If I am to be quite frank, this list was hard to come up with. But I’m sure another week at Creek will consolidate my vice and give me fresh annoyances to complain about. 

1. Nike Techs

A lack of taste doesn’t have to coincide with juvenile males. It just does. Seeing a Nike Tech gives me the same pain that hearing nails on a chalkboard.It is cruel and unusual punishment to subject me to such an ungodly sight.

2.  Maraschino Cherries

Simply put, I do not understand how these abominations can pass as a topping. Why are you ruining a milkshake with such a monstrous excuse for a cherry? Kudos to the people who can tie knots with the cherry stems with their tongues though (I am praying for their self respect to return).

3. Teslas

I know next to nothing about cars. If you asked me how a car runs, my explanation would rival that of a five-year-old’s. What I do know: Teslas are horrific. If they were to be turned into food, they would be a bag of Lays chips: unexciting, basic, and full of empty promises. 

4. Bow Ties

The only kind of bow ties I support is bow tie pasta. Don’t ruin a suit with this sad excuse for an accessory. If you wear one you would look like an idiot at best, and at worst, a male manipulator with no grasp on reality. 

5. Buzzwords

Ironically enough, it’s not the meaning behind the buzzwords that gets me, but the very use of them. Shallow, thoughtless terms like “thought experiment” and “individualism” only accelerate the process of me ignoring your point entirely. You can explain your opinion without sounding like a middle schooler who just got their hands on a dictionary. 

6. Gatorade of Any Variety

As upsetting as this may sound, Gatorade is overrated, and quite honestly, disgusting. It’s like a seven year old was experimenting with food dye and sugar while playing restaurant, and then forced their parents to drink it. I will no longer subject myself to the toxic taste of that abominable excuse for a sports drink. 

7. The Price of Legos

I can not comprehend why 10,000 pieces of plastic come at such a high cost, but I would sell my soul for that Daily Bugle set. Even with that commitment, I think it still wouldn’t be enough. 

8. The Smell of A Hockey Game

Within 20 minutes of being at a Creek hockey game, I got whacked with whiffs of  B.O. and then slapped in the face by the scent of vomit. Now, I was accidentally in the Valor section, so that probably explains the B.O., but the vomit was entirely due to a player lacking upchug control.