Gripes

The internet is a great place for griping, and boy is there a lot to gripe about in this world. About the only thing it's impossible to gripe about is the word "gripe", which is a great word. I'm also a huge fan of the chiefly British "whinge". In fact, it's ironic how much of a proponent of those words I am considering my general opposition to the actions entailed therein. That said, I'll take a hypocritical leap and delve into a post about things that bother me.

But this isn't your typical moaning. Anyone can go on at length about the usual stuff like unrequited love or the economy, but I'm not going to do that in this blog (today). I'm talking about some real esoteric annoyances. And at least I'll offer some solutions.

Let's start off with stairs. With a typical rise between 7 and 7.5 inches, stairs are perfectly unsuited to my stride (which is admittedly large). Taking stairs one at a time feels wholly inefficient, but taking them in pairs feels laughably, Ichabod Crane exaggerated. I propose knocking off a modest one and one-quarter inches, thereby making single stairs ever so slightly shorter (and hence more accessible to small children (they are our future, after all)), and making the two-step a manageable two and a half inches lower.

Now let's go real narrow. What's the deal with those .pdf's that automatically jump to the next page when you're scrolling through them? You're approaching the first page break in some nice, boring, published paper, and you want to bring those last paragraphs to a comfortable, mid-screen eye level, when all of a sudden you get sucked into some .pdf wormhole that zips you to a whole other page. Computer screens may be growing by the foot, but no one actually wants to have to look at all that screen (least of all the very bottom of it). The invention of the scroll-wheel rendered actual head movement obsolete some years ago, but these .pdf's are conspiring to drag us all back into the dark ages.

I'd be prepared to accept that I'm alone in my opinions stated above. But in the following, I refuse to believe I'm the only one who thinks this way, despite the fact that based on widespread phenotypic prevalence I am constantly left feeling like that might be the case. I know that some regular readers of my blog feel differently, but I really don't understand the suckerpunched/rotting-corpse eyeshadow and eyeliner look. If I didn't know any better (and I don't), I'd suppose some of you ladies were trolling for abusive necrophiliacs. I don't know about you, but I've never been one to lust after women that look like they just washed up on the Jersey shoreline.

Plus, I'm no more impatient in my life when it comes time for a girl to put on her make-up. Granted, this might be my own issue to deal with, but any girl who really slathers it on is just trying to lose points with me from all angles. I'm a big fan of subtlety in many respects, and make-up is no exception. It's at its absolute best when I can't even notice it. Unlike friends, material goods, and all other things people incorrectly try to apply the adage to, for make-up it definitely holds true: less is more.