back off, mr. roboto

perhaps it's pms....perhaps it's frustration over being unable to locate the bag of caramel hershey's kisses i cleverly hid from SO awhile back.....but i'm a little cranky and here's who i feel like blaming this evening:

~people who can't seem to pronounce the word "jaguar".
i've run into this particular problem here in south carolina, more than anywhere else i have ever lived. even after six years of residing here, i am still stumped as to how "jaguar" somehow comes out of folks' mouths as if it were spelled "jagwire". every time i hear it, i am tempted to ask the offender to pronounce "guano" for me.

~styx. i simply cannot find it in my heart to forgive them for "mr. roboto".
i heard that song- and not even the whole song, but just a verse of it- earlier today, and it had been stuck ever since. i am firmly convinced that "mr. roboto" could be used to effectively break down prisoners. forget the chinese water torture....forget any of the other 345 forms of torture our fearless leader wants to allow- hearing "domo arigato, mr. roboto" over and over and over again could even get my sweet, innocent cheyenne (after the city, not the tribe) grandma to admit to running over prize poodles and harboring bin laden in her basement.

~telemarketers/other annoying phone callers
for once and for all, i am happy with my phone service and i'm not voting for your candidate. on second thought, if your phone service will automatically block political phone calls.........

~incompetent mickey d's employees who can't seem to get my order right
don't you people know who i am? i own 88 shares of stock in your company...unless there's been a recent split, in which case i'm up to...uh....carry the one......176. therefore, i should be considered important enough to deserve the salad dressing i ordered (lite italian, because i dig the extra pepper) and the buffalo wing sauce i ordered to go with my nuggets. (no, barbeque sauce is not the same thing.)