Monday, October 31, 2005

It's the Great I Hate You, Charlie Brown

...You wear a Halloween costume to work. Um yeah, you’re 45 right? the last time I checked, this is actually an office, not romparoom. And how bout that costume, I’ve never seen anyone dress up like a cat before, quite creative. The makeup on your nose is one thing, but those adorable little wiskers, it’s just the cutest little thing. And what a nice tribute to dress up like all your kids, and when I say kids I mean your cats you psychotic old lady, I hate you.

...You are two crazy Russian chicks attending a dork convention. Just because I’m young and live in NY doesn’t mean I’m down with your ve vant to daunce, you vill come vith us. You have no idea how scared I was of you or what crazy place you’d drag me to, and why me? I’m not sure what’s more disturbing, the fact that I actually vent out vith you two or that at one point you stole a bum’s guitar and starting singing in Russian? It’s no wonder I ran all the way back to the hotel to escape the obvious spell you were casting on people, it’s a good thing too because now I can still hate you.

...You come up to me at a party and make suggestions for I hate you blogs. I get it, you hate people too, you have THE best idea for a blog, it’s soooo funny. What makes you think I’ll remember? Or that it was even worthy? For that, you are now blogged and hated of course.

...You say to make long story short after you’ve already given the long story. Do you even understand the purpose of your words? Do you know the meaning of anything? No, you don't, you’ve told the long story, you haven’t made it short, you’ve given every possible detail that I’d never want to know, twice. If this is short, what the hell is the long version? Wait, nevermind I don’t want to know. To make a long a story short, I hate you.

...You hold a conference in California and hold me hostage during every last bit of daylight. Is this supposed to be a treat or a cruel joke? Let’s invite everyone out to Cali then lock em up in boring lectures all day about mind numbing topics like the tax code….literally. Yes, let’s have these conferences in great locations and then not let you take advantage of any of it. perfect, you suck.com I hate you.

...You are waiting to order cold cuts at the supermarket and don't understand that you need to take a number. Do you see that huge sign with a number on it that changes every 30 seconds or so? what do you think that is? Or how about when the person behind the counter shouts out a number and then someone responds giving their order, does that mean nothing to you? Is this some sort of cat and mouse game just to make the process interesting? No, of course not, here take your number, notice how it's not a number at all, it just says I hate you.

...You start an arguement over the rules to a drinking game. First of all why are we still playing beer pong? we're like 30. Second, why are the rules so detailed as to cause an arguement on whether or not you rack em at 6 AND 3 or just 6? well here's a new rule, I hate you.

Saturday, October 29, 2005

Hate Me If You Can

...You run a major airline and have people board the wrong plane. How on earth can you possbily make this mistake? And of course who else would this happen to other than me? You're response of course is, I take full responsibility, what is that supposed to mean? Is that supposed to make me feel better? Is that going to give me back the 2 hours wasted boarding the wrong plane, deboarding and then reboarding another plane? What really blows my mind are the people that raced off the first plane to only stand in line for the next one, what is with people and there rushing from plane to plane? The only rushing I'm doing, is making sure I'm first in line to hate you, all of you.

...You are annoying foreigner airplane travelor. You are typically eastern european, you have some sort of odor emanating from you, you travel in groups of no less than three, you refuse to check any bags no matter how many or how large, when you board the plane you stand in the aisle with a look of utter confusion as you don't even attempt to put your full oversized luggage in the overhead compartments, you simply wait for a flight attendent to do the work for you, you notice this is a poorly written sentence and I hate you.

...You drive me home from the airport at 6:30 in the morning and insist on talking to me. Dude, I just flew in overnight and have gotten little sleep here, stop talking to me! I don't want to make conversation about how you got stuck in traffic so now you can't bet on horses. Do you think I care? Why are you bragging to me about how you won $300 last year, is that impressive? Just take me home so I can hate you.

...You walk down the aisle of an airplane to use the lavatory for the 17th time and have to touch every single seat. Not only do you touch every seat, but you push down a little each time to wake every single person up. Thank you tard, now we're all awake so we can all hate you properly.

...You are the driver that got lost on the way to JFK. Someone there took my reservation so you had advance notice of where we're going. But that means nothing, the whole purpose of your company, your existence, is to drive people to 1 of 2 airports, you do this every day, several times a day, how on earth can you get lost? And what's with that cough, you're scaring me, is that the bird flu? I hate you.

Tuesday, October 25, 2005

If You're Hating in San Francisco

...You think I’ll continue to write about my hate while traveling. Haters need vacations too you know, even if this is not a vacation but a horrible work related conference with uninteresting, middle aged work people that try to act cool by getting drunk and trying to hook up with me. Be sure to check back next week for my conference hate, in the meantime, rest assured, I’ll always hate you.

Monday, October 24, 2005

The Cider House Hate

...You are at my apartment for a social gathering and you make a comment about a certain song in one of my workout playlists on itunes. I’m not going to mention the song, it is actually a little embarrassing to have had that song on a workout playlist, but I can do whatever the hell I want, its my music. And why were you snooping around my playlists anyway? You’re lucky you even had the chance to change the music, especially since I don’t know who you are. That’s the same thing as looking in my medicine cabinet, did you do that too you little shit? I hate you.

...You are a man filling out a form and get confused at the section that asks your maiden name. You speak English fluently, you appear to be literate since you are reading this form, but in your 36 years of existence you’ve never come across the word “maiden”? oh you have, why would you ask me if you need to complete that? first of all, I don’t know you or who you are or why you’d ask me, but you did and now you’re hated.

