Cell phones.
To me there is nothing more shallow/rude/shelfish/needy than a person whose ear is perpetually attached to thier cell phone. I recently spent a week with a person who fit this bill. I think she thought it made her "cool" to always be on the phone; like she had so many friends she couldn't wait until an appropriate time to speak with them. She would talk on the phone while riding in a car with us, therefore disabling any of us to converse (it's rude to talk while someone is on the phone!) and she didn't seem to care how loud she was being or that we all could care less about her conversation and that we might not want to hear it.
Recently, another acquaintance lost her cell phone at work. She didn't seem to know how she was going to continue living. She lamented over her lost numbers and felt that she would never be able to get in touch with people if she lost her phone. I might be crazy, but the people I care about know more than one way to reach me and I them.
The bottom line is that cell phones should not be an extention of oneself.

A few days ago I posted about my disdain for the band, U2. I promptly recieved a reply from "Anonymous" about how I was "something, something, something,... Get over yourself."
Well, I don't feel it neccessary to publish posts from people who choose to remain, "Anonymous" and who have nothing important to say. Fuck off. OR:
Try saying something smart. Maybe give me a new perspective on U2, although I'm pretty sure that's impossible since they are SO one dimensional.

I heart drama. I've been known to create it if there's none areound. This weekend was a triad of it.
St. Patricks day is a day begging for drama. When all you have to do is drink (as opposed to the other holiday's where drinking is also the main activity but you have distractors like a turkey or presents) there is bound to be a person or two who sets the drama ball a-rollin'. In this case it was not me.
I was minding my own business, freezing my ass off as only a California ass could in 50 degree weather, trying to catch a cab home from the St. P's celebration in downtown SD when this dude cut right in front of my friend and me. We said something to alert him of our rightful place at the front of the cab-hailing line, but this guy was not caring. After much back and forth between he and us I walked up to him and, very seriously, informed him that if there were not police on every corner around us I would stab him in the eye with the filthy heel of my shoe. Whithout skipping a beat he told me to fuck off. I searched his eyes for a shred of fear, of remorse at being such a prick, but he was empty. Visions of him wooing girls into loving him and then raping them in the ass because of his repressed homosexuality flashed before my eyes. I saw him killing kittens as a child and knew he was the sort of guy who would tie a girl up for days whilst savagely beating her in which case I thought it best to leave him be. As I crossed the street to search for another cab-hailing spot he yelled out, "get your fat ass out of here!" Not again. Be original.
Later that night, Laura and I were entertaining two gentlemen we met earlier at the festivities. Peter, the one who I was interested in, lives down the block from us and I found him entirely charming. His charm soon faded when I noticed that he and Laura were holding hands. I let it slide though because Laura was plastered and he might have been holding her hand because she grabbed it in her drunken fog - even though I had discussed my attraction to him with her several times during the course of the night. The whole night turned into a nightmare when I heard Laura invite him up to her apartment. Not five minutes later she came back and informed me that he was in her apartment and she didn't know why. I told her it was because she was a whore and had invited him up even though I was the one who liked him. I went to bed questioning the human race.
In the morning light I decided that although Laura had wronged me, I was better off forgiving her. She apologized, claimed she didn't know why she did it and we proceeded to drink Mimosas.
After we ran out of orange juice we went to the local Pub to see what we could get into. After a while a rowdy bunch rolled up in a double-decker bus straight outta Merry Ol'. These people were dressed like they loved Ireland: green, orange, and drunk. We wondered aloud how one could join such a ensemble. What better place to find out than a trip to the bathroom, right? Wrong.
I walked into the head and was not greated with smiles of the jolly-drunk, but scowls of bitchy girls. "You guys look like you're having fun. How does one go about getting on a tour such as yours?", said I. "You join at a place called AA!", remarked the anorexic girl whose hair was thinning and skin was sallow. "HA, HA! No, really, is it through a travel angency or what?", I asked. "I'm serious. You join through AA.", she quipped.
Instead of smacking her fucking face, I wrote it off to what must have been too much alcohol. She was, after all, 89lbs. Surely one beer could do a number on her. Oh, but God has a sick sense of humor. Whenever I behave well, mind my manners, turn the other cheek, he makes sure I feel the affects. The next time I went to the bathroom she was in there and can I just tell you that she looked me straight in the face and said, "Oh my God. It's like I bad omen that I've seen you twice." I said something about how she didn't even know me and how it was probably a good omen (still trying to be Christian about it and all). What I should have told her is that I could be her worst nightmare and that if she knew what was good for her she would shut her ugly, fucking face before I grabbed her by the hair and slammed her mouth against the counter and knocked out all of her front teeth.
I let it go though. I'd had enough drama for one weekend.

Who are you? Do I know you or are you a random reader?