Thursday, August 31, 2006

21 Hate Street

...You are my teenage neighbor whose parents are away for the week and insist on inviting no less than 37 of your closest friends over every night. Perhaps if I was in perpetual intoxication, wait...perhaps if I was in perpetual intoxication with several other obnoxious people I would find your friend peeing in the hallway amusing, but no when I get home at night, I want nothing to do with your pee, just as you want nothing to do with my hate.

...You make sock sizes fit shoe sizes 6-12. Perhaps you have not noticed that a carnie size foot of size 6 is quite a miniature foot, while a size 12 shoe is a rather large foot, the shoes are no where near comparable, try making socks the appropriate size and I'll try to make hate the appropriate size.

...You make slim fit shirts with size 18 necks while an actual slim person's size of 15 is no where to be found. Have you seen the people that purchase size 18 shirts? They are the people with no necks, do you think any of them are slim? Absolutely not, do you think any of them are hated? Absolutely.

...You wear wifebeaters as your undershirts. All right, the whole point of an undershirt is keep your regular shirt from getting pit stains and from getting deodorant on them. A wifebeater on the other hand, provides zero protection against either and also provides zero protection against my hate.

...You don't shut the fuck up about hurricanes on the news, you know we've had no hurricanes yet this year and a few tropical storms. We get it, there are hurricanes that happen every year, and every year, the poor people in say Michigan or even California have to here minute by minute updates as to whether the storm is a tropical storm or category 2. Local news in the gulf, yes please report to the people that live there. People in NY that only have the remnants of a storm ruin their labor weekend, no report when it's an actual hurricane and I'll report when there's actual hate.

...You make comments that electing democrats will strengthen the terrorists. Ah yes, local politics are of the utmost importance to the terrorists. I have to counter that not catching the prime suspect tends to strengthen the terrorists. The worst thing is the republicans will lose in '08, which is about the amount of time it will take for another huge attack, when a democrat is pres, then of course it will be a game of I told you so. Well right here, right now, it's a game of I hate you so.

...You insist on asking people if they want to open a charge card everytime they come to the register. We all know there are charge cards, we all know they save a whopping 10% on all purchases, but let me ask you this, why the fuck would I go through the trouble to save a whole 5 bucks on a $50 shirt? Do I look that poor or do you look that hated?

...You make men's jeans that say size 30 but when I go to try them on there is about 5 extra inches of waist. I get your marketing strategy here, but I don't give a shit what size it says, I just want it to be consistent. I could be a size 40, but when I go to buy that size, I expect it to actually be that size. Oh and stop making size 30 jeans with a length of 38, just because they are designer, it doesn't mean I'm a 6 foot 5 malnourished hipster doofus, it means I'm a 5 foot 9 hater of you.

Wednesday, August 30, 2006

When the dogs begin to hate her

...You are an ATM and give me only 50's. I realize I'm a balla, but seriously no one even accepts 50's. What the hell am I supposed to with these? I guess it will keep me from spending money, but it won't keep me from hating you.

...You don't accept 50's. Seriously? You don't want actual money? How can a 20 be the highest bill accepted, nothing even costs less than a 20? That's my daily toll just for living in NY, just to wake up you have to pay 20 bucks, I've recently begun throwing a 20 out my window in the morning, but now I have to throw a 50 out my window and a hate.

...You make a movie that takes place in the future, but you set it maybe 10 years ahead and suddenly in that 10 year period, we live with aliens, are chryongenically frozen, have flying cars, colonies on mars, and everyone is hated.

...You work at a doctor's office and call out my name from a list and somehow butcher it so bad that my first name becomes grease. GREASE? G-R-E-G, not a hard word to say, especially when 4 clearly written letters become 18 letters. I'm not even going to try to recreate what was said for my last name, let's just say that it contained not one of the same letters as my last name, although she may have said, I am hated.

...You work in a pharmacy where I am trying to get one of my 100 new placebo prescriptions filled and you tell me I shouldn't take medicines from doctor because they get a cut everytime I fill a prescription. Not just that, but you know, you didn't need to write down you number and give me your schedule for the next 3 weeks. I mean, I love tatoo's that run up the side of women's necks and all, but you have the same name as my sister, but unlike her, you are hated.

...You ask me how my week off is going. Um, have you looked out the window? It's been raining every single day that I haven't been working, how does that sound to you? Fan-fucking-tastic I bet. How about Fan-fucking-hated.