...You use cologne instead of showering. In America, we shower daily, actually twice a day is more like it. We like to waste as much water as possible and for good reason. We don’t have to bathe only once a week anymore, technology has made some real breakthroughs actually the whole indoor plumbing was like 100 years ago why have you still not come around? How does your cologne actually gain strength as the day goes on? Do you think that’s a better smell than your B.O.? that’s a really tough call perhaps the combination creates some type of toxic fume. Then there’s the varsity version of the uber stank, it’s the gym cologne wearer, dude you’re at the gym the one place in the world where its okay to smell, but you’ve decided to make it just another place for me to hate you.

...You see several buttons pushed in an elevator and make the comment “we must be on the local”. I just have one word for you…wow. You are so clever. What an observation, you took one mode of transportation and used it as an analogy for another, I tell you, you must be a writer with that kind of wit. Your use of the English language is mind bloggling, I’m blown away. I mean the originality that went into that. You must have never heard that before or taken it from someone else, its THAT good. You see your sense of humor is the more warm and fuzzy, unicorns and rainbows, pie in the face type, you have no idea that I’m being sarcastic and that I actually hate you.

...You don’t understand that if you are talking to me and I’m just smiling and nodding, I really have no interest in speaking to you. If you have not caught on to the formality of the smile and nod, let me fill you in. You are having a dreadful conversation with the most banal of people (meaning you), yet you must, for the sake of society, pretend as though this person is speaking something of interest, so you smile and nod. This is the universal sign that you are not funny, not interesting and not informative, therefore you must stop speaking before I hate you.

...You are ugly and trying to make it as an actress. I’m sorry it’s cruel cruel world, but at some point in your life you are going to have to face reality, ugly women don’t become actresses. There may the off need for a Kathy Bates type, maybe some extras, but seriously, you’re not going to make it, not even in live theater. You may want to consider teaching high school drama, then in 20 years you can lie to the students about your glory days when you were a dancer on Broadway, those kids will never be the wiser, but never fear they will hate you too.

...You are the computer guy that stops by my office everyday to ask if everything is working all right for me. Not only do you cause awkward conversation on a daily basis, not only do you literally speak in HTML, but then you send an email out saying if I have questions or problems I need to go through the help desk instead of going straight to you. So you ask me everyday if I need any help, on occasion I may actually need something so I ask, but apparently you don’t want me to ask you directly, so why the hell do you ask me everyday? Hello helpdesk? I have a problem, I need you to keep me from hating you.

Friday, October 21, 2005

You Had Me at I Hate You

You enter the elevator and hold it open to carry on a conversation with someone not in elevator. Who do you think you are? What makes you so freaking special that you can hold up everyone else in the elevator to talk to your ugly friend about where she got her hair done. Everyone in the elevator knows you’re just being nice, either way you’re being a selfish bitch, I’ve got important hate blogs to get to. From now on if you are conversing with someone not in the elevator, actually if you’re conversing with anyone at all, I’m kicking you and all you’ll be left seeing is me hating you.

You refer to something your eating as “to die for”. I can enjoy myself a nice meal or a night out at a fine restaurant on occasion, but your eating lunch, it’s not the most exquisite tofu soup you ever had and it’s not to die for. Who dies for food? The whole point of eating is to NOT die. Maybe if you cut back on these “to die for” lunches you wouldn’t have that crotch fat. How do you even get crotch fat? At what point do you lose your crotch and gain the fat, I may not know, but I do know the point at which I hate you.

You see me wearing a suit to work and ask where I’m interviewing. You are the biggest and most absolute loser if those words have ever come out of your mouth. You are THE most unoriginal, moronic lifer at whatever company you work. Yes, most offices have gone casual, but just like you, I have clients that I meet from time to time and just like you I wear a suit when I meet them. Are you supposed to be funny right now? In my book, being funny has to have at least 10% originality, which you lack. I realize you are nothing more than office monkey and have no other outside qualities, but keep your dumbass questions to yourself, actually don’t even keep them to yourself, don’t even think these thoughts you are stupid and should be fired on the sole basis of me hating you.

You are stopped in traffic yet continue to honk your horn. Where ya going paco? You see that car in front of you, parked, the one in front of that? parked, and ten cars ahead, parked. You’re not going anywhere, you’re in a standstill, the street is closed. What pray tell are trying to accomplish aside from waking me from my late morning slumber and causing my hate for you.

You are on a date with me and don’t give the obligatory, oh "let me give you some money" when the check comes. You have to know I’m going to pay for dinner or for whatever, but this should never be assumed. You know what that tells me when you don’t at least offer or make the reach? It tells me you are a self absorbed lttle princess that expects everyone do give her whatever she wants. Well dear, I’m sorry, show some class here, not only did you not give the “offer” you didn’t even say thank you. Yeah the date didn’t go to well, you had nothing to say and no sense of humor, but you can have manners, you can say thank you or give the next day text, here’s my next day text, I hate you.

Thursday, October 20, 2005

Good Hate and Good Luck

...You cut me off with your car then proceed to go 10 miles an hour below the speed limit. I’m driving along, driving along, no one behind me for miles, I like to drive a little faster than most, especially since I don’t get the chance to drive all that often. I’m approaching a street and much to my chagrin, you pull out in front of me, inches from an accident then drive at 15 Mph in a 45. not only did you almost kill us, but there was no one behind me, you could have let me go by first, AND, then you have to slow down? Why the rush to pull out in front of me then? I know, you must have been in a rush for me to hate you.

...You spend 6 hours of your 7 hour day making personal phone calls at work. Do you have any idea how loud you are? When I’m doing my hour of work a day, I expect it to not be interrupted by the likes of your yapper talking at speeds unknown to human life form. And the content discussed has no business being discussed at work within direct earshot of at least 10 people, the things you discuss I wouldn’t mention to my closest friend or family member, these are the kind of subjects that go to your grave or are shared only with your doctor. But there’s one thing I’m not afraid to share and that’s my hatred of you.

