Friday, November 16, 2007

I'm bringing Hating back

...You say “tag you’re it” after we’ve left each other numerous voicemail messages. Holy shit, how clever of you. Actually, you’re not so clever, because you apparently are not listening to the times I call you, 7 AM, 930 PM, 2AM. You see, I have no desire to speak to you, I’m avoiding you, do you think I’m not in my office at 9AM every single day for 7 weeks? Do you think I’m not hating you at 9AM every single day for seven weeks?

...You pick your ears right in front of me during a one on one meeting. Look guy, that’s the one notch south of picking your nose, but then you bring right back up when you fling it across the room and then wipe it on the desk when flinging fails. I didn’t think I’d ever have to be sending out a memo on the proper rules of decorum while engaging in a business meeting, but apparently I do and apparently I hate.

...You are speaking to me in a meeting and suddenly say, “well, now wearing my corporate hat…” They’re giving out hats now? I want you to think back to when you were 12 years old, now think about how you thought you’re life would turn out, you picturing a baseball player, maybe a fireman, Nope you’re a corporate monkey that uses lame ass catch phrases because you have absolutely no original thoughts, but only original hate.

...You make yet another epic movie about some mythical land that will no doubt have a location called mordor. How many more of these mythical movies can be made and why do they all have to 4 hours long? At what point did the Dungeon Master take control of Hollywood, at what point did people stop beating up said Master and at point did I start hating you?

...You actually create a map of Mordor and post it on the internet, then you are one of the hundred thousand other people that copy that map and post it on your own blog that is dedicated to Lord of the Rings or Harry Potter or Cronicles of Narnia or Hating you.

...You are my girlfriend and tell me your list of “free passes”. It isn’t fair that I went first and it also isn’t fair because you’re free passes would actually do it with you. Something tells me that if you walked up to Orlando Bloom or whatever his name is, that he’d be interested, and I’m not just saying this because you’re my girlfriend either, it’s certainly possible. Me, on the other will never have a chance with Shakira or any of the “free passes”. That said, I’m changing mine, here is my official list:

1. The drunk girl that hangs out at the bar down the street
2. The new intern
3. Profile 378292 on Match.com also known by her screen name “cum have some fun”

Now the playing field is level and now I won’t have to hate.

Tuesday, November 13, 2007

All this talk of Blood & Oil, is the cause of all my hating

...You are working at the video game store and ask me if I’m excited about the new “Mario galaxy” game coming out next month. Do I look like the type of person that would be excited about a new video game? I didn’t realize the attire of business suit translated to computer geek, nor did I realize that 30 year olds still play children’s games. So please sir, I’ll take my Guitar Hero III and be one my way; on my way to hate you.

...You immediately try to find fault and discredit a report presentation I’m giving to you, the second I speak. I don’t care that you’re the president of the company, give me at 30 seconds to make my point, but no, this is how you get the upper hand, you put people on the defensive from the get go to take control, I know your game. Just because you look like Statler and Waldorf from the muppets doesn’t give you the right to be a dick, but it does give me the right to hate you.

...You are the person that dials the wrong number, my office number, daily then hangs up. How can you possibly get the same number you are dialing wrong, every single day? Do you even look at what you’re dialing? I know who you are, it’s called caller ID, I’m going to start doing that to you and see what you think about it and then I’ll see what I can hate you about.

...You enter the elevator and say the number of the floor to which you are going. Well apparently I look like I work here don’t I. I didn’t realize they elevator men in non doorman buildings or at all for that matter, they only exist in bad Julia Roberts movies. You didn’t even give me the chance to say what floor you going to, because seeing as I’m standing in front of the buttons, yes I would have been nice, but now that you ASSumed, I can only hate you.

...You are this guy Michael that had my office number before me and apparently gave it out to every telemarketer in existence. I spend half my day picking up the phone, then hanging it right back up, who the fuck signs up for this shit or gives their number out so willy nilly, oh right it’s a work number, a work at which you are no longer employed, a work at which I hate you.

...You pronounce Missouri as Missoura. I know you are the same people that pronounce Louisville as looaville. At what point does the “i” become and “a”? An accent, I understand accents, but this is illiterate, this is retarded and this is hated.

...You are Time Warner Cable. You come to install my cable but then will not run a wire to the bedroom because we didn’t say that initially when moving in. You then send someone out 2 weeks later to run the wire who shows up at 10:30 at night. The wire to bedroom however, gets no reception and of course he has no cable box. I then have to make another appointment to have someone come and drop off the cable box, for which I have to pay $30, even though I offered to pick up the cable box myself. Back to the other TV in living room with the alleged “great” new technology, the cable box rarely works well, cuts out randomly, again I MUST have a “technician” come to the house to change the boxes, however, the technician never shows up and I’m stuck with hating you.

Tuesday, November 06, 2007

I hate because I'm unhappy and I'm unhappy because I hate

...You are in the elevator, it stops at a floor that is not yours, you are standing directly in front of the doors, yet for some reason do not understand that you have to move in order for people to get out. You see people cannot exit unless you move, it’s a pretty basic concept. Here’s another shocking discovery, there are other people on this planet aside from you and one more mind bender, I hate you.

...You recline the seat on an airplane before we the plane even starts moving. I know you’ve flown on a plane before, that is very apparent, I know you know that in two minutes the flight attendant is going to come by and stand next to your seat to give you a half frown, half smile look to guilt you into returning your seat to it’s upright position. I also know that you know you are completely pissing off the person behind you (read ME) because you’ve left a total of 2 inches between me, your seat and my hate for you.

...You have a baby, you go on maternity leave, then you decide you will not return to work, then not 6 months later, you’re hanging out in the office with your screaming baby even though you allegedly quit. Listen, I’ve got nothing against babies, what I am against are parents. You’re the woman that sits in the office next to the copy room, that’s all I know about you, yet for some reason you think I give a shit about your baby? The only cute babies are your own, so please don’t bring that kid in the office like it’s show and tell because all you really get is shown my hate.

...You enter the men’s room to see that all the stall doors are closed, but have the sneaking suspicion that one of those stalls is empty, but only one, the one that is housing me. You attempt to open, it appears to be locked, but you’re not the type of man to give up that easy, so you try again. Still locked. You then have the genius idea that if you push harder it will break the door free, still locked. You then hear cries coming from within telling you to go away like some horrible poltergeist trying to keep you and nature apart, so you push harder thinking this will finally let you into the promised land, but all you find is the promised hate.

...You own and worse yet, wear jorts. Now that summer is over, we’re all in a better position to no longer have to witness the dreaded jean short. But the jort wearers are a rare breed, they jump at the chance to showcase their jorts, a 60 degree day is reason enough to break them out and it’s reason enough to hate you.

...You tell me about your elastic expanding dockers pants. Mister, this isn’t something you want to share with the general public, it’s not like we’re old friends, we have a business relationship, that’s it. Now you’ve crossed the line by telling me that you eat so much that your pants expand to meet your expanding waistline, sort of like MANternity pants. Because of this information, we’ve gone from a business relationship to hating relationship.

...You don’t know the proper ordering when making a sandwich. I pray to god that the tortoise of a sandwich maker in my cafeteria is reading this. Once and for all, the proper order is this, bread with mayo or mustard on BOTH sides, cheese if one desires, then meat, then lettuce then tomato cover with other piece of bread, then cut in half. I don’t know how this is so complicated, but I always seem to end with lettuce and tomato on the bottom or meat, the tomato, then lettuce, then cheese. If you know what I’m talking about then I don’t need to explain, if you don’t know what I’m talking about then you are guilty and you are hated.

Monday, October 15, 2007

All's well that hates well

...You approach an elevator as it opens, the huge green sign of ▲indicates that the elevator is going up, for further confirmation of the direction, there are two individuals in that very same elevator that are carrying wet umbrellas from the rain outside, carrying their mail because they have clearly just come home are now going UP to their apartments, but then you still are not confident, so you ask if it’s going up. Nope, I’m a new service provided by the apartment building, I’m here to appear as though I just arrived home so you don’t feel lonely in the elevator and the other guy is just my associate, we’re training him. You see this is where those 60% rent increases went to and you are where my hate goes to.

...You have an outgoing voicemail message that leaves your name, your title, your department, the company and what appears to be a summary from a Dale Carnegie book. You seem to have left off a few other things, your boss’ name, your first born’s name, your childhood pet’s name, your year of graduation, not college, but high school. You see the trend here? If I’m calling you, I know who you are, everyone calling you, knows who you are and no one cares that you’re a “Managing Director” but everyone cares that I hate you.

...You are Time Warner Cable company. On your monthly bill you have the customer service number listed once, in fine print on the back of the bill in a faint grey color that can barely be seen. So this is the deterrent? Don’t worry because the cable won’t work at least once a week, so I’ll have that number on speed dial. The number that I call and hear an elaborate automated voice system that allegedly recognizes voice but never understands what I say. I then enter my account number so that once I finally get to a person, I will have the account number handy to tell the operator again, and so that when I’m transferred 7 times, I will have the account number handy each and every time so I can hate you.

