- Making Bathroom Smalltalk. At work or play, I hate running into people I don't really know very well in the public restroom. There's always awkward shuffling around the sink and towel area, forced small talk about "how it's going" or "[mad/glad/ambivalent] it's [day of the week]." If I'm in the stall and I hear someone come in, I will wait until they do their business, wash and leave before I get out (that is, if I don't estimate that I can finish before them). If someone's in a stall when I enter, then I will hurry hurry hurry to bolt myself in before they come out. If I'm on my way to the restroom and I see that someone else is too, I will turn around or walk by and make like I have to go somewhere else. I hate that fucking smalltalk.
- Making Elevator Smalltalk. Same reasons apply for this cramped space. I pray every day that I get on the elevator by myself. If I'm waiting for the elevator and somebody else walks up, I'll either take the stairs or pretend to have forgotten something at my desk. This often happens when I'm leaving work and end up walking to the elevator with a coworker in close pursuit. If I don't know the person that well, I'm outta there. I ain't ridin' down 25 floors trying to think of ways to discuss the awesomeness of the end of the day. And that's not to mention the possibility of picking up more people on the 24th-18th floors, before the elevator runs express.
- Spending the Night at Your Friend's House and Witnessing Them Get Chewed Out by Their Parents. You don't know who's side to be on - your friend who knows you make your Barbies have rough sex, or your friend's mom/dad who believes you to be a saintly example of childhood innocence and perfection.
- Holes in the Inside-Thigh of Your Pantyhose. If I step out in a skirt and hose for work, this little bitch of an annoyance always blights me by the day's end. I feel cute, slim and sexy in hose - my legs are deceptively smoothed and even-toned - I am a goddess in fresh hose. But when my thigh fat busts through the sausage casings by lunch time, I'm begging to take them off by 2 pm. The ripped nylon look might work for fetishists, but when it chokes the herniated fat bulging through, I'll have to wear Desitin all week to heal it. To leave work without them on would be like some awful walk of shame - my skirt wouldn't look right, my legs would be stubbled, and I'd have that general look of being violated between my legs. And a note to Just My Size: Make taller 4x hose. Not all fat people are short, and I'm pretty sure the reason they rip is because the crotch hits about 6 inches below my actual crevasse. Fuck you.
- Being the Mama Spoon to Someone You Don't Care About. On a recent VeryBad date, this guy wanted to spoon, noting specifically in a baby voice, "But I wanna be the baby spoon!" Fuck you.
So there's that,