Tag Archives: The Oatmeal

vo·cif·er·ate  tr. & intr.v.vo·cif·er·at·ed, vo·cif·er·at·ing, vo·cif·er·ates

To utter (something) or cry out loudly and vehemently, especially in protest.

I was going to start right off affirming that I know everyone enjoys a good rant…but then I realized that I happen to really enjoy ranting, and ranting often; perhaps not all of y’all do.  For me, it might have something to do with constantly being told to be quiet as a child (I was passionate and precocious, so sue me), maybe it’s my unique way of railing against injustices of all kinds, but when all is said and done, I think I love it because it’s cathartic.  Having a good ol,’ down home, bile-extracting enema makes me feel better.

Now, there are many righteous things out there to get one’s dander up, but I’m not addressing socially conscious reasons here.  I’m talking about the Things That Piss You Off Royally.  The manias that, no matter how you try, you can’t let go until you tell someone, preferably uncensored and loudly.  It doesn’t have to be the perpetrator of said Thing (though that does add a perverse and wonderful pleasure to it).  I have plenty of friends who’ve lent their ears to my soap boxing, and I’m thankful for ’em.

I’ll get us started, shall I?  Okay.  I’m at Enter Retail Establishment Name here.  I’m at the far end of a rack of clothing.  Some chick will inevitably start looking on the same rack, two feet ahead of me, moving toward me in the opposite direction.  What the fuck?  Can your stegosaurus-sized intellect not see that in about ten seconds we’re going to meet in the middle?  Gad!  I’m a veritable magnet for these women.

Then there’s run-of-the-mill manners.  You know, I drink and cuss and a whole bunch of stuff that mortifies my mother, but I know my social manners and mind my p’s and q’s.  So just try to imagine my ire when I’m in line at the grocery store and someone pushes past without uttering a simple ‘pardon me.’  I like to steel my body sometimes (if it’s not a senior), so that when they attempt the shove-by, they hit a brick wall.  Even better is when they stand in my peripheral vision, snorting and pawing the ground with impatience, thinking that I should somehow psychically pick up that they’re waiting to pass by.  Well, screw it.  You can’t utter two little words, then my periphery does not register you.  And if they get irritable enough, and try the shove-by mentioned above, I will, in a clear and carrying voice to all within earshot, say, “If you’d said EXCUSE ME, I would have moved!”  I have no issues with embarrassing the fatuous.

Feet shufflers.  Gonna kill the feet shufflers.  A buddy of mind specified flip-flop wearers, but then I’ve always been more of a generalist.  A lot of the time it’s teenagers, oozing ennui as they are wont to do, but many times it’s just lazy-ass grown-ups who don’t care if they suck the life out of you and everyone else with their laggardly s-l-i-d-e CLOP, s-l-i-d-e CLOP.  Pick up your fucking feet, epsilon!

Clerks that can’t make change without a calculator.  Y’know, it’s basic math.  Learn it.  If the bill is $4.57, and I give you $10.07, you shouldn’t need three minutes and a piece of paper.  Kill me.

I could also easily do away with at least fifty percent of the parents who deliver their offspring to my kids’ (Catholic) school each morning.  These people live their lives as though there’s a secret and special page dedicated to them in the Biblical urtext that states “I-Shall-Park-Where-I-Please-Because-My-Issue-Has-Been-Chosen.”   Which roughly translates to mean that, while I’m jockeying for a spot, these half-wits put it in park wherever they damn well please, making a total clusterfuck of the parking lot.  Additionally, you have to practically sideswipe the other minivans in order to get out at the end of the day.  I was gonna make a sign that stated, “Thou Shalt Let Other Drivers In,” but I’ve already caused some waves at the school and it’d just be taken down by the custodian, anyway.  Gotta pick yer battles.

So.  There’s a few of mine, and lo and behold, I feel lighter just having written it all out.  Thanks for reading.  Send me some of yours, too, eh?  Just don’t ask me to give a lesson on their/there/they’re or it’s/its and so on.  I’ll insult too many of my friends.

(Psst – there’s a link to The Oatmeal article “10 Words You Need To Stop Misspelling” here – send it to the offenders!)