[Leigh Anne is the driving force behind Midlife Mediocrity.]
- Sex Rehab: Seriously. How can you be addicted to sex? Everyone likes sex. It should be one of the four food groups. It’s part of a healthy diet! But if you can’t stop having sex…and you don’t care who you’re having it with…you’re not an addict. You’re a whore.
- Skinny people who talk about how much they eat: Good for you, asshole. I know you’re skinny. I know you eat a lot. Now shut the hell up before I bitch slap you. My pimp hand is strong and you’ll never see it coming.
- Morning radio: While I’m in a Shut the Hell Up mood, WTF is up with morning radio? I listen to the radio to hear *music*. You know, songs with lyrics and a catchy beat. When I’m driving to work, I really don’t want to hear some douche-nozzle making sophomoric prank calls and talking about his hammertoe over Usher belting “Yeah”. Is D.J. an abbreviation for Douchy Jackass? Just. Stop. Talking. If you were even remotely talented you’d be on TV. Or maybe you’re just ugly.
- Daytime television: I’d rather go to work with a migraine, hemorrhoids, *and* the Swine Flu than stay home and watch this mindless, soul-killing schlock. After 75 years of television you still can’t find anything better than Nash Bridges and Cheaters to broadcast on weekdays? You made a huge step in the right direction when you stopped broadcasting CHiPs. Time to target Three’s Company. I’ll even let you keep Judge Judy if you’re willing to kick Divorce Court to the curb. You can do it, Daytime TV. Be the change!
- “Healthy” actresses and singers incessantly flaunting their size: I love the new trend of shapely stars. J.Lo and Beyonce have got it goin’ on! You have curves and you look great. Now move along. I *really* don’t need you shaking your ass in my direction at every opportunity. Seeing the junk in your trunk is putting me in a funk. Kindly tuck in your ta-tas and cover up your lady bits. More than 50 percent of the population in America can see a naked lady anytime we want. We have our very own vaginas and we don’t need to see yours. If you want to appeal to the demographic who wants to see your naughty parts, I suggest you pick up an application at the Cheetah or Scores.
- People Who Abuse Business Jargon: I’m being completely “above-board” when I tell you that the only thing I’d like to “drill down” into is your skull so I can “red flag” all the useless verbiage by “COB” today. It’s “mission critical” that we “ramp up” and “move things forward” to eliminate this jargon in an “impactful” way. I’m not “sandbagging” you. I’ll be the “pacesetter” and try to stay “on point” so we don’t suffer any “scope creep”. Just give me a minute to be “intentional” and make a “WAG” on the best way to “take the knock”. Seriously people. Do they teach this stuff in “B-School”? [FYI: TIWTPITF covered bizspeak last year.]
- My Wedding: I don’t know about the rest of you ladies, but my wedding and reception were four barely remembered hours of my life that I’m not even sure I enjoyed. Who were all those people? I was tired, cranky and by the end of the day I had been manhandled by so many near strangers that I might as well have been the starting center for the Steelers. Jeff and I have enjoyed many spectacular days together. This wasn’t one of them. I’m pretty sure the whole wedding industry is a nefarious plot to separate unsuspecting women (and their mothers) from their money. And it works. I would have preferred to elope, but my mom said everyone would think I was pregnant so we spent an ungodly amount of money to prove that I wasn’t with child at the time of my marriage. Genius.
- Birthday cakes at work: Nothing says “I don’t care enough to put any thought into your birthday” like the office birthday cake. What are we, twelve years old? Are we gonna sing? I don’t know why this drives me apeshit. It just does. Can’t we all just go to lunch when someone has a birthday? What about leaving an hour early to have a drink? You know, like adults.
- Horror Movies: I’m not sure when it happened, but sometime between the premiere of Psycho and the most recent installment of the Saw franchise, the horror movie plotline disappeared. I understand that 15-year-old boys don’t have much of an attention span, but is it to much to ask for a wee bit of coherent dialogue between disembowelments and eviscerations? How about a little back story? Is every horror film director contractually obligated to make the same lame-ass movie over and over while changing only the camera angle through which we see the heroine’s sweaty nipples and the point in the film at which the only black character is brutally exterminated? (Note to African American actors: Horror films are probably not the genre in which you’re going to find fame). Horror movies used to be squirmy, squishy fun that followed an actual narrative. Now? Not so much. I’d like to see Wes Craven make a horror film that features the bloody, shriek-inducing massacre of the three-act structure. Truly frightening!