...You work for the Time Warner Cable company. You come to my apartment during the hours of 8 AM and 11PM only to install half of what I want and ensure that it doesn’t work properly. Cable guy comes to the apartment, installs the high definition cable, the reception is not in high definition, but you refuse to help. You install cable in the living room, then when you are complete I ask you if you need help moving furniture to install cable in the bedroom, you refuse to run a wire to the bedroom, why? Because it’s not in the work order. You’re here, you have 100 ft of wire, you have a drill and staple gun, I’m offering an extra 40 bucks to do it, so get to it and I’ll get to hating you.

...You serve mushrooms that somehow look like a dead bat. I’m not sure how this came to be, or how it’s even possible, but this mushroom is scaring me. Picture diving into your lunch only to find a deformed winged mushroom that’s about 6 inches wide. I just assumed this was some formerly live animal of sorts so I had to try it only to find out it was a fungus and it was a hate.

...You ask me to stop by your office when I have chance. How about a topic? Because I know damn well the second I walk into your hell hole, you’re going to want to talk about something that’s in my office, then I have to come back to my office to get it. You see the situation here? If you just tell me from the get go what you need then from the get go, I can hate you.

Thursday, October 11, 2007

Put me in coach, I'm ready to hate

...You are Budget rental. You give me a tractor trailer when all I wanted to rent was a 10 foot truck. I’m moving a couch, a table and a dresser, but now I have to hull some freight with this thing. I don’t care that I get it for the same price as 10 foot truck, I rented a 10 foot truck because that’s all I needed and that’s all I wanted, but you now have given me the pleasantry of driving a big rig around the city all day and the pleasantry of hating you.

...You are Budget rental. You ask me for my receipt from getting gas to prove that I filled the tank. I must be Sir Isaac Newton because I am the only person that can understand when a tank reads “FULL” it means that it is filled with gas, what other proof do you need? This is the scam you are running, you need a receipt to prove gas was purchased otherwise you will charge $25. Who the fuck keeps a gas receipt? The person that gets the hate.

...You are delivering my new TV and take it out to set it up only to find that you don’t have the screws for the stand, you then return to the store and come back with the screws, except you brought the wrong screws, yet again, so now you have to go back to the store for a third time. My main question is why would the screws have ever gotten separated from the TV? Ok I can buy your reasoning that you tested the TV in the store….kind of, but how do you bring the wrong screw twice? How do you get hated twice?

...You are delivering my new TV and as you are leaving you tell me to keep the box for a few days, just in case. Just in case of what? First you’re shady by this whole screw issue for the stand, then you tell me to keep the box “just in case”. Dude you’re starting to piss me off. I buy a brand new TV for pretty penny and you’re telling me keep the box just in case? How about I throw away the box and tell you to keep the hate.

...You don't like my previous four hates, well listen, keeping the hate bottled up about an annoying move is frustrating, so I had to vent and you had to read, so now sit back, and enjoy yoruself some freshly minted hate of you.

...You call and leave a voicemail saying, I have a question for you, can you please call me back. FUCK. Ask me your question in the voicemail people so I can be prepared to answer it. This is the equivalent of calling a meeting to have another meeting to ask you a question. It’s like the whole world has time to waste except for me. It may be just me, but I thought everyone seeks the point of rest, so therefore you get what you have to get done the quickest so then you can rest and then I can hate you.

...You call a meeting to simply pass out a spreadsheet that you already emailed to everyone at the meeting, then ask us to answer your questions AFTER the meeting. What is it with people, there is nothing that can’t be accomplished over email, please stop wasting my time so I can get back to my computer, back to blog and back to hating you.

...You color code spreadsheets. Either you are a brilliant genius and feel you need to explain things in the absolute simplest form for anyone to understand or you borderline Forrest and are so incompetent and slow that you have color code or the world is just such a complicated place. So you wasted 7 hours color coding a spreadsheet that didn’t even need to be created, the spreadsheet also having taken 7 hours is now a 14 hour project only to get to the point where you can start a series of meetings about more meetings to fine tune my hate for you.

...You use a wheelchair that beeps when it’s in reverse. You might be so fat that you now need a wheelchair to get around, but you’re not a mac truck, we see you. The point of the beep on a large truck is because it is in fact a large TRUCK, not person, the driver of said truck has several blind spots and to hit someone, is to kill someone. You are in a chair that moves, you can simply, turn your head and presto you see any obstructions and then you see hate.

...You say your destination floor as you press the button in an elevator. I know, I know, this complex, so difficult that saying the number aloud to yourself helps you remember and it helps you actually press the button. Us regular folk in the intellectual world, don’t need narration of our actions, we either have something called an inner monologue, common sense or (my personal favorite) hate for you.

Friday, October 05, 2007

Hatred is a virtue

...You are sending me Hate O Grams waiting for the next installment. Listen people, I have lots o shit going on right now, have some patience. All I ask is that you give me a few more days and then I will give you a few more hates.

Thursday, September 27, 2007

Hate's the boss

...You show up at my office like clockwork everyday at 1130 and then again at 2. Talk about absolute worst with timing. Have you ever dealt with people before? No of course not, that’s why your 40 and single. You see, 11:30 is right before lunch, people kinda want to finish up what they were doing and not deal with people until they get their lunch. At 2:00 the food coma sets in, people want a few minutes (read: an hour) to veg at their desk, surf a little internets, do some mindless work and then hate you.

...You hire someone to replace my old boss, but take 1.5 years to do so. So for the past year and a half, I’ve been doing the job of two, I’ve been doing all the work, doing all the presentations and getting all the credit. Now you bring in some jamoke that knows about a fraction of what I know, but makes at least twice as much as me. You hire this tool to just sit in his office, probably blogging about how he has this great job where he’s overpaid and some kid is doing all his work and giving him all his hate.

...You are my new boss (in title only) and when meetings are scheduled in the morning, you show up literally 30 seconds before. For an 8 AM meeting you show up at 7:59:30. yes that leaves 30 seconds to prepare, not to mention you had no involvement whatsoever in the preparation for the meeting, you didn’t ask me to give you any update on topics for the meeting so naturally you are going sit there like a useless pile, while I run the meeting. You do realize that you are being watched through a magnifying glass, if you can not show more value than me, then you will be shown hate.

...You concede the lead in a meeting that you are supposed to be leading to the guy 15 years younger than you and sit silently in the corner like the dunce that you are. You interject once in the meeting at the most inopportune time saying nothing of value or relevance, you are then given a look of death followed by a look of pity at which point I jump in to save your ass, but I most certainly do not save my hate.

...You have nothing to say so you begin a sentence as though you are about to make a point, then about halfway through the sentence, you fade out and then pause for someone else to interject and say something that might be meaningful. Once someone says something, you confirm it by saying, “right” or “exactly”. You think that people don’t notice this but they do, they know you are useless and they know you are hated.

...You are my new boss and have the same last name as me. Not only are you a complete waste of space, but you have the same last name as me and we're not in IT. I’ve worked very hard to make a name for myself and all you’re doing is tearing that apart. The most value you have added is responding to everyone’s stupid jokes about us having the same last name and you can’t even get that right, you can only get hate.

Wednesday, September 26, 2007

You take my hate away

...You are the people that can’t seem to make flat front pants whose pockets don’t stick out. Yes I get it, I have what one might call larger legs, but I can assure you when you run 5 or so miles a day, you’re legs tend to be a bit on the muscular side, but that doesn’t I have to accept that my pockets will stick out or else I have to wear fat boy pants, now does it? All you need to do is slightly change the angle of the pocket and presto, no more sticking out and no more hating of you.

...You sign your name to an email using only your initials and yet somehow still spell this wrong. Apparently knowing three letters is just too difficult. The worst part is that the letters aren’t even close on the keyboard, so typos are not an excuse, it’s as though you had to consciously think about the letters of your name and then actually get that wrong after which you actually get yourself hated.

...You an order of coffees on the counter and throw a tray at me when I order multiple coffees at starbucks and ask that my coffees be placed IN a tray so that I might be able to carry the scolding hot beverages. Instead of filling my order and placing the cups into the tray, you put the coffees on the counter and throw the tray at me. it’s like that extra work of having to aim the coffees when you place them down is just too strenuous for you. God forbid we make your life any more complicated than it has to be. Why don’t you try drinking some of that liquid crack you serve, then maybe you’d get off your fat ass and only then, maybe you’d get off my hate.

...You sit directly behind me in a movie theater and insist on continually kicking my seat. Thank you, I’ve been looking to employ someone like you to come to my house and kick my seat while I’m trying to watch TV, I’m also looking for someone to do the same while I’m at the office. This would really make my day a little easier and little more pleasant, better yet, what do you say I come to your house and your office and continually kick your seat? But no, I won’t do this, I’ll just turn around and give you a stare, then give you a hate.