...You throw your hands up in frustration saying I can’t use this damn computer and ask for my help. What makes you think I would help you in the first place? The sad thing is I did help and when I did, all I had to do was say, of course the formula didn’t work, you’re in Word, you need to use Excel and I hate you.

...You are a bike delivery guy and pay no attention to traffic rules, cars or people. I know the world is coming down on illegal immigrants and all, I don’t care, you bring everything I’ll ever need right to my door, I’m cool with you. But for the love of god, can you learn basic traffic rules? One week in country and you should realize that when cars are all driving one way on a street, it’s a one way street. And when there is a little picture of a person walking in the crosswalk sign and you see a bunch of people walking, you’re supposed to stop. Next time you deliver to me, no tip, except on how you can get me to not hate you.

...You take an elevator up or worse yet, down, one floor. I can’t believe such laziness exists in this world. If you’re not a cripple, there’s no excuse on this. Maybe if you started walking that tough one flight of stairs, it wouldn’t sound like you’re snoring every time you breath you fat ass. You hear me? I’m not wheezing, you can clearly hear me say I hate you.

...You tell me how excited you are that you recently discovered audiobooks which are great on your commute from the burbs. Ok let’s get this straight you suburbanites, I don’t mow the lawn, I don’t go to home depot every weekend, I’m not remodeling my kitchen and/or bathroom, I don’t have to get home to walk the dog (in a literal sense here people), I send my laundry out so I’m not looking for a new washing machine, I don’t own a car so I don’t want to hear you complain about gas prices, the next time you tell me about playing house, I’m going to tell you I hate you.

Wednesday, October 19, 2005

The Talented Mr. Hate

...You are a client, you call and leave a message, then follow up with an email, then call back in 30 minutes and then again in an hour and then in the afternoon at which point you mention that you are a lawyer. Um so you being a “lawyer” means that you can call every 15 minutes, leaving obnoxious messages asking for what? Oh you didn’t get the last page of my fax, oh boo fucking hoo. Your being a lawyer has zero effect on how I’m going to do business, it actually hurts your standing with me, I was going to call you back, but now…oh, now you go into the abyss that is my hate for you.

...You make sounds of pleasure comparable to that of sexual satisfaction while eating. Lady, it’s food, I don’t care how good the food is, it will never, ever, ever compare to sex and your innuendo or whatever your intention, is completely unfounded. I realize that it’s been over 15 years for you, but keep your little cat calls for your “me time” and keep it out of the office. I have a gift for that might help you keep that behavior at home, it’s called my hate for you.

...You insist on having “tea parties” at work. Let us clear up a couple of issues here shall we. This is work, a place of “business”, one might even say a professional environment. Now I’m not really big into keeping things professional, but the point is, I’m not here to be friends with you, I’m not here to chat it up with middle aged, pretentious office assistants (not that I have anything against assistants, just annoying ones), I’m not here or anywhere to drink “tea” and pastry, I’m here to do one thing and one thing only, blog about hating you.

...You ask me if this is a line, when I’m clearly standing in a line. Who are these people that see a line but then feel the need to confirm this with you? Is this a line? Why would I be standing here if it wasn’t? what group of 8 to 10 people independently decide to stand in a formation that represents a line, but in fact is not one. Please sir, go ahead of all these people here, we’re not waiting in line, we are practicing our people formation with the final outcome spelling I hate you.

...You interrupt my thought process when I’ve just come up with a great I hate you and now I’ve forgotten it. You can obviously see I’m at my computer, typing, yet you still feel it is quite all right to interrupt me, interrupt me and you get one response, I hate you.

...You refer to your favorite sports team as “we”. I’m sorry I must have missed the draft you entered 8 years ago. I also must have missed that pretty impressive story how you, having never played the sport in your life, were somehow drafted to play a professional sport. I would have guessed that to be big news, but maybe not, somehow that slipped by. Get it straight you never signed a contract with “your” team, you don’t play for them, but you do play for a new team, hated by me.

...You refer or address people on an email as Team. You don’t know the people, you’ve never worked with them, you are a techie that is trying to set up a server, we are not on a team. Do you need that sense of affiliation? This is right up there with the corporate speak, some idiot decided, hey let’s teach kids in Management 101 that whenever they work with someone, they should be called a team, that way they all feel like they are equally contributing to the business. Well sorry techie, the only Team you’re on is the team of people hated by me.

Tuesday, October 18, 2005

Hate your enthusiasm

...You work at starbucks and don’t know what I mean even when I order a grande. I’ve already described hating you for not understanding how the rest of the world sizes cups, but if I stoop to your lingo and actually use the Grande vernacular, it should be understood that unless otherwise stated, that means coffee. And I refuse to order a grande drip, it's coffee not some kind of STD. Coffee, (not "drip") is the backbone of your establishment, you’re bread and butter if you will, now all you can do is survive on my hate.

...You are a cougar. Cougar defined: You are a woman, 35 or older, you frequent dive bars in hick towns in search of younger men, if not boys. You excel at bar “sports” such as pool, darts and photohunt. You often tuck your jeans into your cowboy boots and wear large oversized belts. You have rinsed out blonde hair, with about 6 inches of roots showing (don’t ask me why I notice that, I just do). Your favorite drinks are “shooters” and Malibu bay breeze, you get very loud to attract attention to yourself and can talk more football than John Madden. You go home with the first guy that buys you a drink and doesn’t hate you as much as I do.

...You actually expect me to get any work done while at work. Can’t you see me typing here? Can you not see that I’m extremely busy, busy blogging about how much I hate you?

...You pronounce words that end in ‘er’ with an ‘a’ instead. Example, my favorite restaurant is sizzla, well no it’s sizzlER and the fact that you have actually been to one and refer to it as your favorite makes me hate you more than you calling it sizzla. I hate you even more if you do the inverse of this, for instance, you are at lunch and you want a tuner fish sandwich. What the hell is wrong with you? why are you adding letters to words? I have a couple letters for you to add, how about Hate and U?

