We’ll do the feats of strength later, but now let’s begin the airing of grievances!
- I’m tired of the overall shitty driving in Boston, but particularly, people who feel the need to drive into the opposite lane when they make a left turn. It’s not cool that I can’t drive up to the line at a light because you drive like my 5-year old at an arcade racing game. He’s literally on the sidewalk the whole game. He’s 5 and doesn’t understand things like velocity and turning. What’s your excuse?
No. - Please stop repeating the same clichés on your Facebook commentary, like, “only love can conquer hate” or “if it’s meant to be, it’ll happen.” I’m pretty sure all the love in the world is not undoing a Trump presidency.
- Why won’t my hair grow out? When I had bangs, I had to trim them every month or they’d be in my eyes. Now when I want my hair to grow out, it’s all, “nah, I’m good.” #mediumlength4lyfe
- Enough of that radio commercial where the mom is like, “don’t cry, baby”, and then the kid’s like, “Can I have another cookie?”, and then the mom’s all, “Did you clean your room?” and he goes, “I’m in college now, mom.” I don’t even know what it’s for, but you get the gist. The incredibly annoying gist.
- Stop standing on the left side of the escalator! That side’s for non-lazies, or at least moderate-lazies who aren’t willing to take the stairs, but are willing to at least walk up a few of the moving stairs. Whatever, don’t judge me!
- Is there anyone in the world who finds radio banter funny? “You know how I get with scented candles!” “Oh yeah, Jan, you’re crazy!” I’ll take the “I’m in college now, mom” ad over this idiocy.
- “Hi, this is Edible Arrangements/Sears. I’m calling about your scheduled delivery today. Your washer was damaged. We’re not bringing the dryer either. We’ve rescheduled delivery for the 31st.” So. Many. Issues. With. This. First of all, it may not have been Edible Arrangements but it was Edible something, and they led with that, like it was the primary company. Secondly, no “I’m sorry”, and they didn’t even ask if we’d be home on NEW YEAR’S EVE to accept this delivery. They just assumed we were losers. In this case, they were correct, but what if we’d had plans to eat Edible Arrangements or something?
- Dear Avocados, it’d be great if your ripeness window was longer than 34 minutes. I bought four of you jackholes a few days ago. You were hard as a Festivus pole. Today, I cut into one of you and you were all splotchy and smelly. Get it together, avocados. Watching you, Natasha
Minute 35. [Ed. note: a letter within a list!]
Air your grievances in the comments section. May you all experience a Festivus miracle or two.
Letters & Lists 
I’ve got lots of problems with you people!
1.) If I hear Dominik the Donkey again, I may drive into oncoming traffic. The creator of that ridiculous song is a Double A-Hole. May he never rest in peace and instead have that crammed into his thick skull for all eternity.
2.) To my turd children who are ALREADY complaining that this is going to be the WORST Christmas ever because they know they are not getting everything on their list. Well here is a type, Turd, don’t be a freaking TURD for 2 months straight before Christmas.
3.) To Treetop Jr. (our G.D. Elf) GO HOME ALREADY! and take your damn suitcase full of elf clothes with you!
4.) To all the stupid jerks in our fitbit challenge. OWN UP TO THE FACT THAT YOU CHEAT! You can all Kiss my ASS, Kiss her ass and Kiss your own ASS! Oh, and Happy Hanukkah.
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Preach.
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My SAD ain’t so bad this year, but I got some grievous air to spew.
1) Ok, you’re in the left turn lane and you realize you shoulda took a right. You’re about to get the arrow and I can see you starting your Marcel Marseaux negotiations with the three lanes of traffic to your right. Suck it up. This arrow has the staying power of an octogenarian on rhino horn powder. Come on! You’ve dealt with bigger mistakes in your life, as evidenced by the SAD array of stick figures in your back window. Take the left, do a U-ee and end it.
2) Hey, Mr. Snowblower, the snow you blow in the freshly-plowed street stays snow, or haven’t you mastered object permanence?
3) Dear New Neighbor, yes, my dog does have shitting privileges in your yard. The last owner’s bitch all but deeded it to him. If you want to revoke it, alpha up on his 110 pound ass. He’s the one dropping a deuce; not me. And calm your man boobs. I’ll pick up his firm, non-maloderous dukey long before you step foot in the yard. I’m on that shit.
4) That’s right $12 hair cutters, I ain’t been to one of you in over six months. Sure, I bear responsibility in not knowing how to describe my hair cut wishes to you, but that is an awkward conversation. I don’t know all the nomenclature, and to the extent I do it sounds too much like describing a sex act to a prostitute, I’m guessing. So now I have longer bangs than Natty Bumpo and my family thinks I operate a ferris wheel at the carnival.
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Solid airing.
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