Part 2 is inevitable and TBD
  1. The sound of slurping...
    Panera Bread had a radio ad featuring their "broth bowls" (or as we call them here in the Anti-Douche Canoe Camp...soup). The creepy ad starts with the sound of loud slurping... just out of nowhere. No "you will unwillingly drive your teeth and your fingernails into your passenger's eyeballs in two seconds" trigger warning. Just... "Sslllllpppppptttttt." I nearly drove my car off a busy highway when the sound assaulted my ears. Can't. Deal. With. Slurping.
  2. When people whisper to me and then get frustrated when I can't hear them.
    Some people find whispering enjoyable. All I experience is hissing, unexplained facial expressions and, if you're too damn close to me, warm, spitty breath on my face. My ears are old and I get panicked when I get the "WHY AREN'T YOU UNDERSTANDING MY HUSHED ATTEMPTS AT COMMUNICATING" face like there's something wrong with me when YOU'RE the one who shirks from loudly annunciating what you have to say. Texting should have abolished this problem years ago.
  3. "Like and Share" memes that are basic AF
    "Like and share if you love Jesus." "Like and Share if you love your kids!" "SOLDIERS, AMIRITE??? Like and Share!!" It's only a matter of time before the influx of Facebook masses take over and dare you to "relist," but only if you have THE GUTS. Probably only 3% of you agree with me. 97% of you are festering examples of human pestilence.
  4. When I'm wearing an article of clothing that requires the use of of those ribbon loops for easy hanging and they slip out of hiding...
    And instead of TELLING me, whoever I'm with just takes it upon themselves to GRAB them and tuck them back from whence they came... Noooooo!!!! Don't!! That's my armpit region and where's there's any sort of fleshy pit, there's bound to be a smell, some moisture, a living organism, a Book of Secrets... you don't know! You don't know my life. You don't know what I've been through. Keep your shit pickers out of my pit regions, k?
  5. Customers eating grapes right off the table in a produce department, because "sampling."
    I worked in produce for 5 years and watching hoards of hungry kleptos snarfing the grapes under the guise of quality control still makes me rage. Do you know how nasty those grapes are? They've been fertilized, fungicided, made into dwelling places by squatting arachnids, stored in cargo ships carrying a menagerie of free range rodents and stocked where the unclean hands of hundreds of strangers poke, prod and discard their saliva soaked cherry pits into the bunches. Enjoy your botulism.