League Math

If you have to hit on/flirt with/make eyes at a woman, make sure a) she’s available, b) she wants you to flirt with her, and c) she is well within your league. The first two should be stupidly obvious. I don’t feel I need to elaborate.

However, when it comes to c, there’s something you may not know. …Now, get ready. I’m about to reveal an uncomfortable truth. Hope you’re sitting down.

When an unattractive man (let’s say a 2) hits on an attractive woman (9), she gets upset. She’s not upset because a guy hit on her. She’s mad because a 2 hit on her. (Are you with me so far?) Clearly, a 2 shouldn’t bother hitting on a 7, let alone a 9. (What would be the point? That’s far out of his league!) In this example, in her mind, the best case scenario is that this 2 has a stretch goal of bagging a 5. And if the 2 thinks the 9 is a 5, he has just dealt a huge blow to her self-esteem.

League math. It’s a real thing.

This is also one of the reasons why the overwhelming majority (87%, according to a survey I just made up) of sexual harassment cases are brought against ugly dudes. Of course, more attractive men probably don’t have to try as hard as their less attractive counterparts… But really, ugly dudes thinking they have a shot with attractive women? It’s insulting, counterintuitive antiscience.

Gourmet Gore

If you have to post a picture (of anything, but we’ll just talk about food here) with something that sounds like a captionbrag, please just be honest. Be honest with us… and, perhaps most importantly, be honest with yourself.

You aren’t fooling anyone… Lightly smoked ranch alfredo caresses delicate strands of angelhair pasta means you dumped the leftover bbq and ranch sauces from your chicken McNuggets on top of some ramen noodles.

Be honest. Greenish glop and brownish paste mingle with dribbly white goo in an ironed tortilla surrounding overcooked rice, cheeselike product, and something resembling meat. You’re obviously talking about the grilled stuft burrito from our good friends at Taco Bell. See the difference? It’s effective, direct, and not misleading.

Sold in Spite of You

If you have to talk about something your business offers, don’t discuss it as if it’s something you own or really have anything to do with besides hocking it in a store, in a restaurant, or on television. I literally just watched a meteorologist say on tv, “I’ve got temps in the 60s coming to you next week.” Sorry, lady who looks very uncomfortable in her dress and is wearing way too much makeup, YOU don’t make the weather, you don’t BRING it to us, and (fun fact that’s beside the point, but it bears mentioning…) YOU’RE JUST GUESSING WHAT’S GOING TO HAPPEN.

It’s like when you go to a restaurant and the waiter says, “I’ve got two soups today: a cream of mushroom and also a roasted chrysanthemum with puréed pine bark and broiled frog kidney.” Sorry, Edward, but unless you’re ALSO the chef or are otherwise the originator of the dishes, you do not “have” them if you did not MAKE them. The restaurant has them. Chef Ronaldo in the kitchen “has” them.

Also, when the clueless little douche in the electronics store says, “I have a special promotion with [insert wireless carrier name here] for unlimited texting,” I just want to throatpunch him. Think he’ll be able to give the next customer the hard sell when his windpipe has fused with his spine?

Note that I have no problem sharing in the ownership, as Billy does have a stake (whether it be commission or simply being employed at the store) in the transaction. He can say “we,” “us,” and “our.” Examples:

a) We offer a phone by Samsung.
b) Our service plan covers battery replacement.
…and even…
c) I think you’ll enjoy our nitrogen-injected dielectric cables. (Billy is allowed to have an opinion, ridiculous as it might be.)

If you’re selling fake Rolexes out of your trench coat while standing in front of the Statue of Liberty, feel free to tell me that you’ve got a deal on a faux Gucci. I’ll accept that it’s YOUR deal and not that of your employer (is that like a “watch pimp” or something?).

Don’t Be a CC:wad

If you have to send a condescending/rude/not nice email to a coworker in another department, think twice before you cc: the coworker’s boss. You might find yourself on the receiving end of a scalding reply from your coworker’s boss–with YOUR manager ON THE TO: LINE.

It’s common courtesy and business etiquette here, folks, and this is a pretty easy way to affix a huge red target on your own back.

If, on the other hand, you’re NOT a complete wad, and you want to write something nice/complimentary/un-wadlike to someone and copy his/her boss, do so with my blessing.

Confabulating in the Can

If you have to take your phone into a public restroom, could you just not answer it while you’re in there? And don’t MAKE phone calls, either. You can go into a stall and TEXT ALL DAY if you want to, but don’t have a verbal conversation with your cousin Julia about what appetizer she’s bringing to the poker game Friday night.

Should you be the idiot that tries to test me on this, rest assured that I will try to figure out what types of sounds I can force my body to make on command. Also, I will flush as many toilets as possible for the duration of your phone call.

If you get upset and leave the bathroom without washing your hands, I will knock you down by any means I deem reasonable and cover you with the contents of a bottle of hand sanitizer.

I’m not a fan of speaking in public restrooms anyway, as I don’t want to overhear your conversation with your BFF (omg ❤ ❤ forevs!) about any of your bodily functions. How is it possible that you can't keep it to yourself until you get outside?!

In closing, don't be offended, ladies, when I don't say hello to you in the bathroom. If I make eye contact, I'll give you the obligatory head nod, but let's save the gabbing for outside the indoor latrine.

