The Doors sang it best

Because people are strange. God damn it, what’s wrong with people?? This, this is not a rhetorical question. I’m really quite aggravated (spelled with an ‘a’ and not an ‘i’) at the moment.

In school, we have study time. STUDY TIME IS NOT A TIME FOR JABBERING. And I don’t give a rat’s ass but no one is so important that they need a bazillion headpieces and phones so that they can “always be reached”. Fucking Bush wasn’t reachable when the Twin Towers and the Pentagon were being nailed; What makes you think you’re SO important that you need to be on the phone during STUDY TIME?

STUDY TIME = QUIET TIME

I was trying to STUDY during STUDY TIME, only I couldn’t because Mr.I’m Much More Important Than You And I Know That Because I’m On The Mobile Six Out Of The Seven Hours We’re In School was on his mobile. We were seated in the QUIET STUDY ROOM, with all of the QUIET STUDIOUS PEOPLE who were trying to STUDY, when Mr.IMMITYAIKTBIOTMSOOTSHWIS was JABBERING on his mobile.

And you know what made it worse? He was fucking fake whispering, because STUDIOUS people = dirty people who don’t clean the wax out of their ears and so Mr. Cleverosity decided that fake whispering would amount to his ugly fake whisper slipping and dying inside of our waxy dirty ear canals before it had a chance to reach our eardrums where it would vibrate and a thing called HEARING would occur.

But I can tell you that phone call WASN’T SO IMPORTANT that it couldn’t wait. Because shit like “yeah, it’s study time right now so I was bored” ISN’T IMPORTANT, YOU MORON.

I was so – and obviously am still – perturbed that my heart started racing and I had to leave the room. My friend A was there, killing himself laughing because he thought my completely irrational reaction was just that funny. If A weren’t cute, I would have maybe drop kicked him for calling my reaction “adorable”. Adorable? WTF?

Anyway. The Fake Whisperer I couldn’t see at first because he was seated behind a small Chinese wall. But I was pretty sure I knew who it was, because I already dislike the guy. And yeah: I dislike him because of his face and his demeanor and the fact the he uses way too much gel in his hair and wears turtlenecks in summer. That’s not cool. That beatnik meets Antonio Banderas meets Asshole look doesn’t = cool.

Wanna know how I knew who he was? Apart from smelling the hair gel across the room, I knew it could only be the same guy who always sits outside and TALKS ON HIS RAZOR MOBILE. Every. Single. Time. I see him. He’s on. That Razor. And today, it took everything out of me not to haul my arse over to him, rip the mobile out of his hand, rip the ear piece out of his head and scream into his over-gelled hair that HE WAS ANNOYING THE ENTIRE FUCKING STUDY ROOM. And the fact that he’s always on the phone makes him pretentious. THAT’S MY JUDGMENT CALL TO MAKE. Don’t like it? Maybe today’s not the time to tell me, because I obviously am not in the proper mood for a disagreement right now.

As I was leaving the no-longer QUIET study room, I whipped around the corner of the Chinese wall and stared at him for a good seven seconds. We made eye contact and I shot daggers at him, with my eyes. I know he totally got it because he slowed down his speech pattern for those seven seconds while I was shooting daggers at him with my eyes. Then I whipped around again, nodded at A and left the room.

And there were two other ‘strange’ people in my path today. Look: I have a migraine today, and that means that I’m already a little edgy and tired. Now, for the record, when you’re with someone who explicitly tells you that they have a migraine and just need quiet, then you really should think about shutting the fuck up. You don’t understand that? It means BEING QUIET. It means NOT TALKING. It means NOT TELLING THEM STORIES ABOUT YOUR LIFE. This person clucks, too, which is horrible. He clucks when he speaks: “When my wife had our *cluck* first kid *cluck*, I was so happy. Your eyes are rolling *cluck* back into your head Maha.”
“That’s because of the migraine I have. That I told you about.”
“Migraines *cluck* suck.”
“Yup.”
“So, I was telling *cluck* you about my first kid. *Cluck* *cluck* fuckity *cluck* *cluck* *cluck*.”

Which leads me to the third and final weirdo in my path this day. The guy who was seated next to me whispering to his computer screen. He scared me so much that I almost wet myself. I backed away from him and very nearly fell over the garbage can.

All this to say that at several different moments today, I wanted to drive my face into a desk or a computer screen.