...You are annoyed with someone either talking in a movie, walking 7 people horizontally on a sidewalk, paying with pennies or even the salmon like Mexican guy trying to enter a subway car before anyone exits, and rather than speak up to any of these offenders, you huff under your breathe and give them the staring of a lifetime, you know the evil eye, then you run home and write about it in your blog thinking that the offenders may someday read said blog and correct their behavior, but instead everyone just remains hated.

Wednesday, September 19, 2007

Everybody wants to hate the world

...You provide me with a detailed play by play of your weekend hook up first thing Monday morning. Well thank you beast woman, my life is so much more full now that I have your grotesque horror stories of you fornicated with some poor unfortunate intoxicated soul. I would have to say he must have a case against you in some sort of harassment or rape suit because no man in good conscience would dare go for the ride with you; he would only hate you.

...You create a problem at work, I inform you of said problem and you reply with “no worries”. No worries? No none for you apparently, but you my friend created a mess. Every time you fuck something up, I have to fix it and every time you do something, you fuck it up which means I’m always fixing you’re shitty job and it means I’m always hating you.

...You hear people at work down the hall talking and just can’t help yourself but to interject your dumb comments into the conversation. All right, you’re not even in the eyesight of anyone speaking, so now you are just an errant voice, except that your comments are not in any way funny and have very little to no relevance to the conversation at hand, it’s merely a feeble attempt on your part to attract attention to yourself because your such a beast that no one likes you, they only hate you.

...You have sandwiches set up in some sort of mass feeding area such as a conference and place the bread after the meat. Silly as this may sound, wait until you’re at some buffet table trying to make a sandwich when you come across the some may and mustard, then you get to the meat after which lies the lettuce and tomato and finally the bread. Who concocted such a scheme, someone must have been filming this because the chaos that ensued was nothing short of hated.

...You are participating in a conference “break out” session where a simple discussion is being had and are taking vigorous notes throughout. I wasn’t aware that we’ll be tested on the material afterwards. You know I can understand writing down a couple of insightful things that were said, but to periodically recap to the table before we move on to the next topic is nothing short of hated.

...You are behind me walking into a store, as I pass through the door, I hold the door open behind me to let you in, I head to the counter, you follow, but then you don’t stop behind me, you go directly to the front of the line as though you are exempt from line waiting. Not only are you blatantly cutting me in line, but you then deny that I even held the door for you. You’re either delusional or fucking nuts, in either case please go ahead of me I’d rather live today and I’d rather hate today.

Monday, September 17, 2007

Now that's what I call hate Volume 243

...You tell me that you had floor seats to an Interpol concert and then after I tell you the location of my seats you tell me you wouldn’t have even gone if they were that bad. That bad? At least I had a seat and didn’t have to stand through the shitty version of mazzy star that opened. If there is any band where I wouldn’t expect to find douchebags that brag about having a ticket that cost $10 more than mine, it would be at Interpol, but instead I found you, and then I found hate.

...You repeatedly call me chief during an afternoon of watching football at a local watering hole. Getting chief’ed once is bad enough, but to abuse such a word is a disgrace and an insult. I’ve been chief’ed once before….ONCE, you don’t want to know what happened to that guy? (read: nothing) Grown men, do not call other grown men chief, you dig? Perhaps you think I am younger than you because I look like I’m 20, even so, don’t assume or I’ll hate.

...You created the Dolce & Gabana ads for any men’s magazine. I’d really like to know why someone seems to think that in a men’s magazine we should find pictures of a naked man in what appears to be a cod piece. This apparently is how cologne is sold. This is how D&G is attracting men to buy cologne, I see. I completely understand the dynamic of really selling to men’s girlfriends and also to gay men, but I really must say I don’t want to be reading an article about politics or sports and then flip the page to full page cock ad and full page hate

...You are the Richard Marx clone at my office. You are the same guy that has a mix tape of love songs, one of course including Hold On to the Night. By mix tape I of course mean an actual tape and not a playlist. If you still look like Richard Marx, then you still only have a tape deck. I’m not exactly sure what the worst part of this situation is, you looking like Richard Marx, me knowing who Richard Marx is, me knowing a song by Richard Marx, you now singing that song in your head, me hating you.

...You say chocolate is addictive. No you’re just fat. You see most people have the ability to know when they’re full, and that’s when they know to stop eating. You on the other hand, make any and every excuse to eat. Just because the chocolate industry funded a study to prove the health benefits of chocolate, doesn’t make it a health food and it doesn’t make it an all you can eat food, it only makes hate for you.

Friday, September 14, 2007

When you wish upon a hate

...You send me an email on Saturday. Well hey everyone, look at how this guy is working so hard, he even has to come in Saturday, he’s sacrificing his weekend while you’re out at the beach having a grand ol time. If you’re coming in to the office on Saturday consists of sending emails, well then you have no point in being in the office on Saturday. You are sending the Saturday emails for sole purpose of showing people that you’re at work and no one else is. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. In fact, I’m starting doubt the point of your employment all together. If you can’t get your job done during the week, then I call you inefficient and then I call you hated.

...You give me cuff links for Christmas and then say you will get them engraved for me, but then reneg on your offer. So the cuff links are definitely nice, can’t wait to wear them, oh you’ll get them engraved for me? That sounds nice. Oh you will take them and then pick them up and then give them back to me? Even better. This all sounded so nice in theory, way back at Christmas of 2005. We’re now fast approaching Christmas ’07, no engraving, no cuff links, only hate.

...You ask if someone knows fashion, then wonder if they ever heard of joe boxer. I didn’t realize knowing a brand of underwear required fashion industry credentials. That’s like asking if someone has ever heard of Levi Jeans. Are you a professional athlete? No? Oh well then you probably never heard of the Yankees. Do you have your own blog? No? Oh well then you probably don’t know that I hate you.

...You see a preview at the movies for a scary movie and scream at the scary parts of the preview. Did I mention this is a preview? The scene is not even set up yet, you don’t even know the story or what’s going on, just someone getting stabbed on the screen. I’m actually scared to see you in everyday life, how do you cope with anything because I’m not so sure how a preview translates into fright, but I’m certain how you translate into hate.

...You respond to me saying I am going to be out sick, by saying ok. A “hope you feel better” would be nice. Of course we both know I’m normally playing hooky, but this time I’m puking out of my ass, a little sign of being a human from time to time would be nice. It’s like you just assume I’m out interviewing because god forbid you understand that I actually have a case of the Montezuma’s revenge because then I wouldn’t be able to hate you.

...You have a jack and jill wedding shower. Let’s not get started on the annoyance of all the wedding events that take place, but hey, I’m a guy so most of them are for women, that is until now. What kind of loser asshole man decided or gave into his soon to be torturer that now instead of the women gathering to exchange houseware, the men should show up. This is for what reason now? Oh right just of the many many reasons I hate you.

Wednesday, September 12, 2007

Dude looks like a hate

...You wait for a subway car to empty, then you consciously move to stand right in front of the door before people get on. You are certainly up to some tom foolery here. You make everyone think you’re actually getting off the subway, but instead, you pull the wool over our eyes and stop right in your tracks which happens to be right in the tracks of everyone else so now we have to huff at your annoyingness instead of telling you out loud that we hate you.

...You are a chick in porn and are wearing nicotine patches. Not to say I regularly watch porn, but I were to see such an instance well then I must say, there is nothing sexier than a woman with a couple of nicotine patches. Oh wait, there is one thing sexier, and that’s a woman wearing a couple of nicotine patches, PLUS having tan lines where former patches once resided. I thought skinamax had a little more class than this for their soft core. Yes, I should be hating myself for watching soft core, but instead I’m hating you.

...You are a damn fly that flies around my head so I wave my arms trying to get it out of the way at which point I look insane. You only show your face when in public places, such as a park, on the street, the beach or on occasion while driving. You are wily adversary escaping nature’s fly swatter and all the while creating the illusion to onlookers that insanity is present and hatred is you.

...You wear gloves while lifting at the gym. I must be looking at magnus sir magnussan von magnusville. I swear I saw you on the world’s strongest man competition, you were the most gentlemanly of all competitors, after lifting a 500 pound boulder your hands were still as smooth as silk, oh wait, I’m confusing you with someone that actually needs gloves, not you that only lifts on machines, machines that have a spongy grip texture to protect and machines that have me to hate you.

...You are working furiously on your novel and/or screen play while at starbucks or any other coffee shop. We get it, you’re an “artiste” we understand. I think that was trendy circa 93. You know you get your extra large mocha cocoa latte frapalingo, you wear thick frame glasses and you sit with a scarf in the middle of July to open your macbook, and then only use Microsoft word to type these three words of your screenplay: I am hated.

...You buy a mac computer. I know the deal, you think you’re making a statement about yourself, you’re not a part of corporate America, you’re an individual, a person that makes up his own mind without “the man” trying to tell him what to do. Then you walk down to your starbucks which has become so corporate that’s it’s okay to go there again because that makes it ironic, then you sit with all your other macbook using friends while you attempt to act bohemian but instead only act hated.

