4. That bitch at the gym that always steals the copies of US Weekly AND People Magazine AND that one copy of National Geographic with the really cool looking tiger on the front that I really want to read during my workout. She cleverly avoids the Economist and Architectural Digest. Also known as "the Pilferer."
3. That guy who drives the 1992 green Honda Accord that pulls out in front of me every morning at the stoplight at the corner of 46th and Willamette. I usually have the green light, we make eye contact, he knows I'm going 50 miles an hour, but still pulls out in front, makes me slow to 38, and keeps it at that speed despite the 40 mph speed limit. Otherwise heard within the confines of my car as, "YOU FUCKING DAFFY BASTARD!!! NOT AGAIN!!!"
2. My next door neighbors, who not only allow their cat to wander free on our property and take a weekly dump on my front door stoop, but persist in installing some sort of hardwood flooring conveniently when I'm at home convalescing from a hangover. And obviously manipulation of hardwoods requires the use of a sledgehammer, an industrial saw of some sort, and usually a nail gun that employs super-loud hydraulic pneumatics or whatever. "We just want to get out of it what we put into it." I think I saw her working at Rhythm and Blooms the other day...
1. The airpot at work. Because, well, it doesn't always have coffee in it. And when that happens, I silently mouth a big, huge, "GGGGGGGGGGGOOOOOOOOOOODDDDDDDDDDDdDDDD DDDDDDDDDAAAAAAAMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM MIIIIIIIIIIIIIITTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTttt!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!