “what kind of imbecilic idiot was I, to think starting a blog would be a good idea?”  As if there aren’t more constructive things to do.  Like...fishing.  Or hunter-gathering (which is the sport of gathering as many hunters as possible in one weekend and stuffing them all in the back of a closed pickup, preferably with a limb or so hanging out and dripping blood).  Or making clay...things.  Useful things.  Mugs and the like.  Or I could be chillin...

Noodles: It’s autumn, all of you.

Hi world.  It’s me, your favorite super sheltered, extremely Scandinavian, strangely endearing pile of soggy, tomato-drenched crinkly noodles! Otherwise known as Baby Swedish Lasagna under an Inadequate Tent. The reason I bring up my origins is this: I grew up without hearing anyone say “y’all”.  I believe the contraction never crossed my path outside of a book until middle school, when it became trendy among my equally sheltered, pale-skinned friends. I started saying it often, with little understanding of its pronunciation, spelling, or proper usage. At some point, perhaps in a fit of cultural sensitivity, maybe after the madness of middle school had seeped out of my neurons, I stopped using it. Except in emails. Yes, my friends, I am an email y’aller.  It just works for the already-awkward group conversations.  There’s honestly no equivalent in northern dialect.  Check it out. “You guys.”  Offensive to feminists. “You girls.”  Offensive...

Noodles: I’m not easily suede, butt...

My house is currently being shown by a realtor to an average of two potential buyers each day.  They come and they go, and, in real estate as well as trail etiquette, they take only photographs (as far as I can tell) and leave only footprints.   Technically. Not to abruptly change the subject, but have you ever sat on a suede* couch?  If you did, I bet you drew pictures on it with your finger, because the material shows light when you brush it one way, dark the other.  It’s a very impressionable fabric.  I have one of those couches.  It’s tan-ish, it’s comfy, and I like it very much.**  It’s in my living room, because it’s a couch and that’s where couches seem to prefer to live.  They like it dry and temperate with a little bit of soft lighting and a nice view of their territory, as well as easy access to the street in case they have a conflict with the armchair*** and need to make a quick getaway.   But I digress.   All you rea...