...You are a street rapper. I don’t mean a person that raps on the street as a talent, I mean the guy that may or may not be wearing headphones that walks down the street at an angry pace, droppin some lyrics on anyone within ear shot. I know you’ve experience the 5’9” man wearing a XXXXXXXL T-shirt with some sort of red hat that is lookin pretty hardcore and uses the N word no less than 14 times as you pass and as you hate.

Monday, September 10, 2007

A hate in the hand is worth two in the bush

...You are suited up for the tour de france to cycling over the Brooklyn Bridge. You are such a douche. Not only are you over prepared to bike through a tourist trap, but you get pissed, some would say violent even, at those innocently biking over a leisurely pace. Of all the places and all the bridges in the city, you have to bike over this bridge on a beautiful holiday weekend? It’s like purposely set yourself up to piss yourself off and set yourself up to be hated.

...You use the word ‘bad’ to express that you think something is cool. Well holy shit, it looks like someone finally invented a time machine because it apparently must be 1985 again. Check out these new parachute pants, they’re so boss. You must be wearing the parachute pants with your member’s only jacket and a polo shrit with the collar turned up, if you’re feelin a little crazy, you can wear a head band, a tiger striped headband. When you wear these clothes, you’ll make sure they are all bright colors that don’t match and then you won’t just be bad, but you’ll also be hated.

...You stop and talk to someone in the cafeteria and keep them chatting for what seems like hours. Oh please go right ahead and interrupt my lunch with your nonsensical dribble about whether we should have 7 meetings about nothing or 8. Yes of course this is much more important than ensuring I am fed, because scheduling a pointless meeting is a much better contribution to my day and a much better contribution to my hate.

...You are a woman wearing a low cut top to display your hairy boobs. I know this sounds incredibly juvenile, to the point that one would question the very existence of said hairy boobs, but I shit you not. On a rather humid summer day, I was commuting home from the office via subway. I was standing, hanging on to the rail, when I looked down and witnessed one of the more frightening scenes I’ve seen all year. It was a fairly rotund middle aged woman, wearing what seemed like a V-neck shirt, however while seated it just appeared to be a large mess, but between those two mounds, was a hairy situation, literally. I’ve got a bit of the ‘ol chest hair myself, but this my friends was a woman, this my friends was substantially more than mine and this my friends, was hate.

...You are a cackling group of middle aged sheltered ignorant women that have never tried Thai food before except for one that had it once. You know this isn’t some novelty store where you can come in and look at vibrators and giggle to each other. This is where us hungry people like to get takeout and in order to eat we have to order and in order to order you have to move your fat asses away from the register. If I never encounter another group of large bottomed, lesbian hair-cutted, broadway show touring, fanny pack and acid wash jean wearing middle aged pseudo dyke women, it will be too soon. In the meantime I’ll have to settle for hating you.

...You have a striking resemblance to sloth from goonies and are lifting at the gym, when you see me laugh at something unrelated, you walk up to me, bump into me and say “outta my way FAGGOT”. Well excuse me shrek, you are grotesque, of course people are going to stare and snicker behind your back, that’s why you take steroids I get that. But listen, your repressed homoerotic fantasies should be made clear at the gym, you are so bustedly ugly that not one person would look at you in any way other than one of curiosity, the same way people paid to see the elephant man and the same way people come here to hate you.

Thursday, September 06, 2007

The hate that Ruth built

...You are an innocent bystander in the stands at a sporting event when you see people wandering aimlessly trying to find their seats and decide to help them. I didn’t realize that the stadium has now appointed a concierge for each section, why don’t you mind your own damn business. You seem to not realize that amidst the boring sport of baseball, there is a little bit of side entertainment, namely the three fat ladies that have tried to sit in every single seat except their actual seats until you came along and got hated.

...You at a sporting event where you are routing for the visiting team while sitting among fans of the home team and feel the need to obnoxiously cheer and applaud by yourself when your team scores. Well look at what we have here, this guy wants to let everyone know that he’s a fan of the other team. Not only does he want to let us know, but he insists upon making all this noise when his team scores so that everyone around him wants to fight him but has to settle for hating him.

...You propose marriage on the jumbotron. Wow, now that is an original idea, where did you come up with that one? Not only is it unique, but it’s classy too. In my 30 years on this earth, I’ve heard so many women say how much they have always wanted their proposal to be announced on a giant screen at a sporting event and then have their ring hidden in a hot dog. I know that trailer will be a rockin tonight and I know I’ll be hatin you now.

...You show up to baseball game wearing a classic polo shirt with a sweater over your shoulders. Really? Wow, this is straight out of pretty in pink, I can’t believe I’m sitting next to Blaine. I’m thinking that you’re a little confused as to what type of sporting event you’re attending, let’s clear the air, there is no actual polo match here, no horsies, just a bunch of white trash, wearing lots of man jewelry, drinking lots of beer, all for the hate of you.

...You aggressively clap your hands at a sporting event as if this will somehow inspire your team to score. There’s certainly applause, that’s your reward for doing something good, but then there’s APPLAUSE which is found when your team has 2 strikes on the opponent with 2 outs or when there’s 15 seconds left in 3 point game or when your team has just gotten an interception. It’s the point at which you’re doing all you can to help the home team along, the ferocious hand clap will certainly intimidate any opposing team and will certainly win you the title of most hated of the day.

...You are doing anything to get the attention of the jumbotron at a sporting event. You’re the person that goes out of your way to be seen on the jumbotron, the older guy dancing between every inning or time out, the guy that brings that clever sign using the letters from a TV station or the person wearing that crazy hat. That’s just some good ‘ol fashion fun and some good ‘ol fashion hate.

Tuesday, September 04, 2007

Are you gonna hate my way

...You are “protesting” something you support. This is a more recent phenomenon where people go to protest the war or the sitting president, which by all means is expected, but then oddly, there is somewhat of a mystery where people show up to these ‘protests’ to do what I don’t really know, but it appears as though they are protesting the protesters or perhaps protesting their own support? This is a fairly ridiculous concept given that the people to whom the president is speaking are deemed to be supporters already so why are you outside with placards showing your support, when in actuality you should be at home getting hated?

...You are a ski nazi. Yes a little off season, but think back if you will, think back to early February, you’re up in Vermont, you have a house with a few people, you stay up the night before having a few beverages, it’s cold outside, you want to sleep in a little, even if it’s just to 8 or 9, hit the mountain by 11 or so. Nope. Can’t happen with the ski nazi who’s up at 630, fully dressed by 645, clunking around the house in his ski boots by 650, in your room yelling by 655 and hated by 7.

...You call a service provided by a company, diabolical. So they now have a plan for world domination? Do you even know what that means? Do you know how to use a dictionary? I think perhaps you mean abdominal, detestable or deplorable, but diabolical? It is now apparent to me that it is true that you never went to college, I’m even doubting high school. I mean have ever even seen a movie or a cartoon? Perhaps that’s too advanced for your tiny little brain, but the only thing about diabolical that you will see is hate.

...You schedule an interview with me and then show up 20 minutes late. Who the fuck do you think you are? You’re the one that called me to meet, you are the one courting me, yet you can’t even have the decency to show up on time? You’re definitely starting of on the wrong foot here, have you ever heard of first impressions? It’s not all about me impressing you old man, that’s the stone age. I want you to wow me, how’s that for a reverse cliché and how’s that for hating you.

...You are not paying attention to your local starbucks barrista when they are calling out that your order is ready. Its coffee, they’re not baking you a cake, it takes all of about 19 seconds, is that too fucking long for you to pay attention? Now you’re holding up the line so the rest of us drones have to wait even longer for our coffee, but you don’t have to wait to get hated.

...You cc yourself. Better make sure you send that email to yourself, because if you didn’t you might actually have to go into your sent folder to find it. You’re probably the same people that delete every email after they’ve printed it for their paper files. You really haven’t caught on to this whole technology-internet thing have you? It’s little difficult for that tiny brain of your to comprehend, it’s also difficult for that tiny brain of yours to comprehend me hating you.

...You fart in an elevator as you exit and I enter. Great! Now I’m riding solo here and everyone that gets on at a different floor will think I’m the culprit. I can’t believe you just gave me a leave behind. What an awkward moment when I’m standing there smelling that rotten odor, knowing it was not me yet other people are now staring me down because they can’t believe I would do such a thing. Now I have to somehow start a conversation and then somehow convince them it was not me. This is typically done under my breathe while I hate you.

Thursday, August 30, 2007

Crazy little thing called hate

...You say that if it rains on your wedding its good luck. Let’s put this in the things you say to people when something really shitty happens. Everyone knows that it’s bullshit, it’s raining on your wedding day, that fucking sucks, the day pretty much ruined and that’s about 100 grand down the drain. I’d like to commission a study as to if marriages are more successful if it rains on the wedding day. Why would I want to do such thing? What type of value would this provide? Well for starters this will allow me to hate you.

