Pet Peeve

If I had a pet, I'd like to call him Peeve. Is that odd?

An actual conversation I had with two friends this weekend:

Friend 1: Do you know what time the lights go on at Rockefeller Center?
Me: I guess when the sun sets.
Friend 2: And when does the sun set?

pause.

Me: When the lights go on.

See, that's comedy. What is NOT comedy is when jerks at work spend more time telling me how I should do MY job then they do on thinking about how they should be doing THEIRS. Really, nothing makes me mad (I didn't get mad at the creepy dude who tried to show me a photo of what our kids would look like). But being condescended to by someone who in all likelyhood doesn't even know how to do her own LAUNDRY...aggh! But it's all good because at the end of the day, I get to go home, rant to you, write screenplays and listen to music. And Ms. I have Nothing Better To Do with My Life Than Complain (wait...is that me? Since now I'm complaining??) has to go home and face herself.

Okay I got it. I need to shut up and not worry about this lady. Because a) who cares and b) in the grand scheme of things, this is not important. Baking cookies and writing ARE and I better close here and go DO those things. And stop typing words unneccesarily in all caps. Talk about a pet peeve.

And that ladies and gentlemen is what we call in the comedy world, a recall.

Oh, a big hello to my new reader from GERMANY! Hello Paul!! I'm officially global!!