We’re Not Gonna Take It…

The list of things we won’t tolerate, post cancer, is growing quite impressive. So far, it includes: 

·       People who hurt or abuse animals, children, or anything smaller or weaker than they. Of course, we all agree on this one.

·       People who cannot make up their minds in the line at Starbucks, or Noah’s Bagles.  People, it’s just coffee and a bagel for pity’s sake.  If you are dithering between a mocha frappy lite with soy milk versus a non-fat frozen hazelnut latte for more than a split second, then you have serious issues and more to the point, you are cutting into my valuable time.  One doesn’t generally see this kind of behavior at airports, nobody has time, the plane is about to leave so just give me a coffee black and one of those muffin-y things, point, point, tap, tap.  It’s much easier to work at Starbucks at the airport.  

·       Being put on hold, nothing new about that.

·       Having to push 87 prompt buttons to get to a real live voice who then? Puts you on hold.

·       People who don’t know how to travel, there is an entire population of people out there who should be banned from traveling

.  They include:

        o      Imbeciles who grab your seat from behind and pull your hair.  Over and over again.

        o      People who snore really loudly while napping on planes.  You know who you are, you can travel but you don’t get to nap.

        o      Men who refuse to help their wives with screaming babies.  They can always be found seven rows behind their hapless spouses, pretending they don’t know their wive or their sobbing children, snoring.

        o      Women who refuse to walk their screaming, squirming toddlers on 16 hour flights to Asia.  I know who you all are.  You are all the same, vacant eyed women who wordlessly turn your kids over to your moms the second the plane lands and you get through customs.  And you all say nothing when grandma starts cooing about how good the baby is being.  Of course the baby is being good; the baby screamed for 16 solid hours.  He/She is all screamed out.  Plus, Grandma’s in the house.  I hate each and every one of you.

        o      Adults who get mad when I won’t let their kid play with my expensive, company-owned lap top.  And those who are clearly peeved when I refuse to baby sit or entertain junior.  Last time I looked, my services were out of your price range.

        o      People who allow their kids to kick the back of my seat for 16 solid hours and get angry when I ask them to stop their child.  I am not a punching bag, you selfish sots.  Restrain your child or I will have the pilot drop you off over the Atlantic.

        o      Blue-haired travelers (this is by special request for my buddy Chris at work).  BHT’s take forever to unload everything metal during security checks and are not in a hurry.  Please refer back to my blog entitled Family Fly Day.  People, people, Chris is in sales and by definition that means he does not generally waste his time or anybody else’s time.  So, if you are visiting your Uncle Myron in Boca Raton, for the love of God, do it on Family Fly Day.  Please.

·       People who brutalize produce.  Specifically, those grocery terrorists who husk the corn at the grocery stores, and throw it back in the pile.  This results in mass corn cob hysteria. You can only get away with this if you are 85, female, widowed, Italian and living in Italy, people.  Everywhere else, you must refrain from stripping the corn naked.  I’m sick of the silk sticking to my shoes and I refuse to buy emotionally disturbed corn.

·       People who attend hockey games without knowing, or abiding by, The Rules.  These include:

        o      People who stand up during the action.  This constitutes a huge violation in hockey etiquette and in some parts of Canada, can get you killed or worse; exiled to Manitoba in the winter.

        o      People who kick your seat or let their kids do it.  My BFF and I have taken Baby CJ to a number of hockey games and we do now allow her to bother anyone but us. 

        o      Drunks.  For pity’s sake NHL hockey is not played in a remote village in Russia so do not get to slug back six vodka-laced highballs, stagger to your seat, and hit the person in front of you with a half open bottle of beer, thinking nothing will come of it.  This actually happened to me at a Sharks game.  Thankfully, it was pre-Baby CJ but I actually suffered a concussion from the blow.  I now know how hockey players feel.

        o      Men who didn’t grow up with hockey but still act like they are experts.  If you don’t know the game, then you don’t know the game.  Thus, you do not get to lean forward, tap me on the shoulder every two minutes and lecture me on icing (when it was really an offside call, you moron).  First, I don’t need your input and second, well, you’re an idiot.   This is generally when my BFF and I indulge in our favorite little hockey prank which basically goes this way:

        §       We tell the intrusive idiot who is pestering us that we don’t need to know about the game because we actually played in the 1980 Olympics on the USA Women’s Team.  Yes, the person bugging us is told he is in the presence of two former Olympic women’s ice hockey champions.  I played defense and my BFF was star goalie.  We wax poetic about the brawls I had with one female Finnish defense player and how I received several very controversial game penalties but how we still took the gold.

        §       We really enjoy this prank because the man in our sites always nods vigorously and a few even have said they remember us.  We have even been asked for our autographs, seriously.  Mind you, women’s hockey did not become an Olympic sport until 1998.  I often wish more moronic twits would do this to us because at the end of the game, we really enjoy telling the guy who acted like he knew all about hockey this little fact.  History folks, it’s really important.

·       People who obviously have a very high opinion of themselves when it is clearly not warranted.  Better to be realistic, we all have flaws.

·       Celebrities.  We who have survived cancer have had enough drama and crisis and attention to last a lifetime.  We are not impressed by the time, attention and sheer CRAP drama-drenched celebrities create by acting out in public and then trying to undo their stupidity by going to rehab.  Entertainers and artists of their craft are an entirely different animal.  Definition:  Meryl Streep is an entertainer, an artist at her craft.  Lindsay Lohan is a celebrity.  Get the difference?

·       Reality television.  Just when you thought television programming could sink no lower, along came reality TV with strange antics on remote islands and uncouth people with spray tans, huge hair and talon-like nails from New Jersey and paling around with somebody whose name starts with a K and who doesn’t seem to have any particular talent or reason for being…we cancer survivors just don’t GET IT.  And to top it off, the networks, both cable and mainstream, just keep on doing this.  Oh sure, there is the occasional quirky show that’s interesting such as Ice Road Truckers, but they are few and far between.  Honestly, what some bleached out, liposuctioned housewife in New York City is doing between manicures and martinis does not interest me in the least.  And I don’t believe that any bachelor or bachelorette play acting at dating has entertainment value.  Contest-related shows such as DWTS, Project Runway or Top Chef are different.  They can be fun because like a sport, you get to root for your favorite team or person.  Sure there is all sorts of trumped up and badly acted drama but at least there is fashion or food or a modestly done fandango at the end of it.  I’m just not sure what purpose reality television people serve.

·       The DMV.  Need I say more?  This place is still around by the way and occasionally, when you cannot deal with them on line, you are still forced to physically go in to some dank and dirty location and take a number though they claim you can make an appointment too.  We cancer survivors don’t have time to loiter around the DMV.  At least that’s how I see it. (I will do a separate blog on how to get out of jury duty; one of the few perks of being a cancer survivor).

·       People who complain about things that they cannot tolerate any longer. 

Thank goodness that’s not us.