...You have bumper stickers displaying that your child made the honor roll. Hey complete strangers, look at how allegedly smart my child is compared to yours. I mean it doesn’t matter that straight A’s in art makes the honor roll and straight B’s in calculus and physics does not, but either way, you’re 45 and bragging about how well a 13 year old did in school, yeah for you and yeah for hate.

...You ask me to wish you luck. That kind of takes the whole luck out of it doesn’t it? Obviously this is not a task that I deem worthy of needing luck and you cannot possibly be that self conscious or insecure that you need luck just to get through your daily routine. If that’s the case, then I must be a fucking genie getting through my daily routine of hating you.

...You walk into a fairly empty movie theater and choose the seat directly in front of me. Its as though you go out of your way to be annoying, the odds of you randomly choosing the seat right in front of me are so slim, you had to do it purpose. You must have said to yourself, hmm, that guy picked a great seat, I like the way he thinks, now all I have to do is choose the one directly in front of him and I’ll get a better viewing of the movie. Well indeed you did get a better viewing, but I got a better hating.

...You are yet again another anti-gay republican that turns out to be a gay man. At what point do we just assume that if you say you are anti-gay and you’re republican, well then you are in reality, gay. Hey I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with being gay, I’m saying there’s everything wrong with hating gay people and gay rights when you are gay and I’m saying there’s everything right with hating you.

...You do not see the urgent need to have bathroom stalls that go to the floor. If we had bathroom stall walls that went all the way to the floor, we wouldn’t have a problem with some people that have a “wide stance” when shitting or men tapping a foot to signal their need for a penis in their mouth. While we’re at it, how about adding a partition between the urinals, this might help put an end or dramatically reduce getting George Michaeled in the men’s room and reduce my hate of you.

…You invented the pile driver. Picture it, two 300 pound men standing next to each other, one man picks up the other man, turns him upside down thereby allowing each man’s face to be in the other’s crotch/anal region. This really is quite the “sport” gentlemen. Its okay if you like each other, be free, but what you don’t need to do is pretend as though you are not by putting on a show for everyone so that we can hate you.

Tuesday, August 28, 2007

Cum on feel the hate

...You are in line at Starbucks with your best girlfriend and you are chatting it up each speaking for 20 minutes straight without pause, so that when it is your turn to order, you do not hear the barrista, you ignore to the point that the barrista is getting angered, you actually have angered the most cheerful people on the planet other than the hypnotized Disney workers, yet you still ignore. You ignore them to the point that I am so angry because you are disrupting the flow of the all these other patrons waiting properly in line just to hate you.

...You see that I’ve managed to leave wet wipe wrappers sprinkled throughout the men’s room to give you a hint of their existence. I’m not going to come right out and say it, but I am going to leave them lying around, I’ll talk about them at lunch, I’ll send emails to the department mentioning that they’re on sale and include a list of locations that might sell said wet wipes. Personal hygiene is an important issue for me, your ass not smelling is important to me and hating you is important to me.

...You are attending the weekly birthday celebration in the office and when the cake is cut, you say, oh I’ll only have a sliver. There are so many issues going on here, I don’t know where to begin. First, the birthday celebrations have gotten a little excessive, but okay, I can deal. Second, you don’t need any cake, a sliver or a wedge, so please do us all that favor and not eat a thing. Finally, you make that poor person cutting the cake fulfill some special request of cutting you a tiny piece of cake, then after you inhale it in 2.2 seconds, you ask for another sliver, 2.2 seconds later, you’re on to a third, then fourth sliver, before you know it, you’re licking other people’s forks asking for your seventh sliver and then I have to give you a hate.

...You are salary.com and run an online survey studying the amount of time people waste at work. So your survey results said that 6 of 10 workers admit to wasting time on the internet and feel they are underpaid. Hmmmm. We are brainiacs aren’t we? The only people responding to an online survey about wasting time are people that are actually online wasting time, think about it. The only margin for error is the small percentage of people online hating you.

...You have a bumper sticker that says, I’d rather be…insert stupid comment. So you’d rather be at the beach than sitting in traffic? Really? That surprises me because I thought that people enjoy wasting hours on end in pointless traffic or perhaps I have you confused with the I’d rather be hunting people, or the I’d rather be golfing people, because surely those are less entertaining than traffic, but not as entertaining as hating you.

Monday, August 27, 2007

Don't stop til you hate enough

...You are this wonderful little man. I don't know how I can go on hating when I can just go down to the Union Sq. subway station and view some mini MJ.




Friday, August 24, 2007

Friday I'm in hate

...You give a farewell tour then proceed to tour for the next 15 years, every single year. I love this, farewell tour this summer, cancel all your plans, pay top dollar because you may never see us again. I recall my first experience with such chicanery, the year was 1993 and the band was the Cure. They were embarking on their first of many many final tours. Fast forward 15 years and I’ve seen the Cure at least 4 times since then and now they’re recording a new album, well lookie here, I’m recording a new hate.

...You are The Cure. Please dude give the brooding depressed guy routine a break, what are you 50? The only more pathetic person is Madonna still parading herself in underwear at 50. Madonna has actually now become the old lady Molly Shannon played on SNL proclaiming how great she looks at 50. But at least she’s not pretending to be emo. What is this guy so depressed about anyway? He sounds like a 50 year high school kid sitting in his bedroom drawing pictures of dead people and reading about hated people.

...You have personalized license plate. Are you really that desperate for attention? You’re what, 60 and you’re plate says, QTPI, I hate to tell you, but I don’t think so. How about the dude with the red sports car with a plate reading, howudoin, the quintessential douchebag plate. I have a new quintessential plate and it reads ih8u.

...You write on the label of a package of peanuts that this food product has been processed on a machine that processes peanuts. Really? I better not eat the fucking bag of peanuts then should I. Is there really this much confusion in the world that people buying a bag of peanuts need to be reminded that the product contains peanuts so if you’re allergic stay away? Was there really a person that bought peanuts, that questioned if the product contained peanuts? Is there really a need or reason for me to hate you?

...You tell my colleague that you hope I choke on my lunch and die. Really? First of all, I’m surprised he could understand you because you speak with marbles in your mouth. Second of all, I simply am trying to get a stupid invoice paid, I sent it to you 2 months ago, you said I needed additional approval, being a corporation, that process took 2 months, now I send it back to you for payment and you say it’s missing something else. All I wanted to know is why you didn’t tell me that 2 months ago when I first tried to get this stupid invoice paid. I have a pretty good reason why, because you are so fucking lazy all you wanted to do was get it off your desk, then, I called you out, so now your pissed and want me to die and now you’re hated.

...You are speaking at a conference and talk about how rich you are. Hey look at me you 20 something year olds, I’m 60 and I’m rich. Is this the way you choose to make yourself feel better and how you overcompensate for your shortcomings? I can understand that at my age, you broke, you were living in a one room apartment with cockroaches and look at you now. Yippie, hooray for you. I’m so proud that over a period of 40 years you managed to finally get a job, so shut up and ask your wife to give you some attention, because all I’m giving you is hate.

Wednesday, August 22, 2007

Merchant of Hate

...You see a friend of yours near the front of a Starbucks line that’s 20 people deep and walk up to cut in line. Not to sound like I’m 8 years old, but perhaps you didn’t notice that we’re all in line here, knowing someone at the front doesn’t entitle you to get your coffee before me. I know the barrista, so by your logic, I never have to wait in line, but no, I wouldn’t do that, because I’m trying to live in a society of civility, a world with rules and a world with hate.

...You are at the gym on a machine next to me and while you are huffing and puffing you turn to face me breathing your nasty stank breathe on me. Have you heard of brushing your teeth? Mouthwash? Or even a freaking mint? I don’t need to be working out and then suddenly start to feel a man breeze on my face followed by the stench of garbage that is your breathe. When working out, you look straight ahead, never breathe to your sides and always hate.

...You see me eating a muffin or bagel and make a comment about my eating of carbs. Yes how observant of you, I AM eating carbs, they taste good, plus, perhaps you have not noticed, but I am thin, you are not. Do the math. Somehow your whole no carb diet isn’t exactly working out for you now is it? While we’re on this subject, let’s try to refrain from sticking your big nose into my business. I’m eating, leave me the fuck alone, keep your mouth shut and let me just hate you.

...You ask me my favorite baseball team I tell you, then you proceed to talk shit to me every time I see you. You know guy, I don’t really like baseball THAT much and even if I did, I’m not a shit talker, you say whatever you want because it’s pretty pointless to act as though you are actually on the team and that I actually play or even care. You have had absolutely nothing to do with “your” team’s win, except contributing to the owner’s profits by going to one game. You do not play, therefore you do not talk shit and therefore I hate.

...You are the guest that wouldn’t leave. It’s a party, you come by for a few hours, you hang out have a few drinks, then it starts to wind down a bit, the party thins out. You are having a good time so you don’t want to take off just yet. The party continues to wind down, the music is now off, the host is rummaging through the kitchen for some leftover food and 2 drunk people are passed out on the couch, but you persevere. You won’t give up, you want to be the last man standing. It’s now 4 in the morning, the host has gone to bed, the lights are out, the only light to be seen is from the TV so you pick up a magazine, grab some chips and pull up a chair because you’re just getting warmed up and have long been getting hated.

