On Imperfect Things Which Could Stand to be Improved

Girl Scouts' Trefoils. As a young, entreprenaurial scout, I tried not to pass judgment on my customer's choices, but when someone did ask if I had these, I was immediately suspect, as if preferring bland shortbread cookies to Samoas was the manifestation of some sort of dangerous kink in their personality. I half-expected the next words out of their mouthsto be "Also, how much do you want for that sash? Unwashed."


Tonic. I've got my own personal issues with tonic, but those aside, I don't understand why this is such a popular mixer. Is it because the horrifically bitter flavor distracts the taste buds from the bite of the accompanying liquor? Couldn't the same thing be said of, say, a kick to the groin? And yet no one orders a Gin and Kick to the Groin.





Revolving doors. At what point did a normal door become not good enough? I am near certain that one of these doors will be directly responsible for my death. The only thing that suppresses my rage towards the inventor each and every time I get stuck in one of these is picturing the look on women's faces in bars as he says to them "Me? I'm a door architect."





Stressballs. "Man, what a crappy existence. If only I could symbolically channel all of my existential worries and concerns over my future into a foam ball shaped like a smiley face. Ah, all better now."






New Jersey Town Names. Hackensack? Mahwah? Tewksbury? It's a rare place that sounds like you'd imagine it smells, but Jersey seems to nail it every time. We can't all live in Celebration or Winter Haven, but at least Florida manages to at least pretend that it's something other than God's Waiting Room.