Things that have Happened that
Bother Me
Before I start, I just wanted to say
that on this paper, for the most part whenever I’m saying the word “you,” I’m
really talking about myself, but using “you” instead of “I” or “me” made me
feel like less of a basket case. Moving on. There are certain things that just
bother me, like bees. I hate bees. They are tiny, yellow and black striped
insects that swarm around you, driving you crazy with their ceaseless buzzing.
Kind of like freshmen, except for the stinging at will part. Spiders are just
as bad. Whenever I see one of those furry monsters, I flip out. A few days ago,
there was a spider in my bathroom. At first look, I could have sworn that it
was a black widow (Not that I know what they look like or anything, I just
assumed that if you were a poisonous spider, you would look like the one in my
bathroom). After tripping over my hair dryer cord and knocking a mirror off my
counter, breaking it in my struggle to get out of harm’s way, I realized that
I’m being ridiculous. I decided to work out my problems, so I made a deal with the
spider, whose name is now Theodore. As long as he stays out of my way, I will
not have my mom kill him. He kept his promise, or so I thought, but then I
realized that he hasn’t moved for 3 days and that he’s dead. Which is annoying
because if I had known that he was just going to bite the dust, I would’ve
saved him from the pain.
What really gets to me is when my
people just die. One of them was a fire fighter and he really enjoyed putting
out the flames, obviously, and chopping down doors to get people out of harm’s
way who were too stupid to leave their house in the first place. At the
firehouse, there was a vending machine in an isolated dark corner, which I
always thought was kind of creepy, so I avoided it completely. However, he did
not, so instead of being a good citizen and paying for a candy bar, he decided
to slam into it, in hopes of snagging a free snack. This then promptly caused
the vending machine to fall on top of him, pop back up, and leave his blunt
force trauma ghost curled up in the fetal position while the grim reaper stole
his soul. His family was in a depression for days, which worsened whenever
their brother was trapped in a small room with no windows or doors, only
flammable rugs and an overabundance of cheap fireplaces. Since he could not
escape, he inevitably burned to death, followed by his ex-wife, who drowned in
a pool with walls around it, making it impossible to save herself. The most
tragic part about this is that the firefighter was my favorite sim and his
death was completely accidental. The other two were of no use to me anymore, so
I killed them off out of rage for his unjust death.
Some people just make me want to
move to a different country. Justin Bieber is a great example. He sometimes
honestly causes me to just sit there with my mouth open, speechless, blinking
like an idiot. I thought Canadian’s were supposed to be nice. “Nice” doesn’t
include trying to start a fight with the paparazzi to make you seem tough
because let’s face it, even if he was a man, he would never be threatening. Peeing
in a bucket in public does not help either. It is gross and I don’t think he
should be allowed to cross the border anymore. Where does he live? Is he an
American? But seriously, Canada, send us more great hockey players, maple syrup,
moose, yaks, and killer whales, but be selfish for once and keep Justin for
yourselves. Ceilings that come crashing down bringing the second great flood of
death and destruction are so not my piece of cake. Especially when it decides
to interrupt your art class and you were almost done stapling canvas into wood
with a stubborn stapler who didn’t like shooting pieces of metal into a former
tree, when all of a sudden, it’s just like BOOM! Water is everywhere and this
primal instinct to grab your stuff and run for the door, not caring who falls
over in your wake, just as long as you get out of there alive, sets in. Your
adrenaline crazed mind takes control and you can’t get rid of this horrible
urge to shout, “It’s called Natural Selection, slow pokes,” at the stragglers
who didn’t get to the door fast enough and had pieces of ceiling and water all
over them. While the more civilized side of your brain is thinking, “You know,
maybe you shouldn’t have been the first one out the door.” What’s even more
annoying is that whenever you leave the art room for safety and go into the
back of the auditorium and someone goes, “Oh my gosh guys, look at the ceiling,
you can see water stains. They’re spreading. It’s definitely going to cave in
on us.” First off, in that type of situation, you are already so paranoid that
if someone drew cracks on the wall with a sharpie and said that water was going
to come bursting out anytime now, you’d think it was the end of the world. Second
of all, if the ceiling is going to become a water spout, don’t take pictures of
it. There were people taking photographs of the ceiling where the supposed
watermarks were. I wonder how they’ll feel when they realize that they just
took pictures of a dirty, old ceiling. I guess that some people have an
automatic flight or Instagram reaction. Then it is in the cafeteria and
everyone is like, “Oh my gosh. This is crazy! We are all going to die. Why
can’t we go home?” People just get to me.
In conclusion, I think I should get
out more often so that maybe I’ll get used to these things that annoy me so
that I can begin to like the human race and make real friends instead of having
to have imaginary ones.
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