...You are away for the night, but fail to turn off your alarm clock. Now I have to suffer all the next morning while you’re away and the alarm’s a ringing. You see, when you wake up in the morning to an alarm, you have three options, snooze, reset and the illusive OFF. Knowing that you will not be present in the future, one would expect an off setting, but on the contrary, yours is reset leaving a little piece of you for everyone to enjoy the following Saturday morning. The only problem is the everyone is just me and the hate is just you.

Monday, August 20, 2007

I'm working my way back to you hate

...You like to go out to family style restaurants. If I want to share my food with everyone at the table, I’d eat at home. The whole point of going out to eat is to eat like you can’t eat at home. You see I can make a large amount of pasta at home and then share. What I can’t do or am unwilling to do, is cook 4 separate entrees for 4 different people, so we go out to eat, let someone else do it and let you get hated.

...You are the person answering in this conversation. Question: Hey did you try that restaurant on 7th it’s pretty nice in there and the food is good. Answer: oh that place? That place sucks once it got a good review everyone starts talking about it, the place you really want to try is one you never heard of, there’s no sign on the door, there’s no menu, no reservations, in fact I don’t even think there’s a restaurant. Response: oh that took the entire point out of our conversation. Next topic; Q: Hey did you here The Police are doing a reunion tour? A: oh The Police? Yeah they’re so overdone ever since puffy did that song, what you really want to be listening to is this band that is from billyburg, wait, you can’t call it billyburg now because people know what it means, but anyway, this band has no cd’s, their not online, they have no name and they only play live at one of two places, my friend’s sister’s boyfriend’s basement or at this club that only 3 people know. R: You mean it’s 3 guys that jam at home and you that gets hated.

...You say you had a deviated septum and it needs to be operated on, then when the bandages are removed you suddenly have a small nose. What happened to your nose Gonzo? We all know your dirty little secret, there’s no deviated septum, that crook on your face is now gone Ashley Simpson, we know and we hate.

...You read comments on articles online and actually respond to stupid comments people make. You see a comment about the author of an article online that says the aforementioned author likes balls in her face. Juvenile? Absolutely. Funny? A veces (es espanol, look it up). But you take it to a whole other level by responding to the likely 13 year old prankster. This then sets off a series of rants and raves, back and forth of name calling reduced to the eventual point of you being called retarded or gay. Why do you even bother and why do you even care? You’re defending an author that could very well also be 14, just because there was some inspiring advice on feng shui. Do yourself the favor, head over to the hate blog and read about you.

...You are the cleaning lady that throw out my banana. First you stole my gym pass, now this? What next eastern European lady? Let’s set some new ground rules okay, I decide when to throw out rotten fruit, why? Because I’m the decider. One more incident like this and I’ll take away your rubber gloves and replace them with hate.

...You wear so much cologne I can smell you the second you walk into the men’s room. I’m in the stall trying to not allow the wandering foot of the guy that chose the stall next to mine among 4 other empty stalls to touch me, trying to not hear the enlarged prostate man attempt to grunt out a drop of urine, trying not to see the person walking by my stall that peaks into the what seems like 10 inch gap between the door and the wall, trying not to taste the vomit that is slowly rising up my esophagus and trying not to smell the entire bottle of faux D&G cologne you bought from the guy in union square and really trying not to hate you.

Thursday, August 16, 2007

Everybody's hatin for the weekend

...You have a sticker in your back window displaying the college you or a child attend. As your child flunks out of schools the stickers add up, so now you have a window cluttered with stickers of shitty schools that no one has ever heard of, and that no one in their right mind would want to brag about. You’re kid goes to an Ivy league school, ok I can see that. The school won the NCAA, please by all means. But you two community colleges and something that starts with Staten Island and ends in hate.

...You contact me to provide you with consulting advice, I promptly prepare some information for you within 4 or 5 hours, I respond to you that same day trying to discuss this with you, you then disappear for a month. You then call one random morning asking me to meet with you in an hour. Oh look who it is, someone now needs my help and here they are calling me at the last hour, suuuuurrrre I’ll drop everything else I’m doing because you called about something I tried to help you with over a month ago. You know what, I have absolutely nothing else to do in this world than sit around waiting for you. During this whole month, I did nothing, I just waited around on standby hating you.

...You don’t view word documents in “print layout” form. I don’t know why, but I just hate you.

...You are Bloomingdales. You send my monthly statements/bills to an old address, then when I get them after the due date, promptly pay the bill and explain the situation you charge me a late fee, without telling me, then you charge me a late fee on the late fee, without telling me, then you charge me interest and another late fee on the previous late fees. When I finally negotiate a $20 payment to settle everything, I go to submit my payment online after which I write an email stating that upon receipt of my payment I would like my account closed, explaining why. Two hours later, I receive email confirmation that my online bill paying account has been cancelled effectively immediately. WHAT THE FUCK! And what the hate.

...You prescribe a drug to me that says “may cause death”. That kind of defeats the whole purpose of taking medication right? Or are there people trying to get well out there that say to themselves, you know what, I’d rather just stick to death over fixing my knee. I thought medical advancement had been a little further along than this, you’re choices are live with the pain or die…hmmm, can we add a third option? How about hate?

...You say you like someone’s outfit and then ask who makes it, when you find out it’s not some designer label so you respond by saying, oh, well I guess it’s okay then. So first you think it’s great, then suddenly because it doesn’t contain a certain name you think it’s shit? Perhaps I can interest you in something in a dark plastic look, kind of a poncho look this year, here you see there is a big opening at the bottom, and holes for your head and arms, yeah kind of like a garbage bag rain poncho, except this year instead of Hefty, it was designed by Marc Jacobs, so it’s now $900, it’s all the rage and it’s all the hate.

...You walk need to use the restroom during that long time span of an hour and a half of a movie and when getting up you place both hands on the seat in front of you and push down as you begin to rise from your seat. I hope you’re wearing coke bottle glasses and are just to blind to see that someone is actually sitting in this seat trying to enjoy a stupid movie. Since you are not old and senile, I’m going to follow you home and while you are tying to sleep, I’m going to come in and jump on your bed, then I’m going to follow you to work and while you are trying to concentrate, I’m going to spin your chair around and then I’m going to hate you.

Wednesday, August 15, 2007

Clap your hands and say hate

...You see that it’s raining so you stop and just stare, mesmerized, at the rain. Staring at the rain won’t make it stop any sooner, I’m sorry to tell you. Spring the 4 bucks and get yourself a disposable umbrella. You’re not even outside yet and the sight of rain just freezes in you in your tracks like a deer staring down the barrel of a gun. It’s water people, aside from 2 or 3 of you, you won’t melt. You might get a little wet, you hair might get a little messy and of course, you’ll be hated.

...You say Hillary Clinton is such a strong woman because she is a mother and a politician. All right, what people fail to recognize is that she’s the mother of a grown adult, a 27 year old adult and that’s it. I’m not so sure how much of her mothering comes into play anymore, so let’s hold the kudos on that front, please, but will not hold the hate on this front.

...You are Don Imus. You seriously look like the walking dead. There is no chance you have a pulse seeing as you are more pale than an albino and skinnier than skeletor. You are basically a skeleton that thinks he’s a cowboy for some reason, wearing a shinny silver belt buckle that’s larger than a cumberbun froma tux and cowboy hate with a string connecting under your chin. I’m not sure who told you this was a good look or that all the kids were dressing like this, but dude, go back to the set of pee wee’s playhouse and go back to being hated.

...You are at the office and talking on the phone in your “girlfriend” voice. Hmmm I wonder who you are talking to? Oh right, the girl on the 14th floor that you’ve been dating for 3 years, yet you seem to think it’s a “secret”. After 2 months the cat was out of the bag so stop trying to deny that everyone knows. I’m sure it’s all exciting pretending to sneak around the office trying not to be seen together, that’s cute, really…the first thousand times we had to witness it. Now your coyness is not so much fun, it’s so much hated.

...You are allegedly helping with work, when a question is raised and your proposed resolution is to set up a meeting. Dude, it’s a 2 second question that requires a 2 second answer. It’s no fucking wonder nothing gets done in the world. During the time you have been talking about how we should set up a meeting to start a meeting, I’ve sent an email, got a response and hated you.

...You control the temperature to my office and set it to “sweltering” during the summer months. I call to have the AC fixed and set lower, you come and raise the temperature. As I’m soaked in sweat, I call to have it fixed yet again, you come and set it to frigid and now I have snotcicles hanging from nose like a moustached skier. Touché my friend, but seriously my fingers should not be numb and my hate should be for you.