...You run a charity 5k and take it way too seriously. Buddy, it’s a 3.5 mile fun run, I realize this is intense but mowing over 10 yr olds and old ladies walking? And those huffs when you get stuck behind a slow person, yeah that makes sense. If you are trying to compete in a charity run, then you are not a serious runner and should be embarrassed to be wearing those little short shorts. So unnecessary btw, unless you are a serious competitor in a marathon, those little short shorts should not be sold to you, the world doesn’t need to see that pale white bony ass because they already hate you.

...You ask me a question at work, I give you the answer, the correct answer mind you, then you go ask the person in the cube right next to me the same question. Um hello, I can still hear you. You obviously don’t trust me or I didn’t give you the answer you wanted, even it is was correct, but then you go to the person directly next to me and ask the same thing knowing that I can hear you. Hey how do I do this? Well it starts with a little bit of hate, hate for you.

...You keep asking me to send you a link to this blog. Seriously as much as I like the support, that's really annoying. It's not exactly a complicated title, you know what it's about, I've been dropping the I hate you if's for years and you know it's a blog, so all you need to remember is the word spot. It's called your favorites, now add it because I hate you.

Monday, October 17, 2005

Stella was a hater and she's always down

...You respond to an evite and feel the need to make up an excuse. This is the easiest way to get out of going to something, all you have to do is click a box that says no. Excuses are not required, yet everyone feels the need to explain why they can't go. You’ve ruined it for the rest of us who simply reply with a no, so here’s my new excuse. Sorry I can’t make it, your parties are lame, I have better plans and I hate you.

...You try to send a fax to my phone. So maybe you dialed the wrong number once, but there is no reason to come back from lunch and have 37 messages ehhhh errrrr. When you sent that fax the first time and heard my voicemail come up, why would you continue? Shouldn’t that trigger something in your tiny brain that you did something wrong? Is this your first sending of a fax, hmm, it is? They’ve only existed for 30 years or so.

...You spell the name Greg with two g’s as in Gregg. You see there is one G at the end of that name people, one G. I mean if my name was Greg, which it’s not, but if it was, that would really annoy me. Especially when someone has the email address and they are sending me, I mean him, an email, they type the email address correctly with one G, yet somehow can’t deduce that the name that owns that email address might be the same. That’s just flat out rude, take the time to learn who you are talking to, have some manners. You’re new Indian name is Hated By Greg, I mean me.

...You use phrases like this: version 2.1. Since when did numbering things become so complicated? You have 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 and so on. Now you start in with the 1.2,1.3,1.4, 2.0, 2.1, 3.0 and so on. How do you know when to make the switch to a new whole number, should it be v.2.4 or should we go to v.3.0? who makes that decision? Is there some kind of board meeting, with at least 10 executives, expensive lunch served, they sit around debating the importance of sticking with the 2’s while that one rogue wisecracking executive, just to be difficult, decides he wants to move on to v.3.0. But at the end of the day it doesn’t matter, either one you choose, I’m still going to hate you.

...You wear clothes that don’t fit you. You have your two basic offenders. You have your hip hop guys that feel the need to wear XXXXXL t-shirts, I’m so not joking but the shirts literally go past their knees, honestly, I don’t think they’re wearing pants under there, they wear a kind of 21st century leg warmer made of jean. I guess they’ve taken the 80’s thing a little too far, I’m just waiting to see someone wearing a big belt around that tee. And then you have your other offender, your hipster. You know the type, kind of androgynous, malnourished, pale white skin, always has a 2 day old beard, wears clothes at least 2 sizes too small. I guess the point is to show off their lack of muscle and skeletor frame. You ever run into a hipster at sunrise after they’ve stayed out all night? You can see them scurry to avoid any contact with the sun, they’re like the chain smoking human form of cockroaches and we all hate cockroaches, just like you.

Sunday, October 16, 2005

Extreme Hate: Weekend Edition

...You are the blonde guy that was sashaying through the bar Saturday. Ok so you are a younger version of the blonde guy from the Queer Eye show, but how on earth can you be more gay? You really freaked me out, it took at least 2 minutes of staring to figure out that you were indeed male and not female. I think that's your hook, you prance around looking like a woman, with your shirt half open, every guy in the bar had to stare for 2 minutes to figure out if you were a girl, then you make your creepy eye contact and sashay your way over. There is only one thing that freaks me out more than you and that's waking up to the King. Although I can definately appreciate your creep factor, I still must hate you.

...You are an overly excited waitress in a restaurant. Alright face the facts, the acting career, not going so well, but you don't have to act while you're bringing me food. Now I'm not saying I want you to sulk and complain and be a snot because you're serving some obnoxious over privelaged, overpaid individual as myself, but let's keep it to a sensible tone. It's as if you had vaseline on your teeth keeping you from being able to close your mouth. This isn't "Fridays" you don't have to orgasm while explaining the artichoke dip. For an appetizer I'll have some dislike and for an entree, I'll hate you.

...You work in the ski shop and were hawking me the entire time I was there. It's as though I was your prey and you were hunting the most dangerous of game. What's your purpose anyway, you ask if I need any help, um yeah this whole shopping thing is tough, but I think by 28 I've got the process pretty nailed down. Do I need any help with that? Uh, well I'm a complete idiot, I'm looking for a medium, but I just can't figure this system out, the tags have these letters on them, I'm not sure what this whole S, M, L, XL means. In fact, yes I do need some help, can you help me not hate you?

...You tell me I can't get a side salad instead of fries. I order a chicken salad sandwich from the diner, it comes with fries, then I, taking this whole health food kick a little too far, ask for salad instead, you say no I can't do that. What? You can't replace fries with a salad? I don't understand, you can charge me more for lettuce if you want, why is this so complicated? Do the fries come shrinkwrapped with chicken salad before they're prepared? Well my order comes shrinkwrapped with hate for you.

