Are you wondering what song my current mood would be, if moods were songs and vice versa? Thanks for asking! It would be “I don’t give a fuck” by Peaches, which is of course a version of the Joan Jett classic “Bad Reputation.” My entire day has, for no reason in particular yet also every reason imaginable, been the living incarnation of part where she crazily shrieks “I DON’T GIVE A FUCK!!!”
So I won’t do that damn Facebook “25 random things about me” thing, but since I have been irrationally, hugely angry all day, I am going to channel that anger instead into:
Twenty Five Things I Fucking Loathe
I have exactly 16,575 other things I’ve been meaning to blog about (Sasha Frere-Jones, Loomstate jeans, podcasts, the Grammys and whether or not Jacob won one, calling The Flaming Lips “The Flips” and oh so much more!), but I can tell that this needs to take precedence so I can get unangry. Here we go!
1) People who buy animals at pet stores. Oh come the fuck on. It’s 2009 and I still need to explain to you that when you buy an animal from a pet store, another animal dies and its blood is on your hands?
2) People who complain that they wanted a puppy, and there weren’t any at the shelter that day, so they were, basically, forced to go to the shelter. Blood. On. Your. Hands.
3) People who argue that buying dogs from breeders doesn’t mean your dog is inbred. People who have romantic notions that keeping the purity of dog breeds going is somehow noble strike me as, well, fucking racist. Does anyone else feel me? I want mixed up multi-colored people, and I want mixed up multi-colored dogs too. Some people have told me that in the wild dogs would only have sex with their specific breed, so we are actually being kind to them to keep their genetic lines pure. Do I even need to deign to explain that dogs are no longer in the wild, and most likely that was only because dog breeds were separated by geography? Oh god, the whole issue makes me so angry. (If I was a better animal rights activist I wouldn’t have pets, I know that. I never claimed to be perfect, remember. Just mostly perfect!) Update: My position on this issue doesn’t mean, however, that I agree with PETA’s ridiculous, ineffectual tactics!
4) Speaking of perfection: I loathe it when people say, “Well, things are never going to be perfect” when I am complaining that my truffle-shipping system, or bangs, or watermelon, or HTML, or watever, are not perfect. It seems to me that the striving for perfection is what makes one an interesting and useful person, and people who go on about how things can’t be perfect are hater losers.
5) Wraps. (My wrap-loathing is so intense that I actually wanted to go to this place when I heard about it. [NSFV: Not safe for vegans: meat picture!])
6) Uggs boots. A no-brainer. And, of course, the be-sweatpanted lemmings who wear them.
7) My commute to work. Only 10 miles each way, but amazingly infuriating. (Speaking of: I bought the scooter!! I know I should have bought a used one, but J and I fell in love with the electric thing and oh my it is pretty. I won’t be using it until the spring, though, because I also loathe:)
10). Winter clothes.
11) Winter shoes.
13) Ice storms.
16) People who like winter.
17) People without any sense of perspective who obsess over the tiny annoyances in their lives while not acknowledging that on the whole their lives are really fucking amazing. For instance, me.
18) Patchouli, and people who wear it.
19) People who tell me that I turn more people off with my far-left positions than I enlighten, because no one listens to you when you refuse to see shades of gray. These people always tell me that things are not black and white and always manage to implicitly (or explicitly) call me childish and imply that once I grow up I will see more than one side of an issue. I very kindly reply that I do see the other side of the issue, I see it very clearly and precisely: it’s stupid. If that doesn’t work, I call them “good Germans” and walk away.
20) People who can’t write a fucking email without typos and gramatically incorrect sentences so extreme that their meaning is actually obscured (usually reversed, in fact: “I can’t not pick up those truffles” for example). Classism doesn’t play into this: no one received a worse primary education than me, people. Half the kids in my high school had guns, and we weren’t allowed to wear black and red together at any time lest it provoke a riot. No one ever gave me a dollar for college, but I read The New Yorker and took out thousands upon thousands of student loans (I’m not saying I recommend you do the same: I do not) and now I can at least conjugate a damn verb now and then. It’s not that I’m in favor of going to college (I am not), but you don’t have to have a college degree to take pride in your writing skills and to read something besides TMZ all day.
21) When you get tea in a coffeeshop to stay, why don’t you ever get a saucer on which to put your spent tea bag? Things like that really make me feel our civilization has gone so far to shit that we will never get it back. (This is one reason to go to the Village Tea Room, for sure. They have proper tea in a proper cup with a proper saucer. Sorry to get all English granny on you, but I loves my tea).
22) The mainstream record industry. Oh, I would so like to say more.
23) Dudes. Except for, like, four. I am amazed at how much my dude-loathing never really dies down. I was an angry Women’s Studies major almost a decade ago, and still get as angry about patriarchy (and frat boys) as I did then.
24) And here is where I alienate everyone I haven’t already alienated: I truly believe that people who have gmail accounts are idiots, mindless drones willing to trade their very souls for storage space. You KNOW that they (OK, computer robot thingies, but still) read your email and target ads based on the very things you talk about. It gives me the creeps, and yes, this happens to me in myraid ways anyway (I was just reading an article on nyt.com and one of the ads was for chocolate truffles), but to invite it willingly by having a gmail account strikes me as way too Orwellian to be safe.
25) To be perfectly honest, I kinda fucking loathe Obama these days. I’m actually stunned that even though I wasn’t exactly for him before, I must have secretly bought into the great lie and believed he would solve at least some problems, because what he’s doing with this stimulus package is absolutely infuriating me. Tax cuts for rich people: thanks, asshole!
Well, this tired me out, but I feel so much less angry! Thanks, internets! (Hey, If you’re angry and don’t have a blog and/or are more apt to cry it out rather than scream it out, here is some fodder. I hate marriage, but I cried ridiculously at this. Also, how much do you love Regina Spektor? I have it on good authority that she is a sweet person, which I thought I’d pass along because I am that annoying kind of bitch who only wants to support artists who are good people, another thing people laugh at me for.)
Are you wondering what Peaches song my everyday life would be, if everyday life were songs and vice versa? It would of course be the all-too-true “AA XXX.” What would I do without Peaches to explain my life so melodically?