August 10: Single-File Obsession

Call it strange. Call it annoying. However you want to label it, one thing's for sure. I love standing directly behind people in lines. I've been yelled at, cursed at, and even spit at for my unusual obsession. I've tried lying on couches while "experts' listen to my admissions of behavior but I continue to come back to the same natural desires. For me, there isn't any better experience than standing toes to heals with a complete stranger. I think I was in kindergarten the first time I discovered my unique habit.

It was the second week of school when my mom became tired of packing my lunch. She had a long day and simply couldn't muster the energy to spread Jiffy on a piece of bread and follow it with a slathering of Vons-brand grape jelly. Instead of washing a few baby carrots and putting them into a plastic baggie, she opened her purse and pulled out a crisp dollar bill and an old tarnished quarter. She put the currency in the outermost pocket of my backpack before tucking me in and giving me instructions on how to go to the cafeteria and give the lady with the hairnet my money.

Suffice it to say, I was excited. Don't get me wrong. I love a paper sack of PB and J, carrots, celery, and reduced-fat Wheat Thins just as much as the next kid. Not only was I intrigued by the idea of getting a hot meal, but the next day was Friday - pizza day. Pizza day was such a success the previous week and all of my new friends raved about how great it was. I could hardly sleep.

Lunch time couldn't come fast enough. My fingers couldn't paint the blank pieces of construction paper without stopping as I dreamed about that piping hot rectangle of starchy, dry, flavorless piece of "pizza." Morning recess was a bore and seemed to take even longer than the reciting of the Pledge of Allegiance.

Finally, I was escorted with the rest of "hot lunch purchasers" to the cafeteria and this is where it happened. Sarah with her tangled hair and Brave Little Toaster t-shirt was so excited for the pizza that she literally stood on the heals of my tennis shoes. I wasn't mad, but her enthusiasm drove me to imitation and I stood on the heals of Alex's sandals.

The rest, they say, is history. Ever since, no matter where I am, I have to get as close to the person in front of me as I can. Disneyland lines, grocery store lines, water park lines. Even if the line isn't moving, I can't help but to nudge in as close as I can. I don't know what it is. I love breathing down their necks. I want my hot breath to make its way past the forest of hairs and and spread across their scalps.

Do I know that they're aware of my presence? Absolutely I do. I don't care. They'll step forward and I'm right there with them. I like to pile my groceries over the wand-like divider that they set up on the conveyor belt. If it's just a small counter and I see the attendant hand over the change, it's my turn. End of story. I push my way forward forcing them to hastily grab their bags and shove their money into their pockets.

People don't like it. In fact, they hate it. I've been called every name imaginable. I've been pushed back and ignored. The idea of getting to that disgusting piece of pizza has stuck with me and made a permanent home deep within the confines of my brain. If there's a line, I have to be at the front of it and I won't let anyone stand in my way.

July 30: Don't Interrupt Me!

It was an extremely hot and humid day and for reasons that I can't quite come up with, I decided it would be a great idea to go for a long bike ride. My definition of a long bike ride, however, tends to be slightly different than most people's (not you, Darren). I started riding and I knew it was the wrong activity right from the beginning of the ride. Sweat immediately began forming on my brow as I peddled down the relatively flat street...

I use Smart Balance buttery spread instead of traditional butter. Why? Because my mom bought it while I was growing up and it's a "healthy substitute" for butter. I don't know the nutritional facts of it and I don't know if I'm defeating its purpose by using more to get any flavor.

...Where was I? Anyway, I was peddling down a flat street and I was already sweating profusely. My helmet was doing nothing to soak up the salty discharge and my eyebrows were already saturated with it. This left nowhere for it to travel but into my eyes. Have you ever had sweat drain into your eyes? It's not comfortable. It stings like...

Why is U the only letter of the alphabet that gets the pleasure of being doubled? It's like, whoever's job it was to come up with twenty-six letters for the English language ran out of ideas toward the end. "This will be S and this will be T. Then U, V, and um, let's see. Let's just double U and and erase the top of part of the middle line; W. Perfect.

...hell! Now not only did I have to worry about passing cars and children playing on the sidewalk, but I had to do it blind! I could barely keep my eyes open long enough to straighten out my bike's course before the perspiration forced me to clench them closed again. The weird thing is that instead of pulling over and wiping my eyes, I just kept riding. Why didn't I think about...

This is pretty irritating isn't it? When people ask me what my biggest pet peeves are, I'm always strapped for ideas. There are so many things that bother and annoy me, but I don't want to scare the person off. I inevitably say something dumb like, "When a vending machine thinks my crisp dollar is too crumpled."

Being interrupted is by far my biggest pet peeve. I hate it and it can instantly change my mood. I've been sent home from work for flipping out on another employee just for interrupting a conversation I was having. It went something like this:

I was explaining to another employee how we were going to break down the table arrangements after a large party when this third guy comes charging at us with his arms flailing in the air. He said something along the lines of, "Hey hey hey, Brandon." I responded with "HEY HEY HEY, JASON! CAN'T YOU SEE I'M TALKING WITH SOMEONE?!" The manager then said, "Brandon get out of here. Go home."

I was livid. Up until the time Jason interrupted me I was in a relatively good mood. There's just something about being forced to cease talking and slamming the breaks on my train of thought that really irks me. When I tell stories to people and they interrupt me with questions regarding the details of the story, I go ballistic. Sometimes I respond by stopping and starring and asking them if they're ready for me to continue and sometimes, if they interrupt me too much, I'll stop the story completely and simply walk away. This last one is my favorite method because it really lets them know how irritated I am with their behavior plus they don't get the end of the story. They'll beg me to continue and they promise they won't interrupt anymore, but I rarely give in.

