I Am Irrationally Irked at Raisin Bran

The irk-age started early this morning. 

Well, it was actually closer to eleven, but that just sounds far less dramatic. What kind of story begins at eleven in the morning? Not one about which people usually want to read. 

Anyway.

Anyone who knows me well at all knows that I love cereal. 

No, really. 

You know that stupid game you play when you're bored out of your skull and hanging out with people you don't know that well, and someone says, "Hey, if you were trapped on a desert island and could only eat one food for the rest of your life, what would it be?"

I'll detour from my rant on Raisin Bran for just a moment here. Because this question deserves it.

     1. What genius coined the term desert island? Think about it. Deserted island? Sure.

     Uninhabited island? Sounds good. Desert island? Foolish. I bet the only reason this term is

     officially in use today is because some lint licker back down the road of life got mixed up 

     and too proud to ever correct himself. This misinformation then spread faster than glitter 

     finds its way into every crevice of your house the second after you open the bottle, and here

     we are. Stuck with a coined phrase that is a constant reminder of the stupidity of men and 

     women in large groups. 

     2. This is really just an over embellished way of asking what your favorite food is. Unless 

     you're one of those Boy Scouts/nerd/Bear Grylls fans that insists on answering with a food

     that would provide you with the most all around nutrition, in order to insure your survival 

     for the longest amount of time on this island where you have nothing to do, no one to talk 

     to, and no hope of ever getting off, blahblahblahblah. No one cares. Seriously. If you 

     choose to answer the deserted island food question in this manner, you are that annoying

     kid that people wish would talk less.

            A. Also, if we were picking foods that were the most useful and not the most delicious, 

           let's be real. I would pick GODZILLA SIZED FOIL WRAPPED CHIPOTLE BURRITOS. 

           They would then be seen by planes flying over head, and I would get off the island 

           altogether. Done.

Back to the topic in the title, if someone asked me the deserted island food question, I would most likely choose cereal. (See what I did there? I was intentionally broad in my answer, so I can have a variety of cereal on the island. You're starting to realize I've been asked this a lot, aren't you?) This is how much I love cereal.

I decided to have Raisin Bran for breakfast. I opened a new box. I'm continually disappointed when I open new boxes of Raisin Bran, because inevitably, all of the raisins are on the bottom, and only the bran is on the top. My favorite part of Raisin Bran is the raisins. Who buys Raisin Bran for the bran? Seriously? Shaking the box doesn't help. I still only get about five raisins in my bowl. Where are the two scoops they love to advertise on the box?

I could just start opening the boxes upside down, but I never have the mental capacity to remember that when I'm still recovering from the trauma of becoming conscious in the morning.

Dear Kellog's, 

I find the living situation of raisins to be quite unacceptable. Please distribute them more evenly throughout your box, to ensure not only clean, uncramped living conditions for them, but also happiness for myself.

Add some sass to your class,

Jenna

I Am Irrationally Irked at People Who Assume I Don't Know What They Are Saying Because They Aren't Speaking English

I had a garage sale last weekend. Many of those lucky men and women who came to purchase possessions I now deem worthless spoke Spanish as their first language. That is fine. That does not irk me. Spanish is as good a language as any. What bothers me is when people assume I have no idea what they are talking about when they speak said language.

Now, it's true, I don't speak Spanish. In high school, I opted to take French instead of Spanish. It just seemed so much more practical since I live in Southern California. In college, I decided to stick with that trend of practicality and take Biblical Hebrew. I know. My range of knowledge is pretty much the epitome of useful in the real world.

But really, when you combine knowledge of other languages, common sense, and tone, Spanish isn't too difficult to figure out.

Let's look at a couple of real life examples from this weekend, shall we?

Example One:

"How much?"

"Five dollars."

What was said to his wife: "Este es un buen precio y un muy buen negocio!"

What was said to me: "Too much. Three dollars?" 

No.

Example Two:

What was said to his friend while staring at me: "Ella es caliente!"

What was said to me: Nothing.

No está bien on so many levels. 

Add some sass to your class,

Jenna

I Am Irrationally Irked at Dental Hygienists

I went to the dentist today. 

I feel like I should preface what I'm about to say with the fact that my teeth are fantastic. I'm not being vain. I'm just reiterating what my dentist tells me every six months. So this isn't stemming from the frustration of getting my teeth dissed in a repressed memory from my childhood or a weird irrational fear of people touching my teeth. It's just annoying. Plain and simple.