...You refer to sex as making love. Okay, there is nothing more creepy than calling sex making love. Foreigners are the biggest offenders of this, they've seen to many American movies I guess. I don't care if you've been married for 20 years or just had some fun last saturday, never, ever, ever refer to sex as making love, lest ye be hated.

Saturday, August 26, 2006

Hate that funky music white boy

...You dislike the annoying music playing on my blog. Have you read the name of my blog? It's called I hate you send me emails, text messages, call me, leave comments, etc, that you don't like the music. Yes, it's there to purposely annoy you so that I can hate you.

Friday, August 25, 2006

Every now and then I hate the living shit out of me

...I drive my entire family, my friends and my doctor completely nuts by insisting that I've been having heart attacks, I get all kinds of tests done only to prove that my heart is perfectly healthy, so now it must be lungs and must be my hate.

...I claim to be a completely laid back person and not give a shit about anything, yet I have an entire blog devoted to hating people like you and me.

...I rant and rave about how much I hate Joe Lieberman, yet I don't have the decency to even vote. Um yeah in case I didn't notice, I'm still registered to vote in CT, it's only an hour away and I'm only a hate away.

...I claim I'm going sober and barely make it a week. Isn't going sober compeltely stopping the use of alcohol? Right yes, so having a whiskey before bed, not good? Better not send me to AA, I already turned in the 1 week chip and the 1 week hate. I don't even know what that means, other than me being hated.

...I profess my hatred of reality TV, yet I find myself watching celebrity fat club, my fair brady and flavor of love at 2 in the morning. It's no wonder everyone at work says I always look tired, yeah well when you're up all night watching Next on MTV, you're not gonna sleep much and tomorrow night is a room raiders marathon so I'm not getting any better, I'm only getting hated.

...I refuse to take any kind of drugs prescribed by a doctor or even over the counter because they are "bad for me", yet I have absolutely no problem going out drinking a bottle of whiskey and smoking a pack of cigarettes. Hmmm, maybe I didn't get the memo that cigarettes are about the most surest thing of killing me, other than hating me.

...I go on and on about how bad corporations are and how working for the man is like selling yourself to the devil. Yeah corporations are terrible, they have al the money, but they rip the soul out of everthing, yet I work for the man, in fact, I am the man and I am hated.

Wednesday, August 23, 2006

I write Hate not tragedies

...You need the following lesson in the English language.

Mute: Refraining from producing speech or vocal sound.

Moot: Of no practical importance; irrelevant.

In conversation it is bad enough, but excusable since you can't be exactly sure and you just think to yourself, did that person actually just say the issue is mute? Then three hours later when you're brushing your teeth, you finally say to yourself, yeah I think he did say it was mute. In writing, on the other hand, there is never equivocation, you are without a doubt an idiot. People and sounds are mute, like when I mute the phone when you are speaking, put you on speaker phone and then make fun of you to everyone in the room. Issues, topics, statements are moot, like when you say something, it's completely moot (i.e. pointless) because I already hate you.

Monday, August 21, 2006

Why don't we get drunk and hate

...You are Enterprise rent-a-car and I go to pick up my RESERVED car and you tell me you have no cars other than a minivan. Am actually in a Seindfeld episode? Don't tell me you have an exciting car for me to see and then show me the minivan and say it's that or take a ride with me 30 minutes away to get a car that's still not what you reserved. Hmmm, I'm gonna throw you a curveball here, you give me your car for the weekend and you drive the minivan, how's that sound? NG? Right, because I hate you.

...You own a lesbian bakery/store that I enter to get a cup of coffee and give me more attitude than a strip club bouncer. Listen she man, I just want a cup of coffee, please, just pour it and let me pay. Oh I have to pour my own, but the cute girl doesn't, I get it, all those years of man hating has caused this man to hate you, oh how the tides have turned.

...You get married and think that your style and fashion sense freezes for the rest of eternity in that particular year. Say you were married in 1988, you still wear nut hugging acid wash jeans and concert T-shirts. Say you were married circa 1991, you are wearing white shorts with long sleeve shirts and air Jesus sandels. And let's say you are married in 2006, 10 years from now, you'll still be wearing my hate.

...You such a bad case of swass that it goes right through your shorts for all to see. Let's be clear on something, you know when you've got a case of swas, take care of this will you, go to a bathroom and pat it dry. Better yet take preventative measure and use baby wipes, it will save all a lot of hate.

