Thursday, November 30, 2006

Standing in line to see the hate tonight

…You refer to basic education as the three R’s. Reading, okay, yes this starts with an R. Writing, you’re starting to lose me here, but at least it sounds like an R. Arithmetic, so apparently just having an R in the word makes “the three R’s”. If we can’t even name our education, how is anyone supposed to learn, and what about science? And what about hate?

…You are my new girlfriend that is always traveling and has only met a few of my friends. So now everyone thinks I have a girlfriend in the Niagra falls region, oh you wouldn’t know her, she’s not from around here. I swear she does in fact exist, just as I do in fact hate.

…You speak another language and then talk about me in that language right in front of me. You look at me, then turn to your friend speaking Tokyo talk of some sort, then laugh and laugh like it was the funniest thing in the world. So I know you are talking about me, subtlety is not a subject in which you excel. I’m right here, I can tell it’s about me and I can tell you’re about hate.

…You are the prick that decided handbags should now cost no less than $1500 and that all girls should want them for 30 days of use only to then store in the closet for all of eternity. Master marketing is what I call the a holes that created the handbag industry, they’re fucking bags ladies, Duane Reade gives out bags for free and I give out hate for free.

…You are on the phone, I come into your office, you hold up one finger giving me the indication that you will be off the phone in 1 minute or less and that I should wait until you are done. You then proceed to stay on the phone for no less than 17 minutes while I waste away waiting for you. I came in to see if you wanted lunch, not if you run a waiting room, I’ve got places to go, things to do and you to hate.

…You have a computer operated phone answering system that asks for my account number, I proceed to enter my account number, I then finally speak to a person and the first question is, may I have your account number? Oh you mean the 16 digit number I just entered for no apparent reason? Sure, I love to waste my time, almost as much as I love to hate you.

…You are looking for something for all of 3 seconds, don’t see it, then claim it’s either lost or stolen. I look for no more than 4 seconds and find it immediately. You see when looking for something that typically involves opening a drawer, a bag, your eyes. I hereby am implementing the 15 second rule, you must actually look for something for no less than 15 seconds before I start to hate you.

…You are at the movies, sitting next to me and think you are entitled to the entire arm rest. Who are you by the way? I can see if maybe I know you, but I’m in the stranger seat, meaning you’re a fucking stranger and my arm wants to rest just as much as you want empty those milk duds down your esophagus. This is a shared arm space my friend and by shared, I mean mine and by mine, I mean I hate you.

…You are at the movies and think that just because it’s a preview you can still speak at normal conversation levels. I think we all know the previews are the absolute best part of the movie, I pay just to go see previews and then bounce from theater to theater watching only the previews and then leaving, I have a blog about it called ionlywatchpreviews.blogspot.com where I review the best previews. So the moral of the story here is that if you check that link, you are an idiot and if you talk during the previews, you are hated.

…You say you don’t want anything for Christmas and then when I get you nothing, you cry. I’ve explicitly said I am getting you something for Christmas, you insist that I should not, I argue, we fight, I concede and do as you wish. Here’s comes Christmas and lo and behold I have no gift for you and you bitch and bitch and moan and did I mention bitch? Well this year is different, this I picked your gift out long ago, you know what it is? I’ll give you a hint, it starts with hate and ends with you.

…You say we are not exchanging gifts for Christmas this year, me, thinking that’s a perfect idea because all we get is crap, I buy you nothing and instead buy myself a gift. You, you go out and spend 100 bucks on shit in a box (I mean literal shit in a box), wrap it and pass it off as a gift to me. I then have to return the “gesture” by hating you.

…You come by my office and make a joke, it’s kind of funny, so I’ll laugh to be nice because I rarely give anyone the satisfaction of laughing at their jokes. The next day, you come by my office and make the same joke, you proceed to make the same joke for the next 49 days in a row until finally I pretend I had a horrible accident where I can no longer understand only those words that make up your joke, oddly enough this accident has also caused my hate for you.