...You give your kid a Mohawk. Wow, look at how cool that dad is, his kid has a Mohawk, that’s sooooo punk rock. He’s not gonna let THE MAN tell him how to live his life. You’re 36, you have a toddler, you now own the bar where you tried to “make it”, you have a wife and your trust fund is now entirely in your control, why are you still emo? Let it go, your life is looking pretty good, there’s nothing to rebel against, there’s no reason to be punk with green hair, a mohawked child and a lot of hate.

...You pronounce tortellini as tortelloni. I see, you must be one these high society types who thinks that pronouncing a word differently will themselves appear to be of a superior intellect. Well hows a this? Go your local bookstore, or your favourite website, have a looksie at the spelling and the give yourself a listen, but listen closely to be sure you hear me hating you.

Wednesday, August 08, 2007

Hate without a face

...You are outright picking your nose, knuckle deep, during a meeting. Hey we all enjoy a good pick from time to time, nothing quite gets the job done. Would you pull a rock from the ground using blower or would you use a pick axe? Exactly, I get it. But what I also get is that there’s a time and place for everything, humans seem to recognize this, so you must not be human. Well you are in IT so I guess you are not human, but I can guess that you are hated.

...You see me for the first time that day, you say hello, then as you walk by my office 83 times that day, you say hi each and every time. You know, I get it, I understand you want to say hi, very nice of you, but once is sufficient. I don’t really like you all that much to have you say hi and while we’re at it, please stop staring at me while you pass my doorway, look straight ahead, do not pass go and collect some hate.

...You are attending some sort of live performance, a broadway show for example, and at the end you begin to applaud the performers. After about 15 seconds of applause it turns into clapping in unison, as though you are clapping along to music, all in the same rhythm. It doesn’t seem to matter the occasion or the type of music, no matter what when you are clapping, it turns into the same rhythm, the same clap and the same hate.

...You are the summer intern that either has no idea what she’s doing or is completely ADD. How many times can a person walk by my office in 1 day? I’ll tell you how many, 937 times, that’s in a day folks, I counted. One day, one day, I’d like to be able to sit in my office and pick my nose without some overzealous college kid walking by in rush to file paper, a rush to shred and a rush to hate.

...You are a movie concession stand employee and insist that you have given me a soda when you clearly have not. You can ask me once to clarify, once. Any more than that and you are asking for a shit fit from me. Unlike a nice respectful concession stand employee, you berate me with a series of inquisitions as to what happened to this illusive soda with 3 subsequent questions in reference to the location of said soda. Listen bearded lady, you did not give me a soda as you can plainly see there is no soda in sight, you only gave me hate.

...You are giving a presentation and have every single word you say on the actual slides. You might as well have just placed a recorded message in the room because you are about as useful as a Commodore 64. Everyone at the meeting can read, so just send me your “presentation” and I’ll read it because this is a book and in no way resembles something to be presented aside from the presentation of hate.

Friday, August 03, 2007

Black Hateday

...You are responsible for a particular stock I own, that had a particularly awful week. Let's keep in mind this is only one week, one week after already having it's worst week, the week before.



I'm ruined and you're hated.


The hating is on the wall

...You used to read and comment on this blog, but now seem to have disappeared like a fart in the wind. Just because there have been some creative constraints and bouts of hater's block, doesn't mean you abandon hate. For a while there, the culture of hate was being nurtured, now, you're all gone, on to bigger and better hate, but please people, spread the gospel of hate, bring the haters back. While this sounds desparate I'm sure, I just want to see more hate in people's lives and more hate in you.

Thursday, August 02, 2007

Ain't Too Proud Too Hate

...You are using your water bottle bidet in the men’s room and can’t manage to keep it clean. I go to use a stall, open the door and see the ravages of the previous user. 4 balls of crumpled up paper, 7 toilet seat sheets, two different newspapers strewn across the floor soaked in the spillage from the water bottle bidet. And let’s not forget the clogged toilet. The bottle lays in a pool of water atop the newspaper that has now become a sort of wallpaper for the floor. I have a hard time accepting that I work in an office full of professional adults, is this how adults behave themselves in public or at work or when hated?

...You come back from a European vacation, semester abroad or from working abroad or simply have some European friends and now feel like you are obligated, if not encouraged, to give people the double kiss when saying hello. You are American, face it, we don’t kiss on both cheeks when we say hello or goodbye, a simple handshake will do, if that, a simple nod of recognition can typically suffice. But no, you my pretentious friends must attempt to make up for some other short coming, some other insecurity as though you are saying: you stupid Americans, you are beneath me, you are so uncultured, but look at me, I’ve been to Europe, I’m cultured, I’m well traveled, and I’m hated.

...You are American and say Ciao to people instead of simply saying goodbye, or see ya, or later or piece out. Reasons for such ostentation are the same reasons why I used the ostentatious. It’s a way to differentiate yourself from the common, to make yourself feel better because you pretend to know more than someone else, you pretend to be better than people, but you can’t pretend to hated, because you are.

...You are in a meeting in my office, the meeting is going on for a long time, perhaps an hour during which you have managed to down three bottles of water and instead of getting up to use the restroom, you decide to relieve yourself right then and there. You know, it’s not like we’re in the middle of surgery and some person’s life depends on your presence in the room, no, reviewing this month’s P&L can certainly wait, but hating you cannot.

...You are standing at the sink in the men’s room with your pants at your ankles, washing your hands at 9 in the morning. You know this is not a locker room, please have some humility. You are surely the absolute worst patron of any bathroom, public, private, exclusive or rustic, you clearly take the prize. For those interested in further reading, please check your local book store for soon to be released, Memoirs of a Bathroom Attendant but for now all you anxious readers will have to settle for my hate.

...You are the very same unruly bathroom patron that enters an elevator, the very same one I am trying to exit, before me. Forget the fact that I have the right of way here, but the look on this man is appalling. You are completely disheveled as though the exhaustive work of sitting in a cubicle all day has withered you away to a fraction of the man you once were. You’re Palmolive lathered hair sticks straight up into the air exposing your well receded hairline, your shirt half tucked, half untucked, but still clearly exposing the fact that your pants are pulled up to your man breasts, yet fails to hide your hips which are more shapely than Carnie Wilson. You’re sleeves are rolled up to your elbows but in a way that is unkempt, your shirt is unbuttoned three buttons exposing your hair sweater and extra small wife beater. There is a film of sweat coating your face and more around your mouth which is either water from a drink or slow falling drool created from the daze that is your life or from the hate that I have for you.

Monday, July 30, 2007

I'm starting with the hate in the mirror

...You are the IT guy with steakhead size muscles and tiny little ballerina legs. I think you’ve lifted a bit more than one too many computers in your day. How can I tell? Well how about the shirt that’s 2 sizes too small or maybe your happy hour spandex white T that you change into before leaving the office every Friday? It’s like you’re trying to be superman, except instead of the S for Super, you wear and H for Hated.

...You tell me how great Miami is everytime I see you. As if it wasn’t bad enough for the senses to see you in the super white spandex T, I have to also hear you? Just because I have an Italian last name, it doesn’t mean I want to hit up the clubby clubs in South Beach. Not everyone likes that and something tells me, not everyone likes you. As a social experiment, I’d love to learn how this goes down, at what point to you tell women that you’re the IT guy? Oh right, there are no women, there’s only hate.

...You are an exact clone of Napolean Dynomite’s brother and are eating in my work cafeteria. I realize the need to employee the nerdery, but this is just out of control. I don’t care that you’re some kind of number genius freak, there is no excuse for such dress, but this goes beyond the simple look, I mean the acne is down to a T, the voice, identical, the little 13 year old moustache, unreal, and most importantly let us not forget the most uncanny resemblance of my hate.

...You insist on the playing the “guess the Asian” game whenever you encounter an Asian woman. You see, if you are Asian (if not just observe), go to your local dry cleaner, corner market, Chinese takeout, or Chinatown (and for the record yes, that’s racist, I get that, but play along) and let the games begin. It starts with a curious stare and then a double take, then it eases into outright uncomfortable. You might smile or otherwise make the store owner aware of the staring. The store owner will shy away, then talk to some coworkers in his or her native tongue all the while keeping an on you to see if you understand, you give them no satisfaction, they figure you for full on American. Then you conduct your business amidst the uncomfortableness, and you stump them by saying thank you in their native language. The reaction is one of shock, the employees that have all since gathered round the register to have a closer look for themselves are now giving each other nods of agreement that they were right, you must be Chinese, the store owner asks, are you Chinese? No, Korean? No, Vietnamese? No Philipino? No, what are you then, you tell them you are actually .00001% Chinese they all smile and laugh in affirmation that they did in reality guess correctly, then you explain the rest of your ethnicity is hater of you.

...You are my cleaning lady. I know you stole my gym membership ID, it had to be you. I do not lose things, they are only stolen because I know exactly where everything goes at all times, I have a constant running tally in my brain. I can see it now, the cleaning lady at the gym, on the treadmill wearing a costume to pose as me. I know, it’s a crazy thought to think a little old eastern European immigrant would be up to such shenanigans but it’s true. I can just see her now at my gym, wearing my gym clothes (btw I’m missing a pair of shorts…), wearing a white headband, my old sneakers that she found in the trash, a wig and a lot of hate.