...You make me do any activity that will cause me to get a case of the swalls. I don't want anyone to be responsible for me getting swalls other than me. At least I can take preventative measures, which oddly enough do not include the use of baby wipes. Swalls are strickly reserved for gym time, all day drinking in the sun and me hating you.

...You need to check urban dictionary to learn about swass and swalls. I'll save you the trouble for a hate. Swass: Sweaty Ass, derived from the term swamp ass. Swalls: well you get the picture. I'm not sure what's worse, the fact that I thought I thought of these words on my own, that I went to urban dictionary and found a litany of definitions or that I hate you?

...You pull up to a gas pump at the gas station, you sit in the car for no less than 15 minutes, then you decide to get out, hang out for 5 more minutes or so, then instead of pumping your gas, you go inside to buy some twinkies, then you come out and realize you have to pay first, then you go back in and pay, and then I finally get to hate you.

...You are talking to me on the phone, the conversation is basically over, but instead of just giving the "all right then", you say you have to go and will call right back. Hey I get it, phone calls are not meant to go one forever, in fact I could possibly be the absolute worst person to talk to on the phone because the entire time I'm just thinking of new ways to hate you.

Thursday, August 17, 2006

These are a few of my favorite hates

Shit stains on sidewalks; small dogs in large purses
Eating Chicken on subways; a homeless man's curses
Girls that won't drink on horrid first dates
These are a few of my favorite hates

Naked men at the gym; retarded Starbucks sizes
Sneeze guards over salads; taking free samples like prizes
Farting right next to me as though we are mates
These are a few of my favorite hates

When the phone rings
When you're peeing
When this I'm seeing
I simply remember my favorite hates
Then I start to seethe so bad

Tourists in Time Square; walk slow when I'm there
Stupid questions at work; saying I'm losing my hair
Yelling into cell phones makes me irate
These are a few of my favorite hates

Calling things cherry; voicemails that don't end
Blackberries in movies; emails you should not send
Causing foot traffic may not make me late
But that is my absolute favorite hate

When the boss calls
When I see your balls
When my car stalls
I simply remember my favorite hates
Then I start to seethe sooooooooo bad

Monday, August 14, 2006

When Hate Met Sally

...You are in the freezer section of a supermarket trying to choose which ice cream flavor to stuff in your fat face and instead of looking through the transparent glass you have to open the freezer and stick your entire head in right up to each and every ben & jerry container. But you don't stop there, you then have to touch every single container, pick it up stick in your face and then just throw it back. Normal people on the other hand can look and not touch. I, on the other hand, look and then hate.

...You are incapable of making earphones that actually stay in your ear. Suddenly ear phones when from being 10 bucks to $99, thanks ipod, and suddenly they never stay in your ear. Is it so damn impossible to make a pair that will actually stay in my ear? I would gladly be the first to be experimented on to have tiny speakers implanted in my ears. You have your instructions, now go make them or go get hated.

...You are from the school of through that Beverly Hills 90210 was best abbreviated as Bev. Now we all know that Thursday night was 9-O night, then it later became Wednesday for "the college years". If you went around saying hey are watching Bev tonight, well then you know you were getting a look of disgust from me and of course a look of hate.

...You write a part in a movie where an "alien" or time travelor is posing an a normal everyday American, and when asked where they are from, you have them say France. It's not just the coneheads either, I've seen three terrible movies today and all three had some type of foreigner from France and all three had some type of hate from here.

...You walk into a bar, look around then get all excited and clap your hands in apparent anticipation of the night ahead. It was straight of out of Disney movie, only in a bar of derlics, but I haven't seen that kind of fake excitement since kids incorporrated. What was the cause of this excitement, that's what I'd like to know about it, there were maybe 3 girls there at that point and bunch of dudes in striped collar shirts and me hating you.

...You are laying out in your bikini and then decide to sit Indian style (can I say that?) not realizing that you have a massive camel toe for all to see. I'm not trying to get graphic here, but I swear at the center of the toe, it was wet. Now I'm sure there is a rational explanation for this, I mean it was hot out, perhaps it was sweat, perhaps it was a coincidental stain of some sort, perhaps it was the hate of you.

...You feed my recent panic attacks by telling me my body must be telling me something. Listen it's definately not right to have every muscle in my neck constrict at once and then feel like I swallowed an apple. I get that. Why the fuck can I not get past this? Why the fuck can I not hate you?