…You are annoyed that it’s been about 2 weeks since my last post and this month has had limited hate. Here’s a memo, the hater’s found himself a hatetress and is off in la la land, so give me a fucking break, and give me a couple more weeks and then I’ll give you hate.

Friday, November 17, 2006

An Inconvenient Hate

…You are announced as the new secretary of defense and touted to have an amazing photographic memory, then upon giving your acceptance speech you proceed to take your written speech and read it. If by photographic memory you mean, capable of reading a piece of paper, well then yes of course you have great memory, and so do I and does every other person on the planet because reading is not memory, but hating is you.

…You have a new girlfriend or boyfriend and suddenly you are no where to be found. Oh so when you’re single everyone is your best friend because you have nothing better to do. But now, now you’re suddenly too good for everyone else, you cut yourself off, who needs to be bothered with keeping in touch with friends now. then 3 months go by and your single again, now you call and now you’re hated.

…You see someone in the hall or elevator and tell them you just emailed them. I think they’ll figure that out when they get back to their computer and see that you sent a pointless email that says, I’m going to call you in 10 minutes. Then 10 minutes go by and the person calls you and says, I’m sending you an email about such and such. So now you’ve stopped me in the hall to tell me you emailed me to tell me you are calling me in 10 minutes to tell me you are going to email me and then read the content of the email. You really missed the whole point technological advances, yet something tells me you will not miss the point of my hate.

…You read my blog then steal my ideas and write articles for NY newspapers with all the same ideas. You have to be stealing my ideas, I mean this blog soooo original that no one else could ever possibly think of hating the exact same thing. There’s only 8 million people in this city, realistically what are the odds, not very good I might say. And realistically, what are the odds I hate you? Very good I might say.

…You are a hipster on the L train coming in from the burg and are reading Bukowski, wearing an army green jacket, messed up hair with a two day old beard and have gone 3 days without showering. Could you be any more cliché? Yes actually you can by wearing black chuck taylors. You are no longer creative or original when you look like every other emo 20 something whose life is just so hard and tragic because you over analyze every little detail of your self indulgent life and every little detail of my hate.

…You issue a number for waiting in line at saaaay, the DMV, the number you issue is 763 and you are now serving number 4. Why are you still even open? You are giving a false sense of hope to the 761 Mexicans waiting in line. And why is everyone at the DMV Mexican? I have no problem with Mexicans, but they are disproportionately represented every time I’m there wasting away my youth just to have my picture taken and just to hate you.

…You are waiting for your number to be called at the DMV and you wait until the next number is called to finally go up to the counter. So you’re number 4, they call number 4, you sit, they call number 4, you sit, they call number 4 you sit. Frustrated, they move on, they call number 5, I go to the counter, then you come up and say, I’m number 4 you called number. I’m sorry lady but when they call your number for 5 minutes, and you don’t show up, well your window has passed and my hate has started.

…You are an old lady and smell like moth balls. I think someone stored you in the attic or basement all summer along with a bag of moth balls. I’m wondering if moth balls are still even in existence and where you managed to find such items. Has technology not advanced enough to rid the world of moth balls forever? Have you not advanced enough to rid the world of my hate?

Tuesday, November 07, 2006

Give me liberty or give me hate

...You are a volunteer poll worker. You are no younger than 97 and think you know everyone that is there to vote, but then you ask for ID and don't understand alphabetical order, meaning can't check off that a person has voted or that a person has hated.

...You are a "leading" anti-gay activist yet you pay for gay sex and have an alleged meth habit. So let me get this straight (pun intended), you are the founder of one of the largest cults in this country, some christian group, you speak out about the sins of them gays, and you are so conflicted and brainwashed that you can't accept who you are so you get high on one of the drugs you claim to fight then pay men to have sex and somehow manage to look people in the eye and tell them they are hated, just like you.

...You are Joe Lieberman. You fucking little mopey republican. You lost the support of your party, but rather than sticking to your ideals and being a man, you abandon your party to keep your job. I guess we know what really matters to holy Joe, only Joe matters, but now, my hate matters.