...You call people any of the following: Guy, Chief, Boss, Big Guy, Tough Guy, etc. I know who you are, you're the same guy that's playing a pickup game of co-ed vollyball at the beach and get's into I was all state high school running back mode. Guy, that was 15 years ago, you're 50lbs heavier, slow, out of shape and suck at volleyball, your time would be better spent trying to get me to not hate you.

Friday, October 14, 2005

Requiem for the Hated

...You ask what I think on a conference call interrupting my IM time. Do you think anyone really pays attention on a conference call? Doesn’t pretty much everyone on IM at some point say hold on I’m on a conference call? You are actually not even paying attention while hosting your own pointless conference call trying to prove your worth to your boss. You also don't need to set up a special dial-in AT&T number if the call is only three people, that's what the whole conference button your phone is for. I get really pissed off if you ask me a question on a conference call as if I've been listening to what you have to say. My response will always be I hate you.

...You work at Microsoft and designed word and/or excel. These goddamn programs have more auto functions I don’t need than I have hate blogs. Every time I use one of these programs, some weird thing shows up that I can’t change. Did you set these on time release so every day something new comes to light to thoroughly aggravate me? I’m trying to simply number paragraphs within a tab and suddenly I have an outline going from I. to the A. to the i. to the a. to the I hate you.

...You call a pointless meeting and have a one on one conversation with the one annoying schmuck that is actually paying attention. Who is this schmuck anyway? He’s the same asshole that was speaking business speak while only a junior in college taking those finance courses. All you wanted to do was pass the freakin exams and he’s sitting there joking about how the AOL and Time Warner merger will never work. Hey you assholes, one on one conversations, take it to your office, there is nothing said here that can’t be accomplished over email, my contribution – I hate you.

...You somehow get caught in the rain without an umbrella when it’s been raining for 10 days straight. I don’t understand how you can possibly not be carrying an umbrella on day 10 of the great flood. Why the hell is it raining so much anyway? I feel no pity on you for being stupid, you deserve to get soaked not to mention there is a guy on every corner selling umbrellas for $5 each. Don’t even ask me how an umbrella can cost less than a coffee, it just does. Don’t ask me why I hate you, I just do.

...You eat in public and put the container directly to your mouth to slurp down the last bit of fat juice left in the container. We already know that your eating in public is the only thing on this planet that could possibly offend me, but when you’re eating Chinese food and you finish the actual food portion, is it necessary to put the cardboard container to your mouth to drink the MSG and Soy mixture? You finish the bag of chips but really need to get those last few crumbs, what better thing to do than to put the bag to your mouth as if this is the last time you will eat for days and don’t forget to lick your greasy fingers when you’re done. Of course you lick them after they’ve touched every handle and seat on the train. That’s it, keep it up, that’s how you keep me hating you.

...You work in the mailroom and take something from my outbox only to deliver it back to me in the afternoon. So you see where it says from, well that’s followed by my name and that spot that says to, well guess what? That’s who needs to get this. I know it’s not indicative of all mailroom employees, but you my friend, you are not too quick are you? You know what else? Hong Kong has no zip code, so stop asking me for one. I’ll tell you once, maybe twice that there is no zip code, and what about all those other people sending things to HK, do you ask them for zip codes every time or do you just try to torture me? Well here’s the new zip code, Hates you.

...You are American but use phrases like “call my mobile” or say “cheers” at the end of an email or write 15 October, 2005 instead of October 15, 2005. You’re American, you can't hide from it, you are to write as you were taught not because you’re trying to fit in with the Brits. Perhaps you need to write that in your shedule and not your schedule? Yes the Brits are cool, they’re witty, but you’re not, let the dream go. You know what else? No one fancies you at all, they just hate you.

Thursday, October 13, 2005

Eternal Hate of the Spotless Mind

...You see leftovers from a meeting in the conference room and you attack it like it’s your last meal. You are such a savage. Not only are you gluttonous beast at work, you’re a cheap one too, actually wrapping up the food to take home? Oh the humanity, I pray to the good lord above that you are not feeding that to hungry children at home. The congealed grease that covers everything is repellant, just like you.

...You eat chicken while using mass transportation. You have no idea how much it pains me to see some slob gnawing on a chicken bone while riding the subway or bus. In fact, I’d like to place a ban on ALL public eating. It’s always the people that don’t need to be eating and eat the nastiest, like grease all over their face and hands, lips smacking together making all kinds of chewing noises, they don’t even swallow the food in their mouth before they’re taking the next bite, oh you’ve seen them and you’ve hated them.

...You were shocked when Kate Moss got busted for cocaine. First, you can’t be that stupid, no one aside from a hipster doofus can be that skinny without using the burny. Second, why does anyone care? She’s a model, her lot in life is to wear clothes, that’s it. No one looks to her for anything other than being skinny, having a gaunt face and smoking cigarettes. Your lot in life, on the other hand, is to be hated.

...You still don’t have voicemail or an answering machine of some kind. It’s 2005 right? yeah I think it is, get "on board" and pay the $5 it costs for an answering machine. In fact you have only two years left of answering machines, it’s all voicemail “going forward”. Get your ass out there and get yourself voicemail so you can get your first message that I hate you.

...You are so fat that you take up an entire aisle in Duane Reade and then you refuse to move out of the way when people try to get by. Hey Jo Jo, yeah you, Jo Jo the Whale, move that thing out of the way so we can get by, oh that thing is your ass? Well I don’t apologize, I hate, and right now I’m hating you.

...You slurp your food while you eat in the office. Your life is so pathetic that you sit in your cube and scarf down your food in 2.2 seconds all while making as much noise as possible. Why should the rest of us be penalized for your disgusting eating habits. I’m sitting here busy at work writing about how much I hate you and I get disturbed by the sound of your fat lips smacking together, who makes noise like this when they’re eating? Honestly! Some days I wonder if it’s even a human over there eating, since I hate non humans would I hate you?

