I was recently scrolling through my sent messages and realized that I completely overuse the phrase "ugh." I'm sure I'm not alone, and call me lazy, but its versatility makes it one of those phrases that is almost always applicable. Its meaning is twofold and simple: disgust and frustration. I think it would loosely translate to, "This situation completely fucking sucks and there's nothing I can do about it."
In the past few weeks I have encountered several different people and scenarios that have evoked this "ugh" emotion, which can be so overwhelming that it's sometimes impossible to keep to myself. Allow me to share...
Ugh Moment # 1: The Commuting CoupleI spent part of my Labor Day weekend out in Long Beach, LI (not to be confused with Long Beach Island, NJ) requiring a short train ride on the LIRR from Penn Station. My disgust for commuting couples was heightened to an unhealthy level. Previously, I had only been slightly perturbed by the love birds on the Manhattan-bound V who seemed pained by the thought of having to take separate escalators after disembarking the train.
On this particular morning, however, (perhaps due in part to the fact that I was uncomfortably hot and my head was pounding from the previous nights debauchery ) I almost lost my cool with the couple in front of me.
It should be noted that I am not vehemently opposed to PDA's. In fact, I think hand-holding is a nice way to say, "hey, I'm a big fan of being with this person in public." What I do NOT agree with is the audible face-sucking that occurred on the LIRR that morning. The 5 foot nothing chick had her short little arms wrapped so securely around her boyfriend's neck that it was a wonder he could breathe. He couldn't utter a single sentence that didn't warrant a kiss on the nose, cheek, forehead or lips. It took all the self-control I had not to blurt out "RELAX, he's can't cheat on you on the train!" Instead I turned up my iPod, rolled my eyes, and exhaled a long, loud ugh.
Ugh Moment #2: Sunday Mornings
Sunday mornings have often been the cause for multiple ughs. Depending on how rowdy things got the night before, a burst of sunlight through the window coupled with a quick survey of an apartment in shambles is well deserving of an ugh.
Yes, it's almost noon and you still haven't moved from your slumber. Yes, you made horrible decisions last night (including all the gin you consumed before you went out). And yes, you will be violently thrust back into reality...with a debilitating hangover.
But wait, there's more! Let's say you decide to keep the weekend going with some Sunday Funday festivities. Perhaps a liquid brunch or some football specials? Great, so you throw on some big sunglasses and your cleanest looking scrubs and venture out into the day, only to be confronted by a world of people far more functional than you. You know exactly who I'm talking about: The mom with the the toddler in the stroller, the man who just went grocery shopping, the old lady walking her dog, or worse, the marathon runner at the height of their training. Maybe I'm just jealous that I'm not quite as physically fit, but while I'm stumbling to my all-you-can-drink meal, the last thing I need to see is someone covered in sweat reminding me of all the things I'm NOT doing with my Sunday morning. Ugh.
Ugh Moment #3: The Overstimulated Tourist
As a New Yorker I've learned to live with the inconveniences of foreign tourists. In fact, there have been times when these tourists serve as a reminder that I live in a city so great, people from all around the world venture here to see what all the fuss is about. There are even days when I'm in an abnormally positive mood and take it upon myself to offer assistance to the many wandering souls emerging from Grand Central with a look of complete confusion.
That said, there are also days when I have zero tolerance for anyone... especially tourists. I don't mean just any tourists, I'm talking about the incredibly rude and overstimulated ones. I'm sure you've seen them... They are the clueless family on the corner of 42nd and Lex, listening to their newly purchased iPods, carrying several Century 21 shopping bags, scrolling through their cell phones, fumbling with maps, slurping up their Jamba Juice, all as the light is changing for them to cross the street. All I'm really asking is that you kindly remove yourself from the walkway while you decide on your next destination so that I may do as the traffic signal is instructing me and WALK.
Additional UGH moments (that need no elaboration):
- The interminable line at Dunkin Donuts when you're already late for work and in dire need of caffeine.
- Looking through multiple dressers and closets and still having "nothing to wear."
- Being called into a surprise meeting with your boss, who uses these corporate catch phrases.
- People who don't hold the elevator door open when you're clearly rushing to catch it.
- Bars with cover charges.
- Checking this blog when there's no new post.
If there's one store I love more than most in this big city, it's The Container Store. For someone as Type-A as myself, the container store provides the locale for a therapeutic shopping spree. It is there that I find happiness in the form of plastic storage products in all shapes and sizes. I don't even bring my lunch to work, but have somehow convinced myself that I need a container in the shape of a slice of Wonderbread to keep my sandwiches fresh. I'm often tempted to buy a whole new fully loaded spice rack, despite the fact that I have a lazy susan chock-full of spices at home. And while I still haven't quite figured out the proper use for a mason jar, I own at least four- currently filled with extra buttons and loose change.