...You refuse to make election day a national holiday or have it on the weekend or have rolling polls that end today. Hmmm, what better way to keep poor people from voting, make it a Tuesday, they're too busy tied to their minimum wage jobs working 15 hours a day to make the same thing I make in 10 minutes, it's good to be a white male and it's good to be hated.

...You claim to the party of the moral majority, but somehow, you're the party of closeted gays, corrupt politicians, oil barons, war mongers, and the richest people in the country. You are even more hated if you vote for the theives and don't see through their hypocrisy. You don't even have to know how to read to know these guys are in this for themselves and in this for the hate.

...You refuse to vote for raising the minimum wage but feel absolutely no shame in voting for an increase in your 6 figure salary for passing laws that make you even richer. Can we make being a Congressman a volunteer position? I mean you work about 6 days year to debate gay marriage and baseball, send poor kids to die then I vote to hate you.

...You feel you need to make a case that it is okay to torture people. Then when it comes time to pass a bill on this, you having been tortured yourself, decide you'd rather vote for this knowing that it doesn't work, that it violated the constitution that wipes my ass the so called freedom you are protecting, you'd rather vote for that than lose a couple percentage points on a presidential election 2 years away that you are going to lose because you are now hated.

Friday, November 03, 2006

Her name is Rio and she dances by my hate

…You are in an ATM vestibule, you see me fumbling through cards to try and open the magic door, yet you refuse to simply open the door for me. Do you think I really don’t have an ATM card and I’m somehow scamming you into opening the door so that once it’s open I’ll what? rob you of the $40 you just took got? Not to mention it’s broad daylight and there 3 other people fumbling through their pockets looking for their cards trying not to hate you.

…You are talking or giving some kind of lecture and get the little white spittle on the sides of your mouth, then you don’t wipe it off. Why are you foaming at the mouth? I don’t know about anyone else, but if I feel even the slightest bit of frothiness I have the common decency to TCB. When you finally do take the half of second to wipe it off, do me, nay, do us ALL a favor and don’t fling across the room leaving the probable chance that it will make direct contact with skin and direct contact with my hate.

…You are a bicycle delivery guy. You only appear the moment I step off the curb into the street as though you emerged out of thin air. You give a warning sign that mimics the sounds of a pleasant bird, but you, you are not pleasant. You are moving at speeds that challenge the sound barrier, yet somehow manage to carry 7 bags in each arm and a pizza box all the while being hated by me.

…You are driving and see that a person is in the crosswalk with a don’t walk sign and then speed up. So let’s get this straight, you are driving along at a normal pace, you see someone 300 feet ahead of you that will easily make it across the street if only you can maintain the same speed, as would be expected. Instead, you have the genius idea to speed up so that the person barely makes it across. Well, you really showed that person. I mean how dare they attempt to “disrespect” you by walking across the street, it’s time you teach them a lesson with attempted murder and my attempted hate.

…You are too good to take the subway and must take cabs everywhere. What’s the matter you can’t go underground for a few minutes and stand next to the “common folk”? One of them might look at you after all and we wouldn’t want that would we, certainly not. Only the privileged are allowed to look at you or be in your presence, but everyone can certainly hate you.

…You honk your horn in standstill traffic. Hmmm, we’re not moving, how can I get everyone to move because my life is so much more important than anyone else’s. I have an idea, I’ve seen this before, it never seems to work, but I think in this case it just might. I’ll lean on my horn so that everyone in a three block radius can hear. Then when I’m done, I’ll honk it some more and then when 5 minutes have passed and we haven’t moved, I’ll get hated.

...You have an alarm for your car. If there is anything more unnecessary or wasteful on this planet, it’s a car alarm. The first thing a car thief does is disable the alarm, it does absolutely nothing. The only time the alarm even goes off is when someone stands within 3 feet of your car, because apparently now you own the space around car, that’s yours because your 1995 Nissan needs to be protected and my hate needs to be given.