There are a lot of things that bug me.  I find myself becoming my dad more and more every day.  That isn’t necessarily one of the things that bothers me, but my dad is Mr. Cranky, Sr. and I am following in his footsteps.  I guess it’s not easy avoiding the influence of 18 years worth of the man known as Road Rage (and road rage is not one of the traits I’ve inherited from my dad). 

When I go to the movie theater, I like to pick a seat far away from anyone else, but still as close to the very center of the theater as possible.  If the second option isn’t always possible, at least I can be content satisfying the first.  Until other people come and invade my space.  I even avoid seeing any film in its first week of release because the crowds are simply too annoying.  Fulfilling my husbandly role, I took Swedish Girl to The Devil Wears Prada yesterday and after finding a suitable seat, I went to the concession stand.  I returned to find some unsuitable old hag sitting in front of me.  For some reason this bugged me, but I soldiered on.

Tomorrow is Independence Day and, yes, that is what you call it.  I am convinced that a staggeringly high percentage of Americans do not even know that July 4th is actually called Independence Day.  While I did not care for the films themselves, I was overjoyed at the Independence Day movies because I hoped they would bring the true name of the great American holiday back to the tongues and hearts of this country.  It didn’t quite work, or at least not for long.  You will never hear me wish anyone a Happy July Fourth.  Never.  Why don’t people say “Merry December Twenty-Fifth!” or “Happy January First!”  Because it’s dumb, that’s why. 

And that leads me to St. Valentine’s Day.  Yes, I keep the “Saint” in there.  You don’t hear anyone say “Happy Patrick’s Day,” do you?  No, you do not because that would be foolish.  I’m not a Mel Gibson Orthodox Catholic zealot, either.  In fact, it was probably Christians who began the practice of dropping the “Saint” anyway.  I don’t care if I sound old-fashioned when I say it.  I’m just keeping it real.

I haven’t checked the final American League versus National League won-loss statistics yet, but I know the AL laid the smack down on the NL.  Big time.  While I am a Boston Red Sox fan, I’m not an American League fan.  I much prefer the NL brand of baseball because it is baseball the way baseball was intended.  None of this designated hitter bullshit.  Fuck that.  A pitcher can step into the batter’s box just as well as a second baseman.  Baseball players are barely athletes anyway, but if you don’t even wear a mitt and play the field, then you’re just a glorified slow-pitch softball player.  With all due respect to David Ortiz, you only play first base a handful of times a year and that’s pretty sad. 

There is one thing (okay, one of many…or at least one of several) that puts a smile on my face, however.  As my man LTJ mentioned, the World Cup is in full swing.  On Saturday, I watched my motherland France defeat the best football playing nation on earth, Brazil, and for those two hours, I was content.  I was bothered by nothing more than the occasional yellow card shown to a French player or the frustrated antics of a Brazilian player.  I expect the swashbuckling Les Bleus to outplay the Portuguese and land in the championship game next week. 

Oh, and England were knocked out of the tournament.  Yet another disappointing showing by the country that invented football.  And poor David Beckham tearfully gave up his captain’s armband after he couldn’t lead England past the quarterfinals in his two World Cups as captain.  My heart weeps for you, Cappy (not).

And for that, I am not cranky.  Happy Independence Day!