my careless contagion

I wrote this post a long time ago and never finished it because it didn't seem right to post something lighthearted when the world had seemingly gone mad. I figured I would get it off my plate now. It is incomplete but may trigger a few smiles. Apparently, I have a lot of pet peeves. So many, in fact, I could not fit all of them in one post. Herein I reprise my role as the Lovable Curmudgeon, which is a much better role than the Obvious Jerk, the role for which I am known worldwide. Without further ado, I present what you've all been waiting for — part two of Joshua's pet peeves!  My old-man forgetfulness. I'm sure you've seen some of these pet peeves before. This is why you're seeing them again.  People who say they have no pet peeves but are clearly pissed off all the time. Just fess up. You hate everyone and everything. See? Feels good. Keep doing it. No, don't. Stop. You're scaring everyone.  Sick kid. Nothing worse than a sick kid. I w...

Yes. I got a message from a devoted fan of my blog to write about my pet peeves. So, thanks, I will! (That's a joke for the editor; he'll think it's funny) I'm actually incredibly easygoing (unless I'm hungry), so not much rattles me. These are more fun than anything else. And it's safe to say this blog needs some levity. I wrote this post a while ago. I hope it makes someone laugh. Poo-Pourri. The commercials are terrible. The actual product is even worse. Thank you, because I now associate the lovely smells of lavender and vanilla with all y'alls taking shits. And all y'alls seem to shit a lot. Or that stuff you spray stays in the air a lot longer than any shit smell possibly could.  When someone asks you what you think, then they cut you off and tell you what they think. Or what you should think. Why don't you just tell me what you think and we'll skip the pretense of caring what I think.   Weird stuff my son's mom make...