Friday, August 11, 2006

Doctor, Doctor, Can't you see I'm Hatin, Hatin

…you are preparing to give me an echocardiogram and decide you need to shave my chest to look like the 40 yr old virgin. Great, now I have two bald patches on my chest, it looks amazing, I’m definitely going to the beach without shaving the rest of my chest, I definitely want to bring some girl home to see my bald spots and I definitely want to hate you.

…You are standing at the gary coleman urinal next to me in the bathroom and say “hi big boy”. Now, one might expect this while in a cheap disgusting rest stop somewhere along Route 66, but at my office? I don’t think this is kosher at all. Do you know realize the implications in you calling me big boy while my pants are open? I mean I appreciate the compliment and all, but I realize this is your form of saying “hey there chief” or “how goes it boss” or “have you hated me today”?

…You are my doctor that for whatever reason is doing one test at a time to find out what is wrong with me. Listen buddy, I’m coming next week, you’re doing everything and anything necessary to tell me what this is, so get comfortable, we’re going to be here a while before I stop hating you.

…You are the invisible elephant that is apparently standing on my chest. Can someone please fix this? Its been a two week long heart attack/throat cancer/pulmonary embolism/lung cancer/stroke/emphysema/aids/pneumonia/etc and that’s just the short list. I swear I won’t smoke anymore, no more maker’s, no more staying up until 7 in the morning, no more bad words, and no more hate.

…You are the internet that decided to put the absolute worst illness as the first hit for every minor symptom anyone could possibly have. Let’s see search fatigue, well obviously you have aids or some type of cancer, can’t be lack of sleep. Chest pain….yep heart attack, we’ll put strained muscle somewhere around 7362 on the list of possible ailments. Fainting, hmm that one is in reverse, that’s just dehydration. But hating you, that’s numero uno compadre.

…You feed my anxiety by telling me stories of all your unhealthy family and friends and how they died. Um, yeah, you aren’t helping me here. You see the idea is to take my mind off it, not perpetuate my chronic paranoia that I’m dying instead of hating you.

…You tell me it’s disgusting that I drink starbucks straight up. And yes I can call it straight up because it’s obviously not coffee, it’s crack. F straight up, I’m going for an IV of this shit and while you’re at it, give me another IV of whiskey. Hmmm, I think see I see a cause and effect of my trauma, coffee during the day to take me up and whiskey at night to bring me down, throw in a little over exercising, add a couple of cigarettes and then top it off with borderline anorexia and whamo, you’ve got hate.

…You are Joe Lieberman. You are so self serving that you are going to run as an independent because you lost the democratic primary. Face it. There’s no Joementum left. You are not wanted by the people you allegedly represent, by leaving the party, you are admitting that you are not a democrat, you are a traitor to your ideals. We all can see plainly how you morphed into a republican because you thought that would carry you in presidential primaries in New Hampshire, but a 3 way tie for third should have shown you otherwise. All you are doing is trying to keep your job, remember 2000 when you ran for VP, you were also running for your senate seat, you should have quit then, but no Joe, you wanted to hedge your bet, either way, you keep a job. And don’t tell me the dems needed you in CT then, your opponent was a convicted child molester, I could have run, but instead I have to hate you.

...You are Joe Lieberman that tried to tie his loss to a win for the terrorists. Are you F'n kidding me you little weasel? It's no fucking wonder you are DICK Cheney's favorite Democrat, that's because, you're no democrat. I honestly truly do not believe any terrorist is paying any attention to CT politics. Joe, you are so irrelevent that they don't give a shit, go back to putting labels on video games and keeping bad words out of movies, let the real leaders hate you.

...You are my doctor that has yet to call with the results from yesterday's echo test. Um yeah, is that a good sign or bad? Either it's not urgent so no big deal, or you have no idea what it is or you can't break the bad the news to me. It's like I left a message for some new girl I met and I'm just waiting and waiting and waiting for that call back, I'm pathetic and actually, I'm hated.

Monday, August 07, 2006

This Hate Is Bananas; B-A-N-A-N-A-S

...You are standing on a down escalator right in the middle of the staris with your arms on each railing so no one can pass by and the pretend to be oblivious for 7 minutes it takes to go down one flight of stairs as I stand behind you and obnoxiously huff because saying excuse me would just be too easy. I'm not going to address the fact that you are standing on a down escalator, i'm just going to hate you.