...You are still saying fo shizzle my nizzle. I’m sorry but if it shows up in a car commercial with Lee Iacocca, it’s officially over. Yo yo word up homes, dat was da bomb diggedy, yo fo shizzle my nizzle….yeah that is all sooooo done, it’s been done since about 95 I don’t know how any of that’s still around and once YOU start using it, yeahhh, not so much cool as it is sad. Yo hizzle thizzle. Translation: I hate you.

Wednesday, October 12, 2005

Son, You can't handle the Hate

...You broadcast a news report telling people they will die unless they stay tuned. What’s with these local news reports, you get the tagline: Is someone trying to murder your children? Stay tuned at 11. Is the planet doomed for imminent destruction? Only channel 3 has the story, but first the weather….We all know you are pointless, don’t make up these stupid stories because people would rather watch Seinfeld reruns that they’ve seen 67 times rather than watch your irrelevant story about the latest bird flu that people catch when they have sex with chickens. Do I hate you? We’ll let you know after the game.

...You are the MTA. So I go up to Bridgeport last night for a concert (Hot hot heat, weezer, foo fighters – great show) and I need to get on a train back to the city. I go to get my ticket at the machine, but for some unknown reason the ticket machine was on lockdown inside the station. OK, I’ll buy it on the train, but of course it costs about $6 more on the train. So let me get this straight, I’m supposed to buy my ticket in advance at the station or get penalized by paying more on the train, all right seems fair enough. So let me get this straight, I’m supposed to buy my ticket in advance at the non existent ticket window or the ticket machine that is locked down inside the station or get penalized by paying more on the train, uh, yeah that is the most asinine thing I’ve ever heard, how about you put a ticket machine on the fucking platform? The best thing is that this, every single station on the new haven line has a ticket machine on the platform, except Bridgeport. You better believe I’m writing a letter a day for a month to the MTA simply stating…I hate you.

...Your name is Richard, yet you prefer to be called Dick. At what point in your life do you say to yourself, you know my name is Richard, but I prefer to be Dick. Do you have to actually be a dick to be called Dick? Are you so oblivious to the world around you that you don’t understand you are calling yourself a penis? How did that morph from Richard anyway, so you shorten it to Rich, then someone someday has a speech impediment and Rich becomes Rick, but where did the R become a D? Why are there no women called pussy? Imagine if some woman decided one day, Hi my name is Stephanie but everyone calls me vagina for short.

...You see half a panini next to a whole one, you point the half and ask, is that the half panini? Are you retarded? Were you really that perplexed by two different choices, one appearing to be rather full in size, the other being approximately 50% of the first or what we in the rest of the known world typically refer to as HALF. Get the hell out of here, you don’t deserve to eat today.

...you are offended by me asking in a sarcastic tone, are you retarded? So we don't refer to people that are actually retarded as being retarded, fine, ok, but someone's got to be retarded and i'm afraid that is you.

Monday, October 10, 2005

The Hatred of the Travelling Pants

...You have old lady smell. I think when old ladies hit 75, they receive government issued old lady perfume, maximum strength. You know exactly who I’m talking about, she’s not your Nana, she’s your Nana’s friend or maybe Nana’s sister, a distant relative, a crazy old person that’s so lonely she just shows up at every family event without being invited, whoever she is, she wears THE strongest and THE most foul smelling fragrance called Le Stink. The worst part is that it not only smells bad in her presence, but the odor stays with you, it get’s into your clothes and your hair. On the way home the smell detaches to your car’s upholstery, it gets into the seams and burrows, you don’t notice it right away, but it’s there, lurking where it will remain for days, weeks even. You get home, throw your clothes in the hamper, shower with disinfectant that says in large print AVOID CONTACT WITH SKIN, but you know it’s the only thing that will work. The next morning you go to your closet, the smell moved from your hamper to all your clothes, you get to work people are you looking at you life your having an affair with the little old lady receptionist, you get fired for carrying on office romances, all this, all of this, because some crazy old lately had to pinch your cheek and give you a hug….to the old lady smell ladies, I hate you.

...You swipe your subway card and it says insufficient funds, you swipe again – insufficient funds, you then proceed to swipe another 8 to 11 times all with a response of insufficient funds. After the 10th time a line of 20 people has formed all yelling at you that you need to add money to your card. You continue to ignore the angry mob until one of the big brother bag checkers has to intervene to say – insufficient funds.

...You almost hit me when I was crossing the street, in a cross walk, with a walk sign. I’m sure it has nothing to do with the fact that you’re Asian. I mean I never heard any stereotype about Asian drivers and frankly they must be unfounded. I guess the whole symbol of a person walking and the crosswalk, not to mention that an actual HUMAN BEING was standing in front of you, I guess these things slipped your mind when you decided to make that left hand turn which now requires me to hate you.

Friday, October 07, 2005

Online Hating

...You run an online dating website. So in an effort to further my online dating study I created a profile and even tried to post a picture. Well, to be honest in my thorough analysis I happened across quite the attractive and interesting young lady so I felt inclined. Now, in order to contact someone, you really need a profile so I wrote some stupid garble, yet for some reason I’m not able to put spaces between paragraphs or even start a new one for that matter, perhaps I’m profile retarded but mostly it’s the website’s fault, naturally, although everyone else seems to be able to put spaces….anyway, so my picture keeps getting rejected too, it’s a simple pic of me with my nephew, obviously a nice touch to have the kid in the picture, but really it’s the only recent one I could find. So I tried to post it like 10 times, then I thought, well maybe I can’t have the kid in the pic, so I cropped it. still rejected. Then I send an angry I hate you email to their support center and told them their website sucks and that they just made the blog. I check my email this morning and they got me back, I had roughly 147 emails from them saying I’m sorry but your photo could not be posted. After deleting the now spam, I continued to receive 5 emails every 10 minutes and had to block their address with an outgoing message saying, I hate you.

