I hate when my dental hygienist tries to carry on a conversation like I don't have her two hands in my mouth.  "Mmmpff, grgrrgmggle, pflejmml."  This is actual torture - two women not being able to have conversation for 45 minutes.  It's almost as bad as my gynecologist making small talk while I've got feet in the stirrups with my toes up his nose.

I hate people who look good in shorts and sandals the first hot day of the year.  We're talking March here.  "Oh, no, the sun's out.  Time for a tan and a pedicure."  I might be ready for this look by mid-June.  Why didn't I start my "Thin Thighs in 30 Days program" 30 days ago?

I hate it when my $20 lipstick breaks the first time I use it.

I hate it when I just need one item at the make-up counter and the salesgirl tries to talk me into their "Free Gift" deal - you know, spend $98 on stuff you don't need to get a little bag of more stuff you don't need.  I never end up using any of it.