So. In the category of shit-we-should-all-hate, let’s begin with those plastic seals on the inside of bottled/tubbed products like sour cream or cold medicine tablets or canola oil. I know. I know. The seals protect us from people who get spurned by a stalkee and then set out to kill said stalkee by lacing a bunch of containers of some common product at Wal-Mart with rat poison. If the seal is broken, you might want to choose some other opportunity to show all those assholes from work that you are not a pasty, paranoid, spineless wuss. This is no time to be all risky and dare-devily. That seal did not pick itself open.
And do you know how I know that? Because those goddamned things require a blow torch and an advanced degree from MIT to open. And there’s no way some plastic seal got into MIT. All right. Maybe if it were made in China. But I digress. Whoever invented those things clearly has sadistic leanings. There is never, ever, ever enough hangover to make a substantial tab, plus your hands are probably going to be wet or ooey in some way, and you won’t be able to grip the slippery fricking film anyway. Then you have to go find a knife and cut the damned thing off, and you can never get all of the shards. Is there no one out there who can design an easier seal for God’s sake? It’s the 21st century. We are supposed to have flying cars and robot maids by now and a dog named Astro. Jesus.
And speaking of that, another thing we should all hate is when people use the Lord’s name in vain! God, that makes me furious. But almost nothing gets under my skin like when people make fun of the mentally ill. I get crazier than a psyche ward full of schizophrenics off their meds. The worst, though, the WORST is when writers end their pieces without a conclusion. Any good writer worth a crap knows to sum up everything she’s previously said and leave the reader with a “final-sounding” thought. But a lot of times