things we can all agree are terrible

We’re all weird weirdos floating through this thing called life, but there are certain things that unite us. Things we can all agree are 100% terrible. Here are just a few of them.

things we can all agree are terrible on

Nature thought it was being clever, making this inedible clot of earth a beautiful rosy hue. It’s sexy as hell. Aesthetically pleasing as fuck. Until you chomp into one and all your mouth and tongue and face sensors clang with displeasure. Radishes are like if freshly ground pepper and a super crunchy Ikea headboard married in a small civil ceremony in Brooklyn. Terrible and terrifying, radishes are unwelcome in anything. Leave them for the rabbits.

People eating Chipotle on Public Transportation
None of us ride public transportation because it’s delightful. We choose it over driving for honorable and sensible reasons. We don’t want to age prematurely in start-stop rush hour traffic and we don’t want insane car insurance bills. We like to deposit ourselves on a moving device that delivers us to our next destination without having to awkwardly merge, or bellow to ourselves “Do you follow a religion that HATES TURN SIGNALS?” 

We love that our commute can be made with our eyes closed. 

We accept that when throngs of us are smooshed into small spaces there will be disorder. There will be body odor smog, there will be crying children with ungodly amounts of facial snot, there will be teenagers conversing about topics that make you feel so very fucking old. For myself, these are acceptable hazards. What I have trouble with is the individuals who forget the rules of public transport eating. They’re simple and two-fold for anyone who is confused.

Can I Eat This on the Train?
a) It requires utensils – no.
b) It’s so fragrant that a dog would be at your feet, gently dog-whimpering for a scrap – fuck no.

Any food eaten in a small, warm, confined space needs to be soundless and odourless. As most of us are miles and hours away from our next meal, smelling your godless burrito makes us want to gently strangle you with your headphone cords.

Hands are liars. After you crank the handle and stick your hand into the stream of water rushing into the tub to test the temperature, you confidently think “oooh, that’s perfect.”
So you find the perfect book, light the expensive candles, dim the lights and step happily into water set to “boil human flesh rapidly.” 

You frantically deny it and lower the other foot in and stand there frozen in mild shock, doing the “if I can bear it for just 5 seconds my body will adjust and I will survive,” challenge, but it just gets crazy hotter and your legs are on fire, so you have to delicately leap out. 

Now you have lower legs that look like you’re wearing blood socks, and you have to turn the light on, run cold water into the tub and hunch over the tub naked to do that thing where you help the cold water blend in with the fire water in big circular arm motions, like preparing the perfect batter for your butt. 

Once it’s tolerable you slowly sink in with shuddering arms. Your legs are propped up in the too-small tub so you can see all the hair on your knees, and then you last, like, four minutes because, Jesus Christ, it’s muggy in here and now you’re so tired and have to go pee, and “knock knock” someone has to poop. Fuck.

Eating at a New Friend’s House
It always sounds like a good idea. “Sure, yeah, we’re free on Saturday night!”

Then the panic sets in. 

Because other people eat differently. 

Other people are VERY liberal with jalapenos and pepper. Other people drown their guacamole in lime juice. Other well-meaning people assure you “it’s gluten free” then tell you what’s in it after you’ve inhaled half of it and one ingredient is most certainly NOT gluten free and you dejectedly head to the bathroom to get your barf on. 

Other people put those knife-sharp shards of dried rosemary on their veggies. Other people take a beautiful dish and liberally sprinkle the devil’s ashes (aka parsley) on top, negating all the deliciousness. Other people mean well but their entire menu is terrifying and weird and “Hey, about Saturday? Let’s go out instead! No dishes!”


I use my time on transit to jot down universal terrible truths on my phone. If there’s one you want to add, let me know in the comments. Because readers who read and comment are universally considered my favourite people.