I HATE PEOPLE WHO…

…no matter what personal experience you’ve just told them about, have one of their own that they think tops it – a place they’ve visited that’s more beautiful, a scary experience that’s more terrifying than yours, a better bargain they’ve negotiated, a more brilliant person they’ve encountered, e.t.c.

…come and stand next to me when I am keying something in.

…yell from another room and expect me to get up if I can’t hear what they are saying.

…claim to be Christian and yet be so judgmental of others and how they choose to live their lives.

…interrupt you when you’re telling a story and then they continue to tell you their story. Then ask you in an uninterested tone to continue on with your story when they are finished talking.

…give their kids weird names.

…you ask a simple, straight forward question and they spend ten solid minutes rambling on about everything in the world EXCEPT the answer to your simple, straightforward question. I hate that!

…think their children have a “right” to disturb and disrupt others in public places, and who have the attitude that the rest of the world should just “deal with it” or leave.

…use the toilet and leave toilet skidmarks. I don’t want to know you poo. How difficult is it to clean up your own crap?

…can’t admit they’re wrong, even when it’s blatantly obvious.

…insist on sitting with their legs spread wide like they got something there, while riding on public transport.

…ogle or whistle at women who walk down the street.

…argue over pointless things, that I feel like punching them. And I love it when people admit to not knowing anything about a subject, yet give their opinion anyway.

…are better off than the vast majority of people on this planet but can’t appreciate their good fortune & feel the need to constantly complain about the most trivial things – they always cry broke. I happen to know this woman who is always crying that her business is failing. She is always crying, crying and crying…day and night, Monday through Friday. She’s never been grateful and yet manages to have more than many people in Kigali. I once was in her restaurant (was passing-by and went to say hi) when someone (a friend) came to seek help from her. His child had been chased from school because he hadn’t paid school fees yet. He was borrowing some money to pay the school fees, and promised to pay back in one-week time. Then she tells him she didn’t have any money (yicaye muri comptoir ari kubara inote), and starts stories of “I’ve just paid the milkman all the money. He delivered 100 liters of milk today. Sinzi ko mbona n’ayo kwishyura imigati…” That gets her started and she laments over her business, that is failing (kandi abakiliya bari gucicikana, babuze n’aho babicaza!) that you could ask for a bank loan and lend her some amount! Abanyakigali ni danger man!

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