I am not an easy person to please; a lot of things irritate me. 
    
I hate inconsistent drivers, teachers who have no idea what they are talking about, people who tap their pencils/click their pens repeatedly, the cocky population, and probably 100 more things. 
    
The thing that gets to me the most, though, is when people tell me to chill. The most perfect day of my life could happen, but as soon as I hear the words “calm down” or “chill,” I want to turn into the karate kid. 
    
I am not an ice cube; I do not “chill.” I am not a psycho; I do not need to “calm down.” 
    
Boys are the typical users of this dreaded words. When I am extremely hyper, which is often, I will hear some Debby-downer guy tell me to calm myself. 
    
It is difficult for my five-foot fury not to be unleashed when I hear this foul arrangement of words. When I am aggravated by something, I sometimes hear some person who thinks they are all that and a bag of chips tell me to sit down and be quiet. I muster up all of my self-control in order to not shove my foot into their fat mouth. 
    
It is pretty easy to push my buttons, but one should probably not try. I may be small, but behind this dwarf-like figure is a Ninja.