Maybe it’s just because I’m, oh, I don’t know, TESTY. Easily irritated. Generally willing to stick a fork in the arm of that guy that chews JUST THAT LOUDLY.
But seriously: why me? Why am I always the one stuck next to the guy who, during a formal presentation, proceeds to shovel not one, not two, but entire handfuls of sunflower seeds into his mouth, then spit them one by merciless one into his disgusting, irretrievable, not-even-satan-would-accept-such-garbage spit can. Thwuh-plunk. Thwuh-plunk. Phluuurp. For an hour, people. FOR AN HOUR. Shovel, spit, repeat.
God, I hope it’s just me. I can handle the knowledge that I am simply set in my anal ways, and use that knowledge to donate a little more generosity to the people that surround me. But then again, I’m no manner maven myself. Truly, it is only on the rarest of occasions, when the end-result of a blatant breech of social protocol is not only within ear-shot but also transcending the natural human boundary of Personal Space, I can get a little crazy. Rarely do I act on it. I swear.
What I do, instead, is write venomous little missives in the hopes that this particular offender will somehow stumble upon them, see himself reflected in their light, and change his ways forevermore for the betterment of all society, the end. Calculate the probabilities on that one.
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