Saturday, January 21, 2006

The Hate of Dorian Gray

...You are some crazy eastern European chick. It's as though all the planets were in alignment and I actually met an eastern european chick out at a bar. You know, we get it, Americans are arrogant, we're rude, we're bad tourists, we think we own the planet, but why does that mean you should have vaseline all over face. Imagine the look of horror when I saw you in the light and realized I needed to hate.

...You wear sweatpants. Scratch that...you own sweatpants. This is the lowest form of clothing possible. I'm not sitting here pretending to be some fashion connoseaur, but sweatpants? seriously? really? Life isn't that bad, but I do hate you.

...You seet me at a restaurant with other people at my table. What's the deal with that gigantic Henry VIII table by the way? How about you take out the 27 person table and replace it with 5 normal tables so I don't have to sit with weird eavesdropping people to hate.

...You use a men's restroom at a place of business and destroy it. I'm not even talking about actually using it, I'm talking about walking into the men's room and seeing it completely destroyed, paper all over the floor, urinals uinflushed, toilets unflushed, crow's nests still in tact. I actually had to use a stall and couldn't because all five were not flushed and god forbid I flush it, you're an adult here, flush your own damn toilet and wipe your own ass before I hate you.

...You walk around the office with your tie over your shoulder. Um yeah, its obvious you just destroyed the men's room, no need to advertise it. Please tell me you washed your hands of my hate.

...You actually like today's blog. It sucks yes, I get it. I had a lot of whiskey last night, my mouth tastes like a rat crawled in there and died. I smell like a cross between gasoline and alcohol, don't ask, but whatever I'm just waiting it out to my next hate.

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