You've been there. I know you have.

You're sitting in the chair, awkwardly tilted back so that you're not quite lying down, but you're also not sitting comfortably. Your dental hygienist rolls up next to you in her chair. She is a friendly woman. Somehow, even though you only see her twice a year, she remembers strange facts about your life, she talks about your family more than you do, and you're pretty sure she may have just referenced an inside joke that the two of you shared six months ago. Pretty sure, but not really sure, because even though her memory is spouting facts about you at the pace John Nash doodled on foggy windows, you are having trouble remembering if she even has kids. Did you talk about living in Arizona with her? Or was that with your bank teller? Who can keep these things straight?

At this point, one of two things can happen:

Option 1: She has her tools in hand, is about to start cleaning your teeth, but then SHAZAM! instead asks you a question, her tools still poised precariously over your mouth. You answer her normally, but you begin to realize that she doesn't look too pleased by your answer. Assuming you're not discussing how great sardines taste with a blueberry smoothie, and how you just had that power pack of a snack on your way over there, one could assume that she is displeased not by what you are saying, but by the very fact that you are saying it. Her whole demeanor would suggest that in her head, she is wondering why you are speaking instead of opening your mouth and letting her do her job.

OR

Option 2: She begins cleaning your teeth. While her hands and tools of dental joy are still in your mouth, she asks you a question about your life. 

Observe:

           "So how is Virginia?"

           "gurglegurglegrrrrrrrrrgurgle."

            What she thought I said: "It's great!"

            What I actually said: "It's great!"

            "What are you studying again?"

            "gurglegurgleeeeerernngdfaddfdgurgledouiurewbbgurgle."

            What she thought I said: "I'm double majoring in English and Religious Studies."

            What I actually said: "Can you really understand what people say when you ask them

             questions in this manner?"

            "Are you enjoying that?"

            "guuuuuurglelaaaaaagurrrrrrrrrrrrrrgle."

             What she thought I said: "I absolutely love it!"

             What I actually said: "Seriously. I could start rapping, and you would have no idea."

            "Is it a difficult program?"

            "gurglagurglagurglaaaaalalalalalagurgleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee."

             What she thought I said: "Well madam, it is actually not too shabby. Everything is

             quite interesting, so that makes it easier since I want to actually learn the material."

             What I actually said: "Luda! When I was 13, I had my first love. There was nobody

             that compared to my baby..."

In my lengthy musings on the dental industry with friends, acquaintances, and strangers, Option 2 seems to happen more often. 

But really, either way, I'm irked.

Add some sass to your cavity-free class,

Jenna

I Am Irrationally Irked at People Who State the Obvious

I like watches. I own a large one. Using logic, I can say that it is therefore not small. It could not even be deemed of average size. It is, without question, on the Yeti-esque side of time keeping devices.

I find it useful in situations when someone across a quiet room asks me for the time, I am about to get into a fight that involves throwing punches with wrists instead of fists, or when my wrist is farther than usual from my eyes.

But every time I want to wear it, I have to perform a cost benefit analysis in my head.

Because every time I wear it, this happens:

Comments like this are just unnecessary. If you are a stater-of-the-obvious, please, next time refrain. You like your hair brown, and I like my watches large. There's no need to bring it up all the time.

Add some sass to your class,

Jenna

I Am Irrationally Irked at Being Rational

"Don't get mad, get even."

"Don't get mad, get everything."

"Don't get mad, get busy."

"Don't get mad, get Glad."

I'm sick and tired of pretending I'm not mad. If you don't feel the same way, you should be ashamed of yourself.

I mean really, let's be honest.

I'm a fan of honesty.

You go through your day, and there are dozens of small events that really get your goat. You're denying it, I know. I've been there. So for argument's sake, I'll pretend I'm the only person to whom this happens. It's the line at the store, even if I'm not in a hurry. It's the perky girl checking my bags, who does nothing wrong except be seemingly more content in life than I am. It's the mother of the four toddlers that are making any sort of noise on a decibel level I can hear. It's the jack wagon who couldn't take the time to spit out his gum two feet to the left of where I am now standing on top of it.

They're rarely done to provoke me.

They're often preventable by some action on my part.

They're irrational things to be upset about.

And yet.

The rational thing to do is, of course, move on. Try not to acknowledge to yourself that anything is wrong. Keep things classy by keeping up appearances.

But you know what?

I am irrationally irked at being rational.

Here's to being honest with ourselves.

Add some sass to your class,

Jenna