I Make Fun Of What I Don't Understand

I Make Fun Of  What I Don't Understand
photo credit: 10 | danor via photopin (license)

One of my goals in 2016 is to become more tolerant.

I admit it.  I make fun of what I don’t understand.

Spoiler Alert:  I laugh at others peoples’ expense.  A lot.

You may find that rude – possibly ridiculous – more than likely quite unacceptable – especially if you have no tolerance for bullies.

I don’t look at myself as rude – ridiculous – lacking acceptance – and hardly a bully.

I’m merely an over-achiever when it comes to eye rolls – it’s not my fault so many are willing to give me reason to practice.

Below is a list of probable conundrums I hope to get to the bottom of as I turn the page on 2015.


  • The Man Bun – and the fellas who insist on balancing out the look with a skinny-suit and dress shoes sans socks.  I’m sure these guys think of two words to describe the image they look at in the mirror each morning  – and those would be “I’m Awesome” – however, from my vantage point on the train, I instantly think of two words as well – “douche bag”.


  • People who decorate their car/van/SUV like a reindeer – Ditto for the wreaths attached to the grill.  I like to imagine people responsible for such an over-the-top display have only the  lack of an invitation to various “Reindeer Games” to blame.


  • The bizarre urgency to jog in a blizzard.  Really – the meteorologists are measuring the latest downfall in feet rather than inches and the first thing you think of  is pulling on the spandex and lacing up your running shoes? One question for ya, Where ya going, girl?


  •  Your need to wear the Bluetooth EVERYWHERE – I get the whole “hands-free-in-the-car” compliance thing-a-ma-bob.  I question why you wear the Bluetooth (and more importantly why you feel it is acceptable to carry on a one-sided convo) in aisle 16K at the Target – or on the Metra – or in your booth at the coffee shop – or walking down the middle of a busy street.  Let me let you in on a secret ~ you look ridiculous.


  • Grown men wearing a game jersey – unless you are actually playing the game on an official NFL/NHL/NBA/MBL field – please, don’t.  Sure it’s cute when the youngsters emulate their sports’ heroes.  When men over 30 do it?  Not so much.  You may as well be wearing a name tag that reads: I missed out on a lot as a child.  Namely  – wearing a jersey.


  • Grown women’s infatuation with anything “Hello Kitty” – I’ll give you the Hello Kitty slippers/socks/and the phone cases.  But I gonna have to start questioning your mental faculties when the Hello Kitty steering wheel covers/blow dryers/adult-sized boots/sandwich makers/slow cookers/and Sewing Machines come into play , are purchased and more importantly used by – let me make this perfectly clear – a grown-ass adult.  Stop that shit.  You stop that shit, NOW.


  • Gluten-free paper plates – Now, I’m more than certain  your issues are real – I will, however, tend to get skeptical when you’re dipping french fries in a pool of ketchup atop your gluten-free plate while assuring me of your up-hill climb based on your self-diagnosed case of Celiac Disease.  I have an intolerance as well – You.


  • People who name their offspring goofy-ass names – Memo to parents of Saint – Apple – Moses – Blue Ivy – North – Zuma – Kal El – to name but a few – my only question is WHY?


  • Selfies – Please – someone – anyone – explain to me the attraction of a narcissist and their need to post picture after picture of themselves on the Book of Face daily – and if you’re guilty of posting pictures of your feet – last night’s dinner – or Junior’s report card – you’re just as obnoxious and I’m equally puzzled.


  • People who use the made-up words – you know the clowns who feel the need to assure you that “they have the feels” … or they aren’t particularly fond of “adulting” … refer to their friends as their “squad” … they light up post after post with the  LOL’s on social media … and the folks who feel the need to add that 100 emoji ten times after typing FR…FR.  For real.  Yeah – those “sheeple”.  I laugh at you.  I laugh at you – hard.


  • Assholes – whether their last name is Kardashian or some random guy named Smith who insists on crawling up my ass with his shopping cart as I try to check out at the Jewels – they have one thing in common – they’re assholes.  And, I subsequently judge and giggle.  And, I refuse to offer any apologies.


How about you – what don’t you understand?


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