Something I Hate

I don't really have an overarching, "Things Ed O Hates" list. I have a grumpy streak, like everyone else, but I tend to see the positive in people and things... or I try to avoid those people and things. Maybe I just say all of this so I believe it, but I try to be that way.

Unfortunately, some things are unavoidable. At the risk of missing about 95.34% of the things that I hate, I came up with this list of ten items, normalized to the level of hatred (or, alternatively, disgust/revulsion/whatever), of the top item:

The one thing that I wanted to comment on is number five on the list: early-to-mid-20's guys.

I'm not saying all of them are jerks... I've got some friends who are early-to-mid-20's guys. For the most part, though? The less I say to them (and the less I hear them speak), the better. (And by "them" I mean early-to-mid-20's guys generally... not my friends.)

I was at a housewarming party on Sunday night. I had been invited by one of the two hostesses and wasn't that familiar with most of the people there. Part of the fun was determining who knew whom and who was hanging out with whom, and while most people in my place would have asked, but I was having fun observing and guessing.

The party was stuffed to the gills (at least at first) with hairstylists (I choose my housewarming parties carefully; I'm not purchasing tulips willy-nilly) but as the crowd thinned, it became both easier to contextualize the remaining people and more confusing regarding what I was seeing.

Confusing because there was trio of dudes who looked out of place. In their (yeah, you didn't see this coming) early-to-mid-20's, they were walking around the party, holding on to a pair of Ranier twelve packs.

This wasn't exactly a wine-and-cheese-only party, but I think they were the only ones who were drinking cheap bear from cans, and they were definitely the only ones who didn't want to put their beverages down for fear of someone else lifting them.

Which... OK. Fine. I don't want to fling stones. I was wearing black fingernail polish, for crying out loud. Live and let live. Etc.

But. They're early-to-mid-20's guys. They can't help but annoy me.

As the party continued to thin and I was settling into a chair with the hostess's dog in my lap and one of her friends engaging me in conversation, there was a mix-up involving drinks. It was not a big deal, but someone put their red cup o' booze down and someone else evidently started drinking it.

Like I said, no big deal. I think the confusion was cleared up within 30 seconds, in spite of unhelpful lines of investigation like this:

Person One: What were you drinking?
Person Two: It was in a red cup.

Of course, almost all of us were drinking from red cups. Except the dudes with the Raniers.

Dude with Rainer Number One (DWR#1): What? You had a red cup?!?
Everyone else at the party: ...
DWR#1: [leaning in towards the woman who'd lost her drink] A red cup!?!
Everyone else at the party: ...
DWR#1: [motioning at the large stack of red cups and the prevalence of them in the room] A RED CUP!?!

It was an odd thing, what happened next. No one cared about his mockery/joke/whatever it was, and after building up to some sort of crescendo with no response, he ... deflated.

He deflated and then he sulked.

A bit later, my friend's brother showed up. He's a nice guy who just happens to be shorter than me. And shorter than DWR#1, which provided the impetus for this delightful exchange:

Dude with Rainer Number One (DWR#1): Hey. Is that your brother?
My friend: Yes, it is.
DWR#1: So "short" runs in the family, huh?
My friend: That's it. One more and you have to get out of my house.
DWR#1: ...

There was no apology for being a dickhead, which ampliphied the dickheadedness.

Partially because of the presence of the early-to-mid-20's guys, and partly because of the fact that I didn't really know anyone there, I had sent out some feelers via txt to see what else was happening. One of the txts was to a friend at Ozzie's, to see how busy it was. Her response was that "People are here" ... which is far from a given on a Sunday night.

So, when the early-to-mid-20's guys decided to leave (or at least talk about leaving... the talking about leaving took about 45 minutes, and the leaving took significantly less time), they mentioned Ozzie's.

Me: Oh, Ozzie's?
DWR#1: Yeah.
Me: A friend told me there were people there tonight.
DWR#1: There usually are.
Me: Uh...
DWR#1: People like karaoke.

It was the sort of semi-drunken ignorant condescension that few humans outside of that gender and age range can pull off. It definitely cemented early-to-mid-20's guys on my "Things Ed O Hates" list... actually it might have pushed them past Keith Olbermann and into a dead heat with Scary Clowns.

Now that I think of it, though, my list might be a tad off. In spite of those guys, I had a good time at the party. If there were three scary clowns walking around, I am less sure I could say the same thing.