Runbrags, Dietbrags, and Other Ways to Make People Hate You

If you have to run (exercise, work out, lift weights), could you just shut up about it? I don’t care if you ran 10 miles, 20 miles, or 26 miles… and I don’t care that you beat your best time or that you ran an 8 minute mile or a 5 minute mile. Ugh. Runbrags are the worst. And this business of the 13.1 and 26.2 bumper stickers… Please just stop. Just put a bumper sticker on your car that says “I’m annoying.” …or drive a Prius. Same thing.

Dietbrags aren’t that great, either: “OMG, I totes ate two lima beans and drank some green tea yesterday, and I think I only lost six pounds this week!”

Gymbrags: “I spent three hours at the gym today and got sweat all over my new Lululemon workout gear!”

Richbrags: “I totally think my housekeeper forgot to vacuum the study yesterday. My life is awful.”

We all hate you.

Preternatural Daybreak Imposition

If you have to say hello to me in the morning (note: not recommended before 9 AM), don’t do it while walking by my cubicle. It’s enough for me to recognize that someone has directed a greeting at me, but to have to try to figure out who breezed by my cube… well, that’s just too much. I have precious little energy to spare in the wee hours of the morning, and for you to unceremoniously demand that I devote scarce resources of mental energy to voice recognition based on a one-syllable greeting is simply ludicrous and terribly, well, rude.

Reply to THE WHOLE WORLD

If you have to “reply to all” via email, you’d better make 100% sure that you use it correctly. When I take over the world, the “reply to all” button will be disabled until a certification course is passed.

Here are some examples of when NOT to reply to all:

1) An email goes out to the whole firm (or a large distribution list), but it looks like it should have just gone to one person. Do NOT reply to all saying that it probably shouldn’t have come to you. Every person who gets your reply will think that you’re an idiot. And they will be correct.

2) You don’t recognize every single one of the email addresses on the to: and cc: lines. I guarantee that Chrissy’s old accountant doesn’t care that you won’t be attending the Pampered Chef party. As a matter of fact, after you’ve replied to all, the accountant won’t attend the party because she will assume that all of Chrissy’s friends are morons like you. And she’s a big spender… so you pretty much just robbed Chrissy of like $50 in commissions. Nice job.

3) If you’re replying with something sarcastic, mildly offensive, and/or self-promoting. That just won’t end well. Ever.

When can you reply to all? Here you go:

1) When you and your seven bestest friends are emailing about where you’ll be getting together this weekend. (And you’d totally group text, but stupid Maya doesn’t have an iPhone, so her replies go to everyone individually, and that’s just so infuriating…)

2) Group/team projects at work. It’s a good idea to keep everyone in the loop. In this case, more is better, and people can just delete what they don’t need.

The moral of the story: when in doubt, don’t. Just don’t… unless you want everyone to think you’re a moron, you want to write Chrissy a check for $50, and you never ever want to live it down.

Overexposed Oversharers

If you have to overshare every second of your entire life in social media (*ahem* Facebook *ahem*), know that some people do not care. Some of us have happily opted out of all that mess.

Not being on Facebook absolves a person of so much social responsibility. I don’t have to keep track of what’s going on in anyone’s lives unless they’ve gone out of their way to tell me verbally or via text/email. I don’t have to deal with “How could you not know we broke up/repainted the living room/flew to Mars over the weekend?! I posted it on Facebook!!”

Also:

1) I haven’t had to see grainy pictures of what’s going on in Brianna’s uterus.

2) I don’t have to be subjected to pictures of people’s nasty feet all summer. (See “Foot Selfies”)

3) I somehow manage to sleep every night without reading descriptions and seeing pictures of the drool puddle your pet (dog? cat? kid? spouse?) left in the hallway.

4) I don’t feel obligated to “like” anything… Not your selfies, not the idiotic picture you took of something you wrote on a lined piece of paper, and not your status update telling the world that you ran half a mile and now you think you’re some sort of an Olympic athlete.

5) Oh…and I don’t have to pretend to enjoy your poetry. (Is it a haiku? A limerick?)

In closing, folks, this doesn’t mean I don’t love my friends and family. I simply don’t want to know what type of body wash they use.

Derp Derp, Doctor! Derp!!!

If you have to see a medical doctor, the doctor’s staff should give you an examination. On paper. To see if you’re an idiot.

After a ridiculous 20 minutes (of my life I’ll never get back) of talking to my new (now old–I’m not going back to this douchebag) doctor, I found myself telling him my educational background and medical experience so he’d stop treating me like some backwoods hillard who had never heard of healthcare or medical treatment. Ugh.

It’s true that some people will go to a doctor, list symptoms, and wait for a medical mastermind to put the pieces together to come up with a diagnosis. (Your fingertip hurts, there’s blood, your skin seems to be open in a straight line… Hmm… PAPERCUT! Here’s a Band-Aid. That’ll be $250.)

Some other folks will type a few words about their stubbed toe into WebMD and only be able to come up with “cancer.” They go into hysterics and demand to be treated immediately.

Others of us, however, will have put symptoms together, done some online research, used some logic, and come up with a reasonable explanation of what could be wrong. We essentially just need a doctor to confirm our [quite reasonable] self-diagnosis in order to prescribe the treatment we’ve already figured out that we need. (“Hello, doctor. I have strep throat. Please confirm and then prescribe amoxicillin. I have no known contraindications.”)

This is one of the many things that’s so messed up about healthcare in this country. Treating intelligent people and morons the same way just bogs down the system.