Gassed Up at the Gas Station

I've written before about my exploits at the gas pump. And as we all know, times are rough these days. They're even rougher on those of us without jobs (that being me). I've filled my gas tank up the last couple times with change. In fact, I went in yesterday and put in 1.35. In change. Gas is currently about 2.35 in Georgia. The woman looked at me so stank when I gave the money to her. I think it was a combination of not wanting to count the change and not believing this guy just handed her a handful of change. Well, I don't know if this lady is reading this, but this message is for everybody else out there who's hatin': Stop looking at me foul when I put some change in the tank. Unless you're going to start chipping in on a tank, I don't want to hear it. I've got it rough right now. I went to college, then to portfolio school, and now I'm not working. I owe Uncle Same and Aunt Sallie Mae all kinds of money. I'm 27. I live at home. My parents tell me to clean my room and I still get asked where I'm going. I'm getting it from all angles right now. I don't want to hear it from cashier at the gas station too. Don't make me climb over that counter.

"You Know What Really Grinds My Gears?"

You know what makes me mad: when people ask for a certain color M&M. As if they taste different. It's not like Skittles. Blue M&Ms taste just like yellow ones. Don't make me waste time mining my bag of M&Ms to find a blue one for you. The next time somebody asks me for a certain color M&M I'm going to pour out the whole bag in my hand, eat the ones they asked for and pelt them with what's left.
Also, my name is Charles Anthony Thomas, Jr. Don't ask me where the J comes from. If you stop and think about it for two more seconds you won't ask me that question.
And don't walk into a room where I'm obviously watching t.v., reading a book or talking on the phone and ask me what I'm doing. If I have to spell it out for you then you obviously live in a fantasy world where people who look like they're watching t.v. are really playing baseball, so you wouldn't get it anyway.
If I am on the phone and you see that I'm on the phone, discontinue trying to have a conversation with me. I will ignore you and you will only succeed in making me angry, as well as wasting your breath. If you're bleeding, by all means, interrupt. If you can't breathe, you can't very well interrupt, but I will see your distress and promptly hang up. If you want to have a conversation about who should've gotten voted off on Dancing with the Stars today, you're going to have to wait.
If we're in the car and I'm navigating, don't continaually ask me where the next turn is. I'm not going to let you pass it. If you wait, I promise I'll tell you. However, if by some unforeseen circumstance, like I'm choking on a mouth full of the yellow M&Ms you asked for, I let you pass the turn, feel free to slam on the breaks so I slam my head on the dash. On the same note, if I'm driving please show the same courtesy. Don't tell me two turns after that I missed it, especially if it's because you're texting or filing your nails. And don't tell me you didn't say anything because you thought I knew where we were going. Unless we've been to where we're going together, assume I have no idea where it is. I'll let you know.
Guys, don't stand in the middle urinal when there are perfectly good ones to your right and left — same with the troughs at the ballgame. Use the closest open urinal or trough space furthest to the left. I don't want to have to stand right next to you if I don't have to.
I don't want to sound curmudgeon; these are just a couple things that were on my mind.