The List of Dislikes

I’ve written a list. I love lists. I write lists for most things and have done since I was, like, an embryo. When we were little, Ingrid and I had a whole freaking A4 notebook with the sole purpose of containing our numerous and very random lists. Things we love. Things to do today. Things to do before we turn 20. Cool quotes. Shopping list. Our best mates. Desirable holiday destinations. List of boys who aren’t dicks, and so on. My favourite however, is The List of Dislikes. And since feeling particularly mischievous today, this evening has been spent upgrading an old classic. Here goes:

  • People who walk slowly. Somehow they are always in front of me. Often on a narrow pavement. I’m certain they are a specific breed of human beings. Fucking annoying.
  • Sambucca. Unless it’s on fire and has cinnamon sprinkles. Then the cool outweighs the gross.
  • People who claim they are good judges of character. Eh? I’ve heard it being said countless times, and always with a confident tone of voice, combined with a knowing nod used to evoke my admiration for this gift of a trait. Cringeworthy. Unless i know they’re right. Because they’re my friends. Or myself.
  • Going to bed early. Or people who go to bed early without a reason. Listen, if you want to seem like an old maid before your time, be my guest. But don’t come preaching to me about priorities and time management the next morning just because you were up five hours before me like some flipping birdie. What you did this morning, I did last night when you were sleeping!
  • People who think leggings are trousers. You know who you are. I light candles for people like you.
  • Highlights. I truly hate highlights. The last time I gave it a go, I realised my mistake at about this point…
  • I really enjoyed Thursdays being Wine Day. Which means I really dislike it when my much loved routine is being interrupted by work and bills.
  • I also dislike spelling mistakes. And the people responsible for them. Everybody knows that grammar is the difference between knowing your shit and knowing you’re shit.
  • When love hijacks people to make them believe they have found the love of their lives at the age of, like, 12. (Okay, maybe 21). In particularly bad cases they also decide to get married or something stupid like that. This is called idiocy and I give you all one year to snap out of it.
  • Fifty Shades of Grey. Talk about a pandemic. What an awfully written piece of rubbish. I will never get back the ten minutes of my life that I wasted on the first chapter of that book.
  • The fact that last week I said the following sentence: “I don’t wanna be home too late as I want time to blog.” Ingrid and I looked at each other and decided to pretend it didn’t happen. I have officially become of one them. The Bloggers.

I’ll upload photos of my outfit later. HAHA JOKE. The day that happens, report me for offensive content.