The most ironic aspect of this whole pet peeve of mine is that I am forced to interrupt people every day for my job. I can't simply approach a table and wait for them to finish talking or I would be waiting there all night. "Are you guys doing alright?" Boom. Done. Next table. I sometimes wonder if I would lose it if a server did that to me, but I have no other choice.

For me, there isn't anything worse than being interrupted. It's not that I want to hear the sound of my own voice, but having to halt my train of thought because of someone else's inconsideration really ticks me off.

July 27: Persistent Pessimism

Most of my posts are dark and pessimistic views on every day occurrences. Am I apologetic about that? Well, when I first realized the direction my entries had taken, I was a little embarrassed. After all, no one likes a "Debbie Downer" or someone that always has something negative to say. If you don't have something nice to say, don't say anything at all. Remember that one? But as the days went by and the posts piled up, I began to take pride in my pessimistic views.

I stopped worrying about how my writing was being perceived because I was having more fun on my high horse. It's just more enjoyable to go off on a freak or a situation that I've encountered. Finding the positives in common events is boring and doesn't offer any original thought, but to nag on ridiculous topics is just plain funny.

Being pessimistic in person is a little exhausting, however. A face-to-face conversation is harder to avoid for the person conversing with the pessimist. You can't just walk away in the middle of the interaction. If you don't like my view on the way a traffic light is positioned or my hatred toward movie goers, you can close your browser's window. You don't have to sit there and take it like you might if we were talking in person.

So yeah, 365 Days of Brandon has its dark moments. I don't have a very optimistic view on the homeless, growing old, tip jars, or fat and lazy people. But they sure are funny, aren't they?

July 11: Parking in Rear

Is there anything more annoying than not being able to find a parking spot? Yes. Is there anything more annoying than finding a parking spot in a crowded lot only to find that the car in the adjacent spot can't stay in the lines? Yes. Is there anything more annoying than going out to your car in a crowded parking lot only to find that some lunatic decided to park directly behind you when you're clearly parked right in front of a pole? No.

How a person could possibly be so dumb is beyond me. It would be one thing if a group of us all parked in one lot, left, and returned together. But to visit a large restaurant that seats over four hundred people and park behind a complete stranger is mind boggling.

Did this person do this because I drive a truck and he or she assumed I would be able to shift in to four-wheel drive and climb over the pole? Did they do it because they saw the SD on my rear window and they were die-hard Dodgers fans? Maybe it was a guest that I served the previous week in which I gave lousy service and they happened to see me drive home that night. Yes. It must have been the latter.

I think that people get so angry when driving around a crowded lot that they'll do anything for a spot. That's proven every year at every summer street fair. People are willing to pay twenty dollars to be able to turn their vehicles off. Schools, private homes and businesses, and parks make a killing from their lots and driveways. Maybe this person made two or three laps around the huge parking lot and decided that they weren't going to take a fourth. The next open space they saw was where they were going to park their Nissan SUV. That space just happened to be directly behind my truck.

Thankfully, I was able to maneuver my truck around the pole and over a curb without hitting any other vehicles to get out. It didn't take away the frustration, though, had accrued upon witnessing the lack of intelligence this Nissan driver had so generously displayed. Just when I didn't think there could be anything more annoying than finding that my truck had been blocked in, it happened again.

July 2: For Your Convenience

You'll never guess what I saw yesterday while at the grocery store. Go ahead. Guess! Give up? I was walking past the dairy wall at the back of the store looking for eggs. In front of the milk display I witnessed an obese woman sitting in an electric shopping cart. You know the carts I'm talking about, don't you? Twist the handlebar forward and the cart crawls at a snail's pace. Twist the handle back and you roll in reverse. On the front of the cart is a little basket to place things in.

What's wrong with that, you ask. A handicapped woman needing a little assistance with her chores. So what? I'll tell you what's wrong with it. I would be willing to bet that this woman isn't handicapped at all. What's her disability? Not being able to say no to candy?

Look, maybe she is handicapped and this post is just an extremely ignorant and insensitive assumption, but my theory is that this lady is too lazy to push a cart so she rides one instead. You know that little basket I was telling you about? Notice how small it is. These carts are for people who can't walk but need to buy a few groceries. They're not for people who eat super-sized Big Mac meals for appetizers. If these carts were intended for our jolly friends, I don't think they would be electric; they would be diesel-powered. They would have two or three baskets instead of the one and I guarantee the little buggies would have more than the lone wheel at the front, but I digress.

The whale of this tale sat there with her basket overflowing before slamming the handlebar into gear. The cart groaned under the beast's weight and made a wide turn away from the milk and straight into the aisle's end display of fun-sized chips. Her front-right bumper clipped the display, but the handlebar didn't let up. The cart kept crawling, the bumper kept pulling/pushing, and the professionally shined floor was instantly covered with salty snack packs.

As the people passed and stared, I did the same. I grabbed my eggs and made my way to the checkouts. If I thought this lady was truly disabled, I might have helped, but because I was so confident of her refusal to walk I left her sitting there with a dumbfounded look on her porky face.

I didn't follow her to her car to see if she had the blue placard and I didn't ask her to stand up. For all I know, she could have been handicapped but this post wouldn't have been nearly as entertaining if she was, now would it?