Pet Peeves: October

1.  Plastic bubble packs.

I have packing and unpacking peeves at the top of my list this week, after getting my daughter off to college.  Opening bubble packs is not only difficult, it requires special tools like scissors, a large, sharp knife or perhaps a jackhammer.  This last plastic pack fought back, leaving me with a deep welt across my hand where it bit me, just as I thought I could reach in for the prize—a purple rubberized cell phone cover.  Can someone explain why we pack cell phone covers this way, but sell hatchets and chainsaws on easy to reach wall hooks in the garden department?

2.  Popcorn.

I don’t mean popcorn you eat, though I certainly have a pet peeve about those little kernels that don’t pop and tempt you to power-crunch through the bottom of the bowl.  (American Dental Association conspiracy?)  I am referring to the packing popcorn that is added to the top of your box, so that your shipped item only breaks on the bottom.  Count on these pre-programmed morsels to spring out of the opened package and roll directly beneath your couch.

3.  Urban Dictionary.

I suppose that it is a result of sending a child off to college, or maybe it is the result of reading her posts on Facebook, but changes in language seem to define generations, and therefore highlight my own rapidly advancing age.  Terms like brand new, catch my fade, thug and HPOA (Hot Piece of Ass) leave me feeling a bit dusty. Don’t get me wrong, I love the Urban Dictionary.  I just don’t love that I can’t use any of the terms in the Urban Dictionary without sounding like an idiot. 

4.  Groceries.

If the Urban Dictionary defines the cerebral, social side of aging, then my grocery store experiences define the physical signs of my deteriorating body.  It wasn’t long ago that young baggers would watch unconcerned as I struggled to load 60 pound bags of dog food into my trunk. Now, as I come through the checkout the young bagger looks at the boxes vegetable broth and then back to me again.  “Can I help you with your bags today Ma’am?” “Are you sure?”  “Really ma’am, it’s no problem.”  Back off Sonny, I was going to the gym before you were born.

5.  Shopping in JR. stores.

As long as we are on the subject of humiliating shopping experiences, I must address the sudden growth of “JR Stores.”  These are smallish spaces, filled with loud music, size 0 clerks and lots and lots of manic teens.  There are only 2 reasons for a person like me to be in a Jr. store.  The first one involves being a human wallet for my girls.  This reason is acceptable to all parties.  The other reason involves overage, overconfident women who are desperately or obliviously shopping for stylish clothing in all the wrong places. There are two terrible moments in any of these stores.  The first one is when you are separated from your daughters or sons and the clerks are studying you to assess for which reason you are there.  The second is when you actually see something really cute and wonder if it comes in a super grande size before you come to your senses.  I mean, please people, understand. I experienced my youthful fashion years in the 70s and 80s, the era of seriously ugly clothes.  I feel cheated!

Feeling cross?  Tell me I’m not alone.