Do You Know What Really Frosts My Balls?

From "It's the Little Things"
by Robert Earl Keen

"It's the little things, the little bitty things
Like the way that you remind me I've been growin' soft
It's the little things, the itty bitty things
It's the little things
That piss me off"

It seems like a good day to air it out since my little bit of acquired patience has expired and my "fed-up" internal thermometer reads 105 degrees. I have decided to write a Top Ten List of Things that Really Frost My Balls.

Things That Frost My Balls

10. No-call, Schmo-call. Press "2" to be removed from the list. Nothing seems to stop those incessant  solicitation phone calls from telemarketers. I hate the constant intrusions, especially from those who take forever to answer my "hello" and from those who speak broken English with indiscernible dialect.

9. It's like being in a real life Night of the Living Scuds at Walmart or Krogers walking among the skanky, unwashed, soiled-clothed masses who always seem to invade my personal space and finger the merchandise I'm considering buying. The Fugleys and Freaks need to employ soap and personal makeovers in the worst way. Could we install a "Too Dirty" alarm at the entrances to the stores that automatically ejects the culprits back into the parking lot?

8. I believe in prayer, and I believe we should ask God for His help in dire circumstances; however, when people beg others on Facebook to pray for their son's Little League team to clobber the opposition, to pray for the family to acquire enough money to buy a big-screen television, or to pray that the supermarket checkout lines are short, I'm not onboard. I think the Man has more important concerns other than supplying a person with convenience or simple satisfaction.

7. I understand that the vast majority of fast food and convenience store cashiers are employed in low-paying jobs, but when I pay my tab with my limited income, I expect a nice "Thank you" instead of an ungrateful "Here's your change" followed by cold silence. I would love to take these thankless employees back to the '60s when a dollar an hour or even less was the wage for hard labor. Get a college or tech degree if you are not happy; otherwise, say "Thank you" with a smile to every customer, no matter how much you hate your job.

6. My father was a long-time salesman and a member of the United Commercial Travelers who drove every day in his employment. One lesson he insisted I learn was that space between vehicles on the highway lessens the chance of a bad collision. I have tried to heed that advice since I was 16-years-old and received driving privileges. Now, increasingly, I get on a nice stretch of highway, set my cruise control on the speed limit, and approach someone on the highway I need to pass. I flip on my left turn signal, enter the passing lane, and that driver I am about to pass speeds up, leaving me abreast of him while another angry, speeding driver -- cussing, fingering, and fuming -- pulls his car within a few feet of my bumper to ride it without regard. In such situations, I figure (with my two recent speeding tickets), if I speed to pull ahead, I will surely get ticketed again. So, I say to the other drivers, "deal with it and get off my ass."

5. My wife goes on occasional rampages of rearranging things and putting them in new places where no human being with any sense of logical organization could possibly locate them. Then, I, the designated retired house husband, need something when she is gone, and I can't find it for the love of Peter, Paul, and Mary. Also, after these fits of hiding things, I notice a lot of my "stuff" is completely missing. Of course, I don't notice these strange disappearances until after trash pickup day, and by that time, my possessions are already in the city dump.

4. Why do others feel obligated to make me a part of their miserable situations without so much as trying to improve, moving ahead with self-initiative, and making significant changes in their lives? It seems to me more people today sit tight, expect the world to revolve around them, and genuinely enjoy dragging others into their personal plights. I'm sick of the incessant "poor little me" and "you owe me" attitudes.

3. As I visit and converse with friends and family, I notice all other heads pointed down while fingers peck at electronic wireless communication devices. The human-to-human conversation, no matter what the topic or the importance, is secondary to the need to multi-task on smart phones, computers, and iPads. I wonder if anyone has loaded an app that features voice recognition and automatically disables the device forcing the owner to engage in actual face-to-face conversation.

2. Those who subscribe to the "thug and biatch" attitudes and all their related theatrics push my limits of tolerance to the point of absurdity. When their persona screams "bad ass," it make me immediately wonder if all dignity and common respect have died. In the absence of skills for coping, these attack-mode amoebas use idiotic displays of brutality to register their need to dominate. It makes me wish that many would just "puff up," overinflate, and burst themselves into oblivion.

1. Large displays of body art, tats, tribal designs  -- permanent marks made on the skin by the process of pricking and ingraining indelible pigments -- these visible expressions of cultural and personal belief deface beautiful skin at an increasingly alarming rate. As artistic as they may seem to the person at the point in time they become etched into their epidermis, they also become highly prospective scrawls of future regret. Especially disturbing to me are lovely young ladies sporting highly visible tattoos that blanket their once-unmarked skin.