christinefriar:

but I don’t think I’ve ever been compelled to call something a ‘pet peeve’ before.

Like, first of all, I don’t have a pet anything.

It sounds so lecherous, like a perverted Angela Lansbury smoking a cigarette with an extender summoning you to her boudoir. “Come here, pet.”

Furthermore, peeve.

Peeve.

Peeve.

How Ned Flanders can you get without slitting your own wrists?

Peeve?

You know what really peeves me off? The things on this list.

And, if I had to choose one that pissed me off the most, a pet peeve if you will, it would be…

Sorry, what was that? I just projectile vomited and shat blood.

Hope there’s wireless in hell.

hell

only has

dial up.