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"The Encyclopedia of Pet-Hates and Irritations"

I've never been the most 'happy-go-lucky' guy in the world. Indeed, since my mid teens (notably since I began to slowly integrate myself into the workforce) my opinion of life on earth has fallen consistently. In truth, it still continues to fall, every time I watch/read the news, something is announced that makes me either shake my head or makes my blood boil.

I've come to realise that I have almost no patience for other people's stupidity or lack of judgement, regardless of the fact that I'm fully prepared to acknowledge that I'm far from perfect myself. It was, however, probably only about 2 or three years ago that I was first labelled as 'cynical'. This was mainly because I had started to refuse to believe that anything could happen theway it was supposed to. Perhaps this is something to do with the company I work for, which certainly hasn't helped matters. You can't get anything simple done without wading through a swamp of suffocating red-tape, and even the most rudimentary changes require obscene lengths of time, and incur ridiculous costs. ase in hand being the recent "desk move" at work, where people were being shifted to sit closer to the rest of their teams. All you have to do is move a few PCs between desks. Cost quoted? £9,000. Que?

So basically, I have this terrible problem whereby I find my head in my hands several times a day as nothing ever goes right, or my predictions that something will go wrong are proved correct. It's often said that cynicism is a form of realism, because cynics are so often correct. I find it difficult to refute such a claim.

Perhaps I'm just a gloomy bar steward, though, as my negative approach to the world stretches far beyond a total and utter refusal to believe that people can do anything correctly. Indeed, I have a tendency to despise pretty much most things that people do. I'm the kind of person that gets angry walking through a crowd of people that happens to include "dawdlers". You know the sort, walk along at snail pace and randomly stop every now and then, particularly when you're walking behind them. I get angry watching things like "Most Haunted", because I know that every time one of the gibbering morons on screen screams "Muh! Something touched my arm!" there are two million people gasping in awe at the paranormal activity they have been blessed enough to witness. I get angry when I see shoddy, cheap products, not only because I think they are mostly disgraceful rip-offs that fall apart and fail to work, but also because I know that so many people are stupid anough to buy them anyway.

I get angry, irritated and cynical more times a day than the old myth regarding the number of times men are supposed to think about sex. So while 'ordinary' people are thinking about the blond that sits yay far from them at school/in the office, I'm thinking how repugnantly ignorant the vast majority of people littering the country allow themselves to be represented as being, regardless of whether or not they indeed are that stupid.

I hate watching the news, and indeed often don't bother, because all i see is idiots. I can't even bring myself to read the science and tech news areas on the BBc website anymore, as it seems to be over-run with Loughborough University timewasters somehow being funded to find out how to make the perfect cup of tea, what makes biscuits break in their packaging (!) and even the different shopping "tactics" employed by men and women (and also coming to completely the wrong conclusons given the evidence they found). Who cares? More to the point, who would pay to have someone funded through their PhD looking into such superfluous and moronic toss.

So, perhaps I'm just a moody, choleric misanthropist, hating everyone for not being as good as humanity should have been. Sneering at history's ignorance and mocking contemporary indecisive wastefulness while occasionally looking to a bleak future filled with broken promises and yet more utter folly. Or perhaps there is some basis to my outlook. As I say, I'm far too often proved right where I would be far happier being proved otherwise.

There is little I can personlly achieve to fight the growing trend of fatuous nonsense, and so I sit here slapping my head and shaking my fist, becoming more bitter and hateful by the day.

I woud write more, this anger must be vented to keep me stable, otherwise it will become depressing, as it has done in the past, and I will choke on the hopeless vision I have garnered from 24 very long years living among humans that, for the most part, are happy to see potential remain just that, and realise nothing. But I shall not write any more. I'm going to assume that most people reading this stopped reading it way back up there, and scrolled quickly down here to read my final words in this post. Those people will now read this, blush, scroll up again, read a little more before giving up and going on to read something else.

No?

Prove me wrong.

So long as you don't go 20 miles under! ; )

Only just - think that's the most frustrating thing. Thought everyone would be automatically breaking the limit from experience of friends but no! There's old duffers who evidently think it's 20 lower than the number on the white circle.

I go the legal limmit, of course ;)

LauraVee wrote:
> Do you go at 30 in a 60? That's my definition of slow. I'm not a girl
> racer - yet!

Heheh, I don't drive - yet =D
And it will be 30 in a 60! Maybe even 20mph..

Are ye driving yet?

Do you go at 30 in a 60? That's my definition of slow. I'm not a girl racer - yet!

LauraVee wrote:
> Just don't get me on to slow drivers.

You wouldn't like me as a driver then.. =D

Put it this way Englishbloke, they help me more than the effort it takes to flick your wrist, as it were.(!)
Just don't get me on to slow drivers.

You like indicators, don't you?

Nowt wrong with dancing - never said that! I for one love dancing, for want of a better word. it's just the orange dorks that spoil it. Bet they don't use indicators either.
I know, I know, I shouldn't go to those places but there doesn't seem to be much choice anymore. But that's another story....

Thats my quintessential problem.

I dance, but only when hammered, meaning I look like a t@at.....