Nazi Authors

Finding out an author you like was a Nazi is a bummer. Once you find out someone was a Nazi, it irreversibly colors your perception of them. Even if you’re not the kind of person who spits on the ground every time someone says Hitler’s name (i.e. a Jewish grandma), it still feels a little weird to read stuff by a dude who once gave his Nobel Prize medal to Goebbels. Incidentally, fuck you, Knut Hamsun. Similar, yet extremely shallow, bummer: Finding out cool celebrities are Scientologists. Ahem, Jason Lee, ahem.

Black Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday Etc.

The stock market crash is a bummer. While the axiom “when you ain’t got nothing, you got nothing to lose” will no doubt see your destitute ass through the financial crisis, it’s nonetheless impossible to shake the feeling of impending doom that’s in the air. Though it’s wholly unsurprising that congress shot down the bailout plan to hand over a frillion (that’s right, a frillion) dollars, it still sucks that you now have to worry about being crushed to death by an I-banker leaping from an 80th story greed-palace. As if you didn’t have enough things on your plate.

Ex-Boyfriend Gets Married

When your ex-boyfriend gets married it’s a bummer. It’s a bummer because you’re like “Jesus Christ! Even THAT dude managed to land in a serious long-term relationship? What am I doing wrong here????” which leads you down the “Gee, if I had played my cards right, that could have been me walking down that aisle!” road. On the other hand, phew, dodged a bullet there! That could have been you! Thank God for the Internet unbummer: Finding your ex-boyfriend’s wedding pics online.

The Post Office

The post office is a bummer. It’s such a bummer that barely anyone goes there anymore. Seriously, when’s the last time you went to the post office, or heard about someone going to the post office without going “What the hell are you MAILING?” as if they said they were going down to the Western Union to send a telegraph or something. Does anyone even know how much a stamp costs anymore? Is it 41 cents? No? More? Damn. Bukowski pretty much covered the inherent bumout in all things postal, but just to refresh your memory, going to the post office is like being in an extremely boring movie about the recent past except at the end you find out the twist is that everyone is dead and therefore actually in hell. Also a bummer: The Postal Service, the band. Not a bummer: Bringing back “Going postal” as slang.

Forgetting Your Password

Forgetting your password is a bummer. Now instead of just routinely checking your bank balance you have to play some combination of 20 Questions and This Is Your Life in hopes of winning back the privileges of monitoring your ever-dwindling money supply. Sure, it doesn’t take that long, but there’s something uncomfortably humbling about typing out the name of your elementary school. Besides, once you crack the code, you’re going to be forced to change the password, which means there is a 100% chance you’re going to forget it the next time you try to log in, which basically means you are the Sisyphus of the Internet. Similar yet way more inconvenient bummer: Forgetting your locker combination.

Losing A Button

Losing a button is a bummer. It’s a bummer because that pretty much spells Doomsday for that article of clothing. Even if you managed to keep the spare that came with it, the idea of you sitting there sewing on a button like freaking Betsy Ross is totally absurd, and frankly, not going to happen. Plus, if the button loss goes down in the middle of the day, and the victim is, say, the top button of your shirt, you have to walk around like either Rico Suave or the Whore of Babylon until it’s time to go home. And if (God forbid) the button is from your pants, you’re automatically thrust into a situation that is so potentially embarrassing, it’s possible you’ll never live it down. Puzzling sartorial bummer: losing a button does not account for why you wore a blazer with no shirt.

Clay Aiken Is Off The Market

The fact that Clay Aiken is off the market is a bummer. It’s a bummer because what are you supposed to do with all those “MARRY ME CLAY” signs, not to even mention the homemade “You’re My American Idol” t-shirts? What makes it even worse is that no one saw this coming, so it’s like a heartbreak and a half. Who’s next, Justin Guarini?  Say it ain’t so! So bad it’s good unbummer: From Justin to Kelly.

Accidentally See-through

Accidentally wearing something see-through is a bummer. It’s a bummer because since you’re unaware that you’re like a whisker away from mooning everyone on the G train, you can’t even reap the benefits of showing off the goods, like for example mardi gras beads or self-esteem boosts derived from the catcalls of drunken fratboys and/or homeless men. Not a bummer, if it’s your thing: Intentional see-through. Google bummer: Trying to find a non-lewd photo of a transparent garment.

Sneeze Attack

Sneeze attack is a bummer. It’s a bummer because even though you can’t control it (unless you want to do that thing where you screw up your face and use all your brain power to keep it in, which may result in a head explosion), you have to take responsibility for it, which means that after about four or five in a row, even the most compassionate, people-loving person in class is going to turn around and go “Jesus Christ, what is WRONG with you?” and all you can do is sink lower in your chair and pray that the mean girls haven’t nicknamed you The Sneezer yet. Grade school behavior never dies unbummer: Nicknaming a dude The Sneezer. Cute cute unbummer: Panda sneeze!

Punked By Student Loan Company

Getting punked by a student loan company is a bummer. Say you get home one day and find two thin envelopes from Sallie Mae on your coffee table. Then say you open the envelopes to find two identical notices informing you that haha! your student loans have been cancelled. What do you do? Well, after you’re done doing a few screaming laps around the apartment (a highly recommended method of freaking out), you call up Sallie Mae and they’re like “Oh, j/k! We just like effed up or whatever! It’s all good!” and you’re like “Arg! Bummer!” Because not only did you almost throw up your heart because you thought you were going to get kicked out of school, you also wasted all those perfectly good screams. Also a  bummer: Getting lost in the labrynth of a giant company’s automated menu options. Victorious unbummer: eventually just furiously pressing one until a really aggravated person picks up.