You Bitch!
23rd of June, 2017

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Rube

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Ignored

I hate being ignored more than just about anything. Anything besides the sound of fingernail clippers, that is. Not nail scissors, mind you, those I have no issue with. But nail clippers drive me right up the fucking wall. I literally can’t even be in the house when someone is knips knips knipsing away at their nails. When I hear that noise, it feels like my spine is trying to slither out my back and down my leg, looking for a hole to hide in until the coast is clear. But I digress.

I really try to listen when people are talking to me. If someone walks up to my desk at work, I’ll acknowledge their presence; and if I’m busy or talking on the phone, I’ll make awkward head tilts, hand gestures, and otherwise contort myself just to make sure they understand that I see them there, waiting to talk to me. If I know there’s an SMS or iMessage waiting on my response, it weighs on me like a ton of bricks. I have no peace until I read it, respond to it, and get it off my back.

Maybe my hatred of being ignored is simply jealousy. Perhaps I’m affronted by the fact that other people can knowingly have my message sitting there in their inbox, them not giving a moment’s consideration to something that would drive me to distraction.

If I walk up to someone who is on the phone, and they don’t so much as look in my direction, maybe it’s the admiration that I feel for their sense of utter detachment that makes me want to strangle them where they sit, preferably with their own telephone cord, should there be one. This is a downside to the ubiquity of wireless technologies: the absence of ready-made garrotes in everyday situations

So yeah, being ignored and using nail-clippers. Oh, and blowing your nose loudly in public. Fuck people, they do vex me so.

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