5 Simple Things That Annoy You More Than They Should

    May 23, 2013 at 9:48 am

    We, as humans, have short fuses. And let’s face it: most of our genius inventions are total shit and are constantly failing to work properly. This combination tends to lead to a dangerous level of annoyance that wedges itself right in between complacency and complete aggravational eruption. You purse your lips, clench your jaw, and silently retreat to the bathroom to punch yourself in the face 30 times before returning to your cubicle. These are your everyday grievances that prod and poke at you; the most absurd and infinitesimal of First World Problems that manage to drive you into a murderous rage anyway. [By Zach Golden]

    Automatic Faucets

    It’s been 13 years since we arrived at the “future” that is the 21st century. You’d think our technological aspirations could have perfected the automatic faucet by now. Unfortunately, most times I take a dump in a public bathroom and therefore am forced by the laws of society to wash my hands, it feels like innovation has truly let us down. The frustrating tango that one must embark upon in order to coax the water out of the automatic faucet is a constant annoyance.

    Am I holding my hands too close to the censor? Too high? Too low? When the water finally does come out, why for only one split second, which consequently only washes one of my hands, leaving the other one doused in the pink slime they call soap? Even if you do happen to come across one of the automatic faucets that supplies a steady, functioning flow, there’s a 70 percent chance you’re about to get scalded by the water…and that sucks too. American Standard, go fuck yourself.

    Delayed Remote Control Response Time (DRCRT)

    It's making this guy inconsolably miserable

    Delayed Remote Control Response Time, known as DRCRT, is the syndrome that your television exhibits when it is not responding as quickly and/or accurately as it should to the requests you make via your remote control. It’s that two-second delay that occurs when pressing the buttons, basically.

    I’m repeatedly pressing 704. 704. 704. I know I’m doing it right; I am watching my fingers hit the buttons. Yet somehow, I’m ending up on 70, then 47, at the horrifying Robin Byrd Show. This sluggish pace can lead to remote control throwing, important home run missing, and uncontrollable yelling.

    Unplugging my cable boxing, waiting ten seconds, and plugging it back in is the remedial equivalent to putting a band-aid on Cancer…I’m looking at you, Time Warner Cable.

    Arm Rest Covers

    These should really just be called “things you constantly need to pick up off of the floor”. They serve no purpose.

    The Soap Situation

    Somewhat irrelevant but very creepy.

    This next issue is really nobody’s fault, but that doesn’t make it any less annoying. You get in the shower, realize that your bar of soap has shrunk to about the size of your big toenail, and have to decide whether you are going to jump out of the shower, naked and wet, soaking everything in the vicinity to grab a new bar, or convince yourself that this flake of soap will be sufficient for sterilizing your entire body, which it definitely will not. This happens about once a month if you’re a generally clean person, once every three months if you’re a smelly basement dweller, and once a year if other people should be ensconced in the protection of Hazmat suites while in your presence.

    Warning: After you’ve completed the Mecca to that cabinet under your sink to grab the boxed Lever, be careful stepping back out of that shower, because the tiled swamp that you’ve turned your bathroom into is ripe for paralyzing neck injuries!

    Skipping Netflix DVD’s

    The era of the DVD is coming to a end, but until literally everything that was ever released theatrically, televised, or screened in a posh coffee shop by your college buddies is available to instantly stream, I will continue to utilize DVD’s. And nothing quite makes me suicidal like a Netflix DVD that skips when you try to watch it.

    Beasts of a Southern Wild has finally arrived in your mailbox, against all the odds the U.S. Postal Service stacks against you these days. But there it is, in its shoddy and completely unsubstantial paper packaging. The first twenty minutes are pristine, but then it begins: The continuous yet erratic skipping that makes any film impossible to watch without gouging your own eyes out. You take out the DVD to examine its flip side, and just as you suspected, its metallic layer more closely resembles a the delicate wrists of an emo teen than a functioning DVD.

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