People Who Make Me Want to Move to Canada

Everyone knows that I love America. This is not a secret.

I have an American flag windbreaker that I’m pretty sure Betsy Ross knit in the 1800’s. I have never felt more excitedly panicked then when Jason Lezak came from behind and pulled out a gold medal in the 2008 Olympics. (The excitement was because of Jason Lezak’s win, and the panic was because I was pretty sure that Michael Phelp’s swimsuit was going to slide right off on national TV).  I once kissed the ground at US Customs after a long trip to South Africa because I was so glad to be home. That backfired, though, because they thought I was on drugs.  Needing some real patriotism? Let’s talk about the fact that I once completely stopped all communication with an Australian guy because he said some really awful things about America and I was just NOT HAVING THAT. Have you heard their accents? My god. I made a huge sacrifice for my country.

There is no place in the world like America. Sure, we have our problems, but they’re small potatoes (well for America, probably french fries) compared to some of the problems that other countries are facing. But occasionally, I come across something that makes me just want to flee the country. Not because of anything that America or George Washington or Kylie Jenner did, but because of the first-class weirdness of some of the people that I come across.

Now let me be really transparent about something: I am a ridiculous woman. And this list is beyond ridiculous. These are not things that are actual world-threatening things like, I don’t know, terrorism, McDonald’s pink meat, or Donald Trump’s presidency bid. These are things that I believe plague most of us, and I am the one brave enough to speak out on it.

So here it is. I bring to you the list of things so deplorable, so ridiculous, so maddening that I truly want to throw myself into the Detroit river and float to Canada, distancing myself from these situations as much as possible. (Or I should say, as far as my bank account allows. So…Windsor.).

Overzealous Parking Lot Attendants

Listen, I know that parking lot attendants have a tough role sometimes. I know that their job can be difficult because, with the exception of me, people are awful drivers. I get it. I’m not forgetting that as I’m driving through your parking lot, Wanda. But Wanda, girlfriend, you need to relax. You are not directing traffic for Jesus’s second coming. You are standing in the circle drive at my nieces’ school. You have blown your whistle at me 42 times. I do not speak whistle. You’re using a million hand signals and I’m not up to bat. What do you want from me, Wanda? I’m sorry that my nieces took longer than their allotted 3 seconds each to get out of the car. No, I didn’t read the memo sent to parents about circle-drive procedures because a) I’m not a mom and b) I don’t care. It’s time to hang up with the whistle and enjoy a nice dry Red because you have lost your brain.

Overly Spiritual Usernamers

I am on Twitter, Facebook, the Gram, all of that stuff, and some of you guys have just got a little too much of the Holy Spirit or something. If it takes me more than 10 seconds to figure out what your username is, then you need to change it. WayUpIFeelBlessedByTheMostHighKing777, I’m talking to you. I mean, it’s just ridiculous. Like is that your username or are you trying to speak in tongues, because either way, nobody has an interpretation. Stop.

The Speaker Phone Divas

Y’all, there is nothing that makes me want to throw myself into Lake Saint Clair more than the special souls who walk around the store talking to people on speaker phone. How lazy are you that you can’t lift your phone 2 more inches to your ear and talk like a normal person? I once was fortunate enough to be sitting next to a woman at an airport who was having what should have been an incredibly private conversation with her man friend on speaker phone before she was escorted away by somebody. I honestly don’t even know if they were police or just someone who was tired of hearing “What are you wearing” said over and over and over. She was so drunk that she couldn’t understand what he was saying back. At one point I think I just answered. “Jeans.”

Museum Grocery Shoppers

I am not one of those girls that love to shop, but I take my grocery shopping really seriously. Because of that, it’s hard for me when someone messes with my grocery shopping time. There are some people at grocery stores who think that they are at a special tortilla chip exhibit at the Detroit Institute or Arts or something, because they are looking at each bag, touching the outside, stepping back, looking around, taking pictures, taking selfies, thinking, smiling, closing their eyes, being one with the ambience…  Meanwhile, I’ve been over here waiting to get by you for so long that I’ve grown my own corn and made my own chips. Here homie, take these. Yes, they’re organic.

Customer Service Representatives in India

So a few months ago, I missed a call about fraudulent charges on my card. I panicked like anyone would, mainly because I was afraid that I was going to have to talk to a representative and explain that “No, that isn’t fraud. Yes, I did eat at Chipotle 16 times this week.” The shame, y’all. Anyway, I called back and was ready to defend my lunch choices when I am transferred to Farush in Mumbai. First of all, it amazes me that y’all can transfer me to India in 4.8 seconds but can’t refund my money from an Amazon return in less than 87 business days. Secondly, do I look like I have a Ph.D.? Because I only speak English, and I don’t know what Farush is speaking, but it’s not English. It’s nothing against you, Big F. It’s more that when my bank is named BANK OF AMERICA, I’m expecting to speak with someone in America. I don’t need you to hail from America, but I need you to pronounce your r’s so that we can communicate. I love other cultures and people groups. I love chicken curry. I love Stephen Curry. I love everything Curry. But not when I’m defending my overeating abilities at Chipotle. So in an extreme moment of frustration, I did once ask to speak with someone who spoke better English. And then I felt horrible. But only like 43% horrible. Also, I got chicken curry that night. #cravings

The Weird-Naming Parent

This one doesn’t even make me mad as much as I just don’t get it. In an age where it’s cool to name your kids after types of types of trees and otherwise inanimate objects, I am finding names like “Walnut Pomegranate Quinoa Smith” showing up on the program for my niece’s spring recital program. Is this a menu? Am I ordering a salad? Am I a vegan? If I’m this confused, imagine how poor Walnut must be feeling. I am all for unique names, but not at the expense of my children having rocks thrown at them at recess. (Do kids still have recess? Or is that somehow politically incorrect because Walnut has a peanut allergy or something? Please inform).

So am I mad at Wanda or annoyed with ChildofTheMostHigh879? Nah. Do I feel bad for ruining what could have been a great friendship with Farush. A little bit. Am I frustrated if you spend 5 hours at Kroger in the cereal aisle? Not really. Cereal is a tough choice, I get it.

But please, don’t name your child Walnut.

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