Don't Be Cruel
Becoming Jane is this lovely forested movie about repressed romantic longing, a chocolate truffle box of a movie, and there was a baby gurgling at the back of the theater; not crying mind you, just that happy, cute baby gurgle that they do when they’re playing with Mom. Man, I just about killed Mom and that baby.
When did I become a mean person? When did I start forgetting that real babies are more important than pretend characters? When did I forget needing to get out of the house so badly that I brought the baby someplace I shouldn’t have and annoyed people?
People like me are my pet peeve. Grumpy people.
The people I absolutely hate (there it is, moms and dads, the “hate” word we don’t say) are the people who get mad at babies crying on airplanes. Where do they think we come from? How do they think we got started? When did we get so exclusive as individuals that we no longer have responsibility for the rest of the human race?
There was an article about the notoriety of a woman whose dog pooped on the subway. Apparently, there was much public outrage about it in the papers. It was pretty awful. But I felt so sorry for that woman. She made a mistake; she shouldn’t have brought the dog without planning ahead. And I’m sure it was gross. But when did we start to differentiate ourselves into those who make mistakes and those who don’t? People act like they never ever do anything stupid. The article was about how sad it was that she was going to go down in history as the woman whose dog pooped on the subway. Hopefully her family stood by her, her husband didn’t leave and take the kids. For Pete’s sake! Is this the biggest problem anyone’s ever had?
Outrage at life’s little annoyances seems to be the trend lately. The United States is going to H-E-double-hockey-sticks because planes are late. A couple of weeks ago, a man on the plane next to me leered at me over his second beer and said he couldn’t believe air travel anymore: “Isn’t this great? Can you believe this?” because we were going to land 15 minutes late. Clearly he was important enough to warrant A-One care.
We all seem to be the center of the universe lately.
My absolute pet peeve is Drama Drivers. Whatever happened to Defensive Driving? My dad carefully explained to me on the first day I got my license that it was pretty much going to be my own fault if I got hit by another car. If I stayed far enough away, if I paid attention, kept my eyes opened, and assumed that the next person was going to make a mistake at some point, then I would probably be okay ninety percent of the time. Of course, there were still horses pulling carts then and my dad never lived in Utah or had a cell phone. But let’s face it, he was right about most situations. The highway, surprise, surprise, is a public place, owned by the worthy and unworthy alike. We skilful, NACAR approved commuters are not the only people allowed to drive. And, surprise, surprise, all of us who live are going to be old and slow someday, and will need others to CUT THEM A LITTLE SLACK!
But people who yell because someone cuts them off are following too close or going too fast. And that’s that.
Somewhere between People magazine and J-Lo we’ve all gotten a Princess Diana complex. We’ve decided that we should somehow be taken care of by the rules. That the laws of society should somehow protect us from the ordinary slings and arrows.
Can you imagine what our pioneer ancestors would have thought of us silly little weenies when the snow was ten feet deep and the wagons hadn’t come to help?
Can you imagine them saying: “WHAT??! Where’s the Diet Coke? You haven’t brought Diet Coke? I NEED a Diet Coke? I can’t drink Pepsi!”
“Honestly, this is the last time I ride in a wagon with people who don’t bathe! And the cattle, the lowing and pooping. And I need hand sanitizer before I even touch this bread!”
What a great Primary story that would have been.
When did I become a mean person? When did I start forgetting that real babies are more important than pretend characters? When did I forget needing to get out of the house so badly that I brought the baby someplace I shouldn’t have and annoyed people?
People like me are my pet peeve. Grumpy people.
The people I absolutely hate (there it is, moms and dads, the “hate” word we don’t say) are the people who get mad at babies crying on airplanes. Where do they think we come from? How do they think we got started? When did we get so exclusive as individuals that we no longer have responsibility for the rest of the human race?
There was an article about the notoriety of a woman whose dog pooped on the subway. Apparently, there was much public outrage about it in the papers. It was pretty awful. But I felt so sorry for that woman. She made a mistake; she shouldn’t have brought the dog without planning ahead. And I’m sure it was gross. But when did we start to differentiate ourselves into those who make mistakes and those who don’t? People act like they never ever do anything stupid. The article was about how sad it was that she was going to go down in history as the woman whose dog pooped on the subway. Hopefully her family stood by her, her husband didn’t leave and take the kids. For Pete’s sake! Is this the biggest problem anyone’s ever had?
Outrage at life’s little annoyances seems to be the trend lately. The United States is going to H-E-double-hockey-sticks because planes are late. A couple of weeks ago, a man on the plane next to me leered at me over his second beer and said he couldn’t believe air travel anymore: “Isn’t this great? Can you believe this?” because we were going to land 15 minutes late. Clearly he was important enough to warrant A-One care.
We all seem to be the center of the universe lately.
My absolute pet peeve is Drama Drivers. Whatever happened to Defensive Driving? My dad carefully explained to me on the first day I got my license that it was pretty much going to be my own fault if I got hit by another car. If I stayed far enough away, if I paid attention, kept my eyes opened, and assumed that the next person was going to make a mistake at some point, then I would probably be okay ninety percent of the time. Of course, there were still horses pulling carts then and my dad never lived in Utah or had a cell phone. But let’s face it, he was right about most situations. The highway, surprise, surprise, is a public place, owned by the worthy and unworthy alike. We skilful, NACAR approved commuters are not the only people allowed to drive. And, surprise, surprise, all of us who live are going to be old and slow someday, and will need others to CUT THEM A LITTLE SLACK!
But people who yell because someone cuts them off are following too close or going too fast. And that’s that.
Somewhere between People magazine and J-Lo we’ve all gotten a Princess Diana complex. We’ve decided that we should somehow be taken care of by the rules. That the laws of society should somehow protect us from the ordinary slings and arrows.
Can you imagine what our pioneer ancestors would have thought of us silly little weenies when the snow was ten feet deep and the wagons hadn’t come to help?
Can you imagine them saying: “WHAT??! Where’s the Diet Coke? You haven’t brought Diet Coke? I NEED a Diet Coke? I can’t drink Pepsi!”
“Honestly, this is the last time I ride in a wagon with people who don’t bathe! And the cattle, the lowing and pooping. And I need hand sanitizer before I even touch this bread!”
What a great Primary story that would have been.
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