...you actually use corporate speak in your online dating profile. I read through a lot of profiles, well blonde’s profiles anyway. There are an inordinate amount of girls out there that actually speak in corporate speak, it’s really disturbing. I’d say 45% of the profiles said “I work hard and I play hard” I hate this saying more than anything. I guess it’s technically not corporate speak, but it’s awful. Yes we all work hard, our corporate slave drivers see to it, so don’t ever ever ever ever mention work when it comes to dating or enjoying yourself. Working hard is not something to be proud of, maybe it’s just a NY thing where people are more money obsessed than elsewhere, what you should brag about is, I barely work, I make a shit load of money, I’m out by 530 everyday and never work a weekend. now that is something to brag about people. And you don’t play hard if you go out drinking until 4 or 5 in the morning, that’s not a skill, it’s called the weekend. Beat it, I hate you.

...You are the girl that inspired me to actually go through the process of setting up a profile, find a picture to post and run my experiment in the name of the science of course. So I go through all this trouble because there was one cute girl that seemed funny and sarcastic, did I mention cute? So anyway, I battle with this stupid posting business, my stupid “intro” where I have to talk about myself and blah blah blah only to finally have this up and running 2 days later. I go to where I saved this girls profile and she removed it. great. Perfect. Doesn’t she realize the future of this blog rests in her hands? No of course not, you selfish, selfish girl, I hate you.

Thursday, October 06, 2005

Wag the Hate

...You say there is a specific threat of a time, place and method of an attack on the subway, yet provide no details on time and no details on place and only allude to a method, which is obvious anyway. How about providing some useful details like, which subway line or how about for the remainder of the day, week or month? If you trying to avert an attack, nothing works better than if there is no one there to be attacked. Kind of reminds me of that immenent attack on the Citigroup building 2 yrs ago. Keep in mind this blog was sponsered by the color orange, the letter I, the number 8 and the letter U.

In A Gadda da Hate you

...You speak a foreign language and feel the need to shout. Why is it that just about every language other than English must be spoken in shout form. Some are angry, some are pleasant, but all are loud. I’m on the train up to CT and I’m listening to my ipod reading my GQ, as any normal heterosexual male would be doing, and I hear this shouting. Peaking my interest I sit up to look and about 5 or 6 seats in front of me are three Hispanic women having a “conversation”. I have to use conversation in quotes because to anyone else on the train this was a full fledge argument, not to mention I heard their speaking/shouting over the music from my ipod. It almost scared me into not hating them.

...You leave a delivery menu under my door and then say you don’t deliver to that neighborhood. You are the one that left the menu under MY door, you were advertising your business for me to call you for delivery. Me being a brainwashed consumer, decided to give it a shot, I read the menu, decide what I want, I’m getting hungry so I call to place my order. Much to my dismay the following transpired: “uh sa, no deliva, too fa.” But you left a menu under my door. “Sa wrissen to me, no deliva, you no call back” I just want to order some food and…”sa, I hates you” ah touché my asian friend, touché.

...You are fascinated when you walk by a celebrity and then proceed to tell your friend next to you all of the celebrities you’ve seen in Manhattan. If you are anywhere besides Manhattan or LA, I might let this slide, but not here, not today. I’m in the elevator and “Big” from sex and the city walks in (side note: not so big in real life), then he gets out at his floor and these two little hyenas start going crazy and comparing notes about what celebrities they’ve seen, seeing Matt Damon jogging in the park or Kate Moss blowing the burny in a bar. You know what, they’re just people, in fact, typically annoying obnoxious people that think they are too good for you to smell their shit. That is of course excluding Mandy Moore, I definitely have an unhealthy and unfounded infatuation with Mandy, oh sweet Mandy….but to the cackling hyenas, I hate you.

...You have a tattoo of Chinese lettering and have no idea what it means or have the meaning totally wrong. I don’t know how many people I’ve come across that have Chinese lettering, then I say oh that’s pretty cool what does it mean? The response is always I have no clue it just looked cool or it means peace. Apparently in China you can spell the word peace 1000 different ways. I just got some ink done myself, خاشيچ. Translation: I hate you.

Tuesday, October 04, 2005

It's a Campaign of Hate

...You carry a dog in your purse. There are just so many things wrong with this, I don’t know where to begin. First of all, it’s a dog ladies, it’s not jewelry or a hat. It’s a living breathing animal. I’m so not even an animal person, but seriously a barking cat is not an accessory. The bigger problem here people is that too many women are trying be Paris Hilton. I know it’s easy to make fun of Paris because she has no talents and is annoying, but she’s famous for answering her phone during sex, which lucky for the world we all got to see. Anyway ladies, it’s okay to be sluts, in fact I encourage that on some occasions, but for the love of all things sacred and good in this world, please stop carrying those dogs around in your purses for that will cause me to hate you.

...You see free samples in a deli and go savage on them. I’m getting a turkey sandwich this afternoon and some guy is standing in front of the deli hold a tray of pseudo sushi. First of all the guy wasn’t asian, I don’t trust a white guy making sushi, second, it’s in front of a deli and we all know how much delis are known for their take out sushi, not for nothing but there are about 1000 sushi places in midtown, why go to a deli? We’re getting off topic here, the point is that people will eat anything put in front of them if it’s free, not only will they eat it, but they’ll shovel it into their mouths as if they're trying to get the flies off of them, when all they are getting is me to hate them.

