Friday, May 12, 2006

Lend me your ears and I'll sing you a hate

…You insist on clicking every glass in a mass toast. I consider a mass toast to be more than 7 people, now imagine 15 people trying to click glasses with each other after some pointless toast? Is there a rule book somewhere stating that every glass must click? It’s like a drunken twister game except everyone’s standing, you can’t “accidentally” touch a boob and I'm hating you.

…You cut my hair and insist on putting wax in it to “style” it. Ok so when I came into your store, did I have anything in my hair? No. I didn’t. Do I like a look like a guido club guy? No I don’t. Now my hair is all different lengths, most notably it appears you didn’t cut the sides. What is about the word “trim” that salons just don’t understand? My hair was curling around the edges, cut the curls off and let me get out of here so I can start hating you.

…You answer rhetorical questions. You see you are not supposed to answer those questions, get it? Those are questions meant to get you to think to yourself , keeping QUIET instead of being hated.

…You paint your face at sporting events. Please don’t be that guy and don’t make me go to the game with you. The onlything worse is being no shirt guy, it’s always the last person that should have their shirt off too. There has to be no less than 7 inches of belly fat hanging down over your crotch and spilled beer runing over the mound that is your gut like a fountain in a park, but I digress and I hate.

...You are walking towards me on a sidewalk, I'm walking on the right edge of the sidewalk, you are walking on left edge (for those incabable of understand, the person is walking directly at me) and then when you get near me, you don't move, you expect me to move. You the hell do you think you are? Why do you insist on playing chicken? If you had any idea who I am you would know that I have zero intention of moving, but I have every intention of hating.

...You are hosing off the sidewalk. Yes make sure to keep that sidewalk clean, I mean being part of the street we can't have that dirty. Do me a favor while your at it, when I walk by, keep spraying your hose, I'd like for me feet to get wet, not just a little wet either, I mean so soaking wet that water runs down my foot into my shoe soaking my socks, call me crazy, but I like having wet feet almost as much as I enjoy hating you.

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