Month: July 2010

You know what gets my panties in a bunch?
People who have personal conversations very loudly and obnoxiously on their cell phones in public– especially in small or enclosed spaces.

Annoying wench at T-mobile: “OH MY GOOOOSH!! I was JUST about to call you! No, I'm not busy at all. I'm just at T-mobile waiting my turn in line. So…how are you?? How has life been since your operation? Are you 100% cancer-free now?”
Washed up former MVP high school football star athlete: “Bitch! You better cut that shit out right now! I'm so tired of you always nagging and pulling this bullcrap on me! No, YOU shut the fuck up, you stupid whore! I'm tired of your shit!”
Super local public school girl in Jr. High at the bookstore: “Whea you stay? You get one girlfriend? You have a girlfriend don't you? Then why you no like gimme yo numba? I gave you mine. Why won't you unblock yo numba? I ain't no hoochie, you know? Just tell me. Eh, gimme yo numba, you suckin' playa.”

Really? No one wants to hear about your personal life.
Go outside and talk. Talk softer.
Get a grip on life!
No one needs to know about your one-night stands, your dying relative, your kid's failing grades, or your domestic issues.
Really, I'd rather just see a bunch of assholes texting furiously on their phones than having personal conversations out loud in public for the whole world to hear.
And those ridiculous people who talk on the phone in the elevator…what can be so important?
Do we suddenly not believe in text messaging? Because it's generally the same people who blindly text message while “multi-tasking” who like to have obnoxious and loud personal phone conversations in enclosed public spaces.
I thought that's what “smartphones” were for. You can text, instant message, or email.
Or…how about this?? Save it the eff for later, jerkfaces!

And that, my friends, is what gets MY panties in a bunch.

You know what gets my panties in a bunch? ?

When assholes automatically assume that I cannot speak English and try to get my attention by speaking in Japanese (or some other sort of Asian language they think I speak).

Kiosk sales people: “Konichiwa! Look! Kore mite, onesan. Can I show you something cool?”
Me: “I speak English, you cunt. Or shall I say it in Arabic?”
Ridiculous men:“Konichiwa, baby. You look so kawaii.”
Me: “I am an American and speak English probably better than you. Dimwit.”
Man working at a bar & hustling me in Mexico: “Hey kirei chica! Konichiwa! Margarita? Roku margarita por the price of ichi.”
Me: “1. I'm an American. 2. You didn't even say that right.”

Oh my Lady Gaga! Seriously??
Please don't assume that I can't speak English.
I was born and raised in America. I went to an American school taught by American teachers.
I have assimilated to the American way. I even have an American name that is legally my FIRST— not middle– name.
I don't dress in crazy outfits like FOB girls. I don't even have crazy hair and make up like them FOB girls. 
I was in Honors English all my life. I speak perfect English with no accent whatsoever.
So, if you want me to buy something highly overpriced, useless, and ridiculous, don't call out to me in your broken Japanese. If you want me to give you my number and give up my goodies, don't try to flirt with me with your heavily foreign accented broken Japanese.
Honestly, it doesn't impress me at all. In fact, it offends me.

And that, my friends, is what gets MY panties in a bunch.