...You were born and raised in the US, speaking English, yet now you suddenly have a faux British accent. I’m not even referring to the Madonna/Gwyneth syndrome where you actually move to the UK and then develop the faux accent, although Madonna did develop hers while in the States. I guess, like the others I’ve encountered, being such an artiste calls for distinction from the rest of us peasants. I mean we’re lowly corporate monkeys, what would we know about high society? Oh wait, you work in the same office as me, that's right well apparently you are so insecure in who you are that you need to develop a new persona of sophistication? Who said that? Tis I that hateth thee.

...You sit around talking about everything that is wrong with you. Why do old people insist on talking about what’s wrong with them and how they are dying a slow miserably painful death? You know, I’m young, I’m happy, I’m healthy I don’t want to know about your prostate, I don’t want to know about the aneurisms in your legs, I don’t want to hear about the gout. Don’t try to make young people miserable like yourself, I’ll have my turn someday, no need to rush it. Oh boo hoo, poor me, I’m so sick, I’m dying, wa wa, go join the I hate myself club, because this is the I hate YOU club.

Monday, October 03, 2005

I just called to say I hate you

...You leave long winded voicemails. This is really annoying, here’s a tip before you call someone, have an idea of what you want to say, then you can leave a message and if you have nothing to say, why the hell are you calling? The work voicemails are the worst. You get one of two types, the people who say this is so and so, call me back. Now you have no idea what they want or why they called, you then call them back only to have to say, well I need to check on that now, so I need to call you back. The other kind you get are these windbags that go on and on and on mentioning things that have no relevance to you or the purpose of the call, like oh I had to wait in such a long line for my chicken sandwich then I got to the register and realized I had only $2 on me, so I had to go the atm, then come back and had to wait in another line so now I’m a little late in getting back to you, you can call me back in the next 5 minutes, but then I’ll be going down to accounting for a little bit, I’ll be back in my office at around 3, but I have a call at 3:15 so try to get me in there somewhere, Oh I’m at a new number its 212-555-$#@^. So you just left a 14 minute message, then you leave your number at the end in some incoherent voice that I’m certain was not any known language. These are the only two types of voicemail messages that exist, that’s it. If you could only leave a clear concise message, briefly stating your intentions and phone number, well then I wouldn’t have to hate you.

...You call and don’t leave messages. You called for some purpose right? what was it? if you don’t have a purpose in calling, you won’t leave a message so why did you call in the first place? The whole you should see my missed call excuse is garbage. I don’t care if you have wait through the stupid outgoing message that says press # to page this person, but honestly, what’s a page going to do? the phone was just ringing, they didn’t answer, you think oh well the page will get them, it’s the same freaking thing…besides paging is soooo 93 wanna be drug dealer. Oh look I’m paging you now……I hate you.

...You call me after 4:00 on a Friday afternoon expecting to get work done. You just suck. You are either such a penis that you enjoy pissing people off or you are that clueless. If you’re new to the corporate lifestyle, Friday afternoons are the oh so sacred buffer between the work week and your weekend. you need about 4 hours to ease yourself down from the week, after your Friday lunch, you take no calls, you email your friends, you read cnn’s and NYTimes’ websites 7 times, you listen to your ipod, text your friends that aren’t office monkeys, etc etc. But one thing you never do is try to accomplish anything at all, it’s Friday people, don’t call me and I hate you.

Sunday, October 02, 2005

From Russia: With Hate

...You tell me in the parking lot after a wedding, I don't do PDA. First of all, there has to be affection for there to be a public display of it. Second, I'm drunk, the wedding is over, you're standing in front me...let's make out and then I will hate you.

...You run a bar and don't carry Makers Mark Bourbon. What kind of business are you running here? I don't know how I'm going to react on what you have, it may lead to me trying to make out with girls in the parking lot, I hold you completely responsible for my behavior. If only you had Makers behind that bar, then I would have done what any self respecting individual might do, and that would be to make out on the dance floor in front of the video guy instead.

...I ask you out for a drink, then we get out and you now say you don't want a drink. If you are not familiar with the common term of "going for a drink" then you have a serious social disorder. Word to the wise, a drink means alcohol and enough alcohol means sex. People meet for drinks so that if it is not going well they can bail after one drink. If I say we're meeting for a drink, don't expect dinner either, we need to get through at least two drinks for that. Well I need to get going now, thanks for meeting up for that "drink", I hate you.

...you have said any of the below in your online dating profile. Let me first say that although I see nothing wrong with this, I have not participated in online dating. I'd like to, but just can't bring myself to put my pic up there and to come up with some garble about why I'm online looking for a date. That said, I have this creepy habit of perusing the profiles in search of one that may inspire me to get involved. So here are some of my favorite stupid things people say:

I don't take myself to seriously - what the hell is that supposed to mean?
I love my life, I love my friends - then why are you online looking for a better life and new friends?
I never thought I would do this but - you don't have to explain yourself, everyone else on there doing the same thing, well, except for me.
Giving this a shot - again stop with your disclaimer as if your saying, I really don't belong posting an online personal
I am looking for someone that knows what they want out of life - that's just stupid.
I am a shemale - OK that is scary. Aren't there special websites for that kind of thing?

...You are a cute 23 year old girl that still plays games. Playing games is like so 97, of course you were what 15 then? But come on games are a waste of time, time that could be better spent writing some stupid blog about hating people, people like you.

...You are a cute 23 year old girl that might happen to come across this blog and think I'm serious, call me.

...You are a cute 23 year old girl that thinks I really want you to call me.

...You think I was serious when I told you I also watch Laguna Beach. You will obviously believe anything some drunk guy will tell you. I don't really watch it, I was just making conversation, but I do think that Kristen is such a bitch for lying to Talon and not telling him she was going to San Fran to see Stephen.

...You are the girl from the wedding, I have no clue if I told you about the blog or if you know about it or will someday know about it, well the point is that if you see it, I don't really hate you. If you never see it, well then I hate you even more.