...You were washing your shirt in the sink of a bathroom in Central Park. Havins some decency will you, some self respect. I could see if you are homeless, it's a struggle I know, but you were obviously not homeless, just bizarre and just hated.

...You are the three eruo-trash dudes walking around Central Park in full on club gear and club mode hitting an every girl, including those with their boyfriends. I particularly enjoyed the coreographed 3 man squat, elbow on the knee, hand to chin maneuver. It was as if Rodin had come back to life here in NY to create a live action version of the thinker and to create a live action version of my hate.

...You put a $ on every single number in a spreadsheet at work. You know, we're an American company, most likely we're talking in Dollars, but OK. The only numbers on the entire spreadsheet are Dollars, but OK. You can simply put a note at the top that says all figures are in US$, but OK. Wait, it's not OK I hate you.

...You are the textbook JAP that was sitting next to us at the park this weekend. I swear if I was writing a part for a JAP in a movie, this girl would be my only choice to play it. You very entertaining for the first 10 minutes, it's absolutely amazing how you can talk literally for 7 hours straight and say absolutely nothing of substance at all. It's also amazing that I sat there listening and getting dumber for having hated you.

...You are a dude that is laying on a towel in the park near...saaaaaay me; and you are wearing loose shorts and your balls are hanging out for the world to see. Of all the things I could see in the park, all the girls in bikinis, of all the wonderfully jappy girls, of all the hysterical meatheads that think their at a club, out of all these things, I had to be subject to sight of your brains hanging out. Well listen here son, you will now be subjected to my hate.

...You are Joe Lieberman. It seems the fine people of Connecticut read my blog all the way back on day two when I first hated Joe Republierman. Perhaps it was two month letter campaign to Joe telling him to leave the Democratic party that first gave him a clue that he ran out of joementum. Perhaps it was voting with the Republicans more often than not. Perhaps he tried to hard to show that he is religious, just like a Republican would. Perhaps he tried to hard to think we are still living in the 50's, just like a Republican would. Perhaps you are hated, just like a Republican.

...You don't go back to day two of the blog to see that I did in fact give Joe a Hate out. That's when no one was reading, ahhh somethings never change, but somethings are always hated.

Thursday, August 03, 2006

It's a Wonderful Hate

...You give me an EKG, tell me my heart is in excellant condition and then insist I come back the next day for an echocardiogram. Um, if it's in such excellant condition, why did you say my heart rate is low? Why are you insisting I come back tomorrow? Why does the left side of my body still hurt? Am I dying or am I hating?

...You have shit that smells so terrible, the odor creeps out into the office. Oh my god, did you eat farts and then shit them out? It smells like something died. There is no way such a foul odor should travel through the double door barricade of the men's room. There is no way I shouldn't hate you.

...You say to me, 'sure is hot out there huh'. Oh is it? I hadn't noticed when I walked into the subway and looked as though I just walked out of a pool. Hot out there? Naaahhh, what's 105 degrees and 100% humidity? That sounds like beach weather to me, unfortunately, it's only hate weather.

...You are about 15 feet behind me and are approaching the door to my apartment, knowing that I am such a kind individual, you see that I am holding the door for you, but instead of doing the obligatory courtesy half run you actually walk slower. Are you for real? Who do you think you are to assume I'll just stand here holding the door for you while you take your sweet ass time to get hated by me.

...You tell me the time in military time. I get it, Americans have to be different, 24 hours in a day should equate to 24 hours, not two sets of 12. Was it that Americans were so stupid we couldn't count past 12? Why wouldn't you simply say it's 1930 instead of 7:30? You want to know why? Because we're American and you're hated.

...You are proud that Americans don't use the metric system. Yes, yes the entire world uses the metric system except for us, the metric system which is so much easier to use and much more logical than saying, hey a foot, that was the size of some dude's foot so that's a measurement. An inch that was the size of your penis, so that's a measurement. 2 pints to a quart, but 4 quarts to gallon and only 1 hate to you.

...You are the fat asses that ride the train and deflate the seat cushions because they are designed to withstand up to only 200 pounds on a regular basis. Here we go Fatmerica, I can't even ride a train comfortably because you have to have that extra big mac every time you eat. Why am I the one getting EKGs while you walk three blocks and think that's enough exercise to be rewarded with a twinkie, in reality it's enough exercise to be rewarded with hate.