By: Tosha Woronov
I hate summer. I hate people who love summer, who go on and on about how much they love it. People who don’t sweat. Who invite you over for a swim. Or to the beach. Every. Damn. Day. I like autumn and winter people. People who suggest coffee and a movie, or a trip to Barnes and Noble. People who get that any invitation requiring a bathing suit is offensive, presumptuous, annoying.
I often won’t bother to open photographs that people email to me. But I lie that I did. I read the jpeg description – “kids at play in Cape Cod” and I email back: “Oh my god the kids are so frickin’ CUTE! Looks like you guys had a blast!” Sometimes I get a crisis of conscience and decide to open them later. But after 15 seconds, if that attachment doesn’t open, forget it. Delete. (I will –and did –stop everything to pore over emailed photos taken at the high-school reunion that I didn’t attend.)
I do expect people to open, view, and comment specifically and with great fanfare on the pictures that I email to them. I’ll check email several times a day to see if they’ve responded. I know, I know. Messed up.
I like when Leo gets sick. I like knowing we are supposed to stay in bed late, watch TV. I like that he probably won’t want dinner, just a popsicle, or some fruit. I like that we have to cancel or decline all play dates until he’s better. I like dosing him with kids’ Motrin.
If one more person tells me they are on their way to, or just returning from, Hawaii, I’m going to throw up.
I write people off the second I see that they’ve used the wrong form of “its”. Or say “I could care less” (makes no sense -it’s couldn’t). The almost always inappropriate and unnecessary use of the word “myself”. The baffling refusal to use the word “me” (“That was so funny to Tom and I” – huh??). And I know I need to get over my issues with LOL, that it has taken over the world, but I can’t. I just…can’t.
I hate the mom who gabs nonstop during her kid’s basketball/baseball/football games, missing passes caught, plays made, points scored. Don’t you know your kid looks for you in the stands after doing something remarkable? You suck.
I am DONE with mothers who refuse to follow the basic rules of society: stand in line, don’t cut (especially your friend with her 5 kids sneaking in at the last minute to “join you”), make your kids sit still, shut the f-up (who cares about the remodel of your kitchen?), and let this poor magician (or juggler, or wildlife expert, or puppeteer) perform his free (!!) act in this public library for your rude ass.
I hate when people don’t email or text me back, but rather, decide to call.
My text: “What time are we meeting tomorrow?”
The response: phone rings.
This, too, has taken over the world and I can’t get over it: invitations to gatherings and parties that appear only on Facebook. Seriously? No one’s even using Evite anymore?
I hate adults who freak out when my dog gallops toward them at the park. I know; it’s the law. He’s supposed to be on a leash. But he’s a stuffed animal. A sweet, waggy-tailed, fluffy stuffed animal. I kinda wish he did bite.
Oh my god, the moms in Whole Foods and other high-end natural food markets! I’m in there, too. I’m buying kale, and wheat grass, and beets. I’m turning my kid on to meatless protein crumbles. But I don’t really belong there. These women in organic cotton sundresses –with their translucent skin, waif-ish arms, and tribal tattoos– they own the place. Like they started the whole…thing. How long have they been eating this shit anyway? And I hate their kids, begging for a spirulina smoothie.
Is no one going to at least admit that processed foods taste good? Really. Kraft macaroni and cheese grosses you out? Really.
I hate people who say they never watch TV. Whatever.
Or people who say they just love! to get up early.
I could go on and on.
But OMFG I’m hating this, too.