Monday, November 28, 2005

Along Came Hate

...You are angry that assertive women in the workforce are called bitches. Let’s get this straight, women that step on people’s toes, talk behind people’s backs, are crafty and will do anything to get ahead, are full fledged bitches any way you look at it. The difference between you complaining and my accepting reality is that there is no double standard. There are plenty of men in the world that act the same way, and they are called dicks. Do you really think men that act this way are admired? Of course not, everyone they have ever worked with thinks they are dicks and hate them, almost as much as I hate you.

...You are waiting for your luggage at the airport and stand in front of the conveyer belt as close as is humanly possible without actually standing on it. So if you stand in the way of everyone else, this will somehow help you get your bag faster? There’s like a chain of assholes that form around the entire baggage area so no one else can get in there. My bag will always be first out in this situation and then I end up having run the entire length of the chain trying to catch up to my bag because yours is apparently more important than mine and cause to block me from getting my bag and hating you.

...You are a girl I haven’t seen in over 10 years that didn’t remember my name. OK, it’s been a long time, I haven’t seen or thought about you in over ten years, but seriously, we knew each other pretty well. If I’m going to get all liquored up at some hick bar at home, I’m going to talk to some cute blonde I knew from high school. I mean it’s not like we were strangers, did we not get caught by your parents making out on your couch in HS? I think we did, at least remember my name, I feel stupid and now I hate you.

...You are from my hometown and the biggest night of your year is the night before thanksgiving. Without fail you will for some reason be a “bouncer” at the local white trash bar. You don’t work there, your only connection to this bar is that you spend the other 364 days year of your miserable life in there. The bar of course is called Porky’s, but you are one of those special patrons that calls the owner “Pork”. You think it’s some exclusive club and try to let a line form outside and when people come up to you to go in, because you’re “checking” IDs, you love that power trip to say “you gotta wait 5 minutes, it’s too crowded.” But you have to say that in your most dumb jock kinda voice, with a cross between a Brooklyn and Bronx accent even though you don’t live in either place and have probably never been. And forget that you know me and yet you continue to ask for my ID to get into a local dive bar and forget that I am actually older than you and you know that and you call me by name and say Hi, let me see you’re ID and then I say, Hi I hate you.

...You are a salesman helping me get fitted for suits and says to the tailor, let’s clean up the seat. This referring to the ass portion of the pants. How about this, people that make pants for men, try making them so the ass doesn’t sag down seven inches. It’s not like I have a back with a line in it either, I actually have an ass, so what is the problem? I can almost understand on a suit because you get fitted for them anyway, but regular pants, jeans, and…if you actually wear them, shorts too. I can’t understand the problem with making pants that actually fit and don’t look like you are carrying a load in your ass while hating you.

2 comments:

jessie said...

i think the more appropriate term for men like that are assholes.
small town life sucks! i know, i live in one!!!

cleverabuse said...

hadnt heard from you, thought id drop a comment. love the new hate