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  You know what grinds my gears? Group chats! 

   We would talk about a certain subject and then I have something to say. So I type it up as quickly as I can but as soon as I send it, I read the texts and the subject was completely changed. 

  Seriously, how did we go from talking about a dream one of us had about a clown at Starbucks, to talking about the new meme of a polar bear eating a strawberry, in .27 seconds?

  It just really gets on my nerves when people are always talking and they never give anybody a chance to speak. Since when does the world revolve around them? Oh, that’s right… NEVER! 

  Then, later when everyone is talking about the polar bear meme now, you say, “So, about that clown dream you had. I had that same dream a week ago. Crazy, right?” 

  And there’s a moment of no texting (for like the first time in forever). A few seconds later somebody says, “Anyway… I showed the polar bear meme to my grandma, and she laughed so hard that spaghetti came out of her nose.”

  So at that point, I give up. And that’s what grinds my gears.

   You know what grinds my gears? People acting like Valentine’s Day is a big holiday. 

   Sure, it’s fun to get cards and chocolate, but it’s hard to enjoy it when everyone’s getting all kissy-kissy right in front of your face. 

  Just think about it for a minute, it’s kind of offensive. I mean, it’s about showing love, right? Well what about the other 364 days of the year? Are you not showing love then? Well, at least we don’t celebrate it the way the ancient Romans did. 

  I mean I hate modern day traditions, but at least it’s better than skinning a dog and a goat and then whipping each other with the still-bloody pelts (Yep, that’s how the Romans did it). 

  So I guess I can’t complain. But let’s be honest here. We don’t need Valentine’s day. The only people actually benefiting from it are greeting card companies. 

   And that’s what grinds my gears! 

   You know what grinds my gears? The disgusting green mush in a leathery shell with a giant pit in the middle that is commonly known as an avocado. 

  For some unknown reason, people have found some deep love for these gross little creatures. I don’t know how many times I have heard the words, “Avocados are my spirit animal!” in some high pitched squeal as I am walking through the grocery store. And all I can think to do at that moment is gag. 

  I mean, is there really anything good about avocados? They are unnaturally neon green and the texture is worse than choking down baby food. 

  And then there are the so-called "cute" cartoon avocados that can be found on backpacks, clothes, and anything else the companies decide teenage girls want. You can also find cacti and succulence in the same position, but the worst by far is avocados. 

  They taste gross and they look gross, I don't think I will ever understand the appeal! They are just some marketing ploy to get rid of produce that they know no one would eat by their own free will. At least that is my conspiracy theory. 

   And that’s what grinds my gears!

   You want to know what grinds my gears? When the date line on a piece of paper is shorter than the period line.

  Since when has it only taken an inch to write out the date? Oh wait! It never has. 

  Then, I try and fix the problem by drawing an extension to the line, but fail horribly to continue the line because it’s not straight. So, I take out my ruler and get in trouble for “fiddling” during a lecture. I’m sent to the principal’s office, where I become expelled. This will go on my permanent record, the college I apply to will see this, declining me. I’m now forced to live under a bridge and marry a troll named Tom. 

  To make this even more demeaning, the period line is twice the length of the date line. 

  Like, why?

  It’s not like I’m going to write out the number!

  Still, the line is still too long.

  And I can’t erase ink.

  So, here I end up with a scribbled, horribly drawn half of a line, and an awkwardly crossed-out line with my scribbly handwriting to sit up top of it. 

  And that’s what makes me angrier than politics.