...You see me carrying large bags and boxes unable to actually swipe my work ID to get in and instead of hold the door for me, you make a point of closing it behind yourself. You know I work here, you see me almost everyday. I hate to tell you that there is no secret about the business being conducted here, there’s no reason to not let me in. This is really akin to the full cavity search of 80 year olds at the airport, that’s no exaggeration. It’s also akin to me hating you.

Wednesday, July 25, 2007

Crouching Tiger Hidden Hate

...You have what appears to be taps in your shoes and just tap tap tap your way around the office. Damn what is that infernal racket? It is driving me insane. A tap to the left, a tap to the right, up the hallway, down the hallway, please remove those shoes immediately. I go home at night and try to fall asleep and what do I hear? Tap tap tap tap tap tap, then I wake up and I hate hate hate hate hate.

...You ask me to send you something again in email after I have already sent it to you. I don’t care if it was 3 years ago, why don’t you have it still? Why are you deleting emails? Oh I know why, because you think that actually deletes them, cute kid. Oh you also print out every single email and keep it in an archive of the binder variety? Great use of resources, great use of your time, great use of paper and a great use for hate.

...You send me an email saying “you’re welcome”. Well for that, I take back my sincere thank you and will replace that with my sarcastic thank you. Thank you for replying to my email with absolutely no substance or purpose. Thank you for wasting 11.3 seconds of my life which included opening an email, determining the pointlessness and hating you.

...You say you live on the upper west side, then say your apartment is on 109th street. Upper West Side? That’s fucking Harlem and you know it. I don’t care how close it is to Columbia, it doesn’t make you bohemian, it may make you a little dangerous, but it most certainly makes you hated.

...You quit your job and then send a farewell to the entire company or department. Are you sure this wasn’t a forced resignation? If you can’t tell when it’s appropriate to send an email to the entire company or not, well maybe it IS time for you to move on. Not to mention I have to read how it fills you with great sadness and much regret to leave for a better opportunity. Are you really that sad about it? Maybe you should have thought twice about the interviewing process and the whole getting hated process.

...You have a boat, and every weekend you go out on that boat, you laugh and laugh and have a grand ‘ol time. You then return home Sunday night and tell your roommate what a wonderful time you had on that boat, how it was so sunny, the water was perfect, the beer flowed like wine…the weekend the same, the next weekend – the same, all the while never extending the invite to the poor roommate so I’m having to extend the hate.

...You are a coworker and feel the need to detail your personal sex life, or lack thereof, to me on a regular basis. This goes beyond TMI (to much information) this extends to out right repulsive. I vomit at the notion of you involved in any sort of sexual relations, the mere thought of it makes me want to run and join a monastery for a life of celibacy so I never have to envision the thought of you having sex and me hating.

Friday, July 20, 2007

Bend it like Hate

...You are going for a bike ride and decide you need to dress yourself in full on tour de France attire. I know how important it is to shave off 3 seconds from your time riding alongside the Hudson. This is intense competition, I know. I mean I’m riding in flip flops and moving faster than you, so thank god you are in spandex and a faux yellow jersey. The ram horn handle bars and the aerodynamic alien helmet are nice touch as well, now you really look like a professional. With all that the gear, the only thing I’ve can tell is that you make too much money and you make too much hate.

...You are out for a run and are wearing paper thin short shorts that reveal your balls with every stride. I didn’t know Carl Lewis came out of retirement, I mean that has to be the only reason you are wearing those clothes. Face it, you are an amateur, I am passing by you and that doesn’t say much. I can only hope those are relics from actual competitions, but even so, you have no business wearing them on an afternoon jog. This is not a road race, it’s not even a road, it’s only a hate.

...You head out to the courts to shoot some hoop and come decked out in your latest Lebron sneakers, full on San Antonio Spurs uniform, head band, wrist bands and even the nylon stockings a la Allen Iverson. You then go to take a lay up and miss, everyone figures this is a fluke, but then you proceed to hog the ball for 3 hours straight not making one shot and only making hate.

...You are playing a pick up roller hockey game and flip out when someone isn’t showing enough effort. You should be lucky enough to have found 9 other fat middle age men that think they’re 20 to play with you. Isn’t hockey supposed to be a tough workout? Give the beast a chance, he’s 50 lbs overweight, he needs a breather for a smoke and a big mac, then he get right back to hitting a ball into a garbage can and I can get right back to hating you.

...You are playing on your company’s softball team and don’t seem to quite understand the term recreational. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but the minor leagues are not calling, you’ll never get a shot at the show, sorry to tell you. If the hot chick from the office is playing in the outfield, she can miss every single ball as long as its not yours. No one is looking for Derek Jeter out there to give the two out sign to the field, we get it, actually we don’t care, just pass another Bud heavy and I’ll pass you some hate.

...You are in the park showing off your "mad" soccer skills. Wow, look at that, that euro trash guy is showing off with some sort of fancy looking basketball. You get it? No one gives a shit that you can bounce a ball with your foot; most people don’t even know how to spell soccer. The only thing you’re doing is annoying anyone in any sort of distance within your reach, because we all have to keep an eye on you, not because of your skills, but to make sure we don’t get hit with the ball and to ensure we can hate proper.

Thursday, July 19, 2007

Five Alarm Hate

...You assume that if anything happens in NY it must be the terrorists. So we all know that nothing has been done to stop the terrorists, but accidents are going to happen, 100 year old pipes will sometimes burst, sometimes the gas is left on, once in a while propeller planes crash and everyday I hate.

...You see a freak accident in the street and the first thing you do is reach for your cell phone. Oh you better get that on camera, get your 12 second clip that shows nothing but a blur, then post it on youtube. Thank god every single person has this technology, I don’t know how we would get by without useless blogs of nothingness, less than amateur quality video and an endless supply of hate.

...You see steam, smoke and fire bursting from the ground and relentlessly try to get a closer look. I think more people were injured by other people trying to get a closer look at the injured people. Why don’t we all have ourselves a nice look at the disaster, try to find people we know and then we can all be properly hated.

...You are reporting on some sort of tragedy and in your little info area on the TV screen you write “no deaths reported yet”. YET? It’s like a game, what kind of death toll are we getting on this one. How many can you count? I see one…two…thr- no that person is still alive, come on, where’s three, where’s three? Where’s you and where’s hate?

...You call people to ask if they are okay after a very localized tragedy that you know has not affected the person you know. Yes we all want to feel like we are close to the action, but seriously, this is just annoying. Hey, I just heard there is a forest fire in California, everything okay over there in New York? What? While I am clearly exaggerating my point, you know I don’t live anywhere near it, I don’t work anywhere near it, so please let me get on with my hating of you.

Monday, July 16, 2007

Ooooo Baby I hate your way, everyday

...You call me to come into your office, I come in and sit down, the moment I sit down, you pick up the phone to call someone. You know, I get it, you’re important, you make a lot more money than me, that’s okay, because you’re 60. Ha ha let’s make the young guy be my little bitch. Oh hey, I see how this works you need something, I go to you, then its nevermind go back to your desk, then you call me again to come to your office only to make me sit there for an hour while you send emails and while I hate you.

...You are the advertising department for Lipitor. I understand Richard Jarvic is a genius and all, but he really belongs on dateline. Does this guy even know how to blink? The stoic stare into the camera is one of molesters, not scientists. Not to mention they only show his commercials during dateline, it’s NBC’s little joke. This is a creepy creepy man, I’m not taking health advice from him, so put him back behind the microscope and let the normal non molesters get hated.

...You send me an email full of garbage and end it with “I hope this clears up all your questions”. If by clear up you mean not even sure this is a written language let alone English, then yes it is perfectly clear. I can appreciate that you think in retard, but when it comes time to communicate your thoughts, you must, you absolutely must translate into something that anyone with an IQ over 70 can understand so that anyone with an IQ over 70 doesn’t have to hate you.

...You compliment my girlfriend on her dress and how great she looks, then turn to me and say, wow, good for you, nice job. Ok so you are telling me that I’m some sort of horrible monster and that she’s way to hot for me. While she is much hotter than I, give a man some credit here, I’m not quasimoto, I’m a fairly attractive individual and I have do have a decent track record of hating you.

...You are a guest speaker at a conference and when discussing your background, you just happen to mention that your kids go to prep school. But not just any prep school, a very very expensive prep school, but you don’t stop there, you also manage to bring up that you have 3 BMWs, your last vacation was to the Maldives, you have a Spanish speaking gardener and a very small penis. What the fuck are you insecure about that you have to brag about your alleged fortunes to a bunch of twentysomething kids that will never see you again in their lives? We get it, by the time you’ve reached 50 or 60, you’ve managed to make some cash, but you’ve also managed to make a lot of hate.

...You are bald on the top of your head, yet you still choose to have a mullet in the back. Some might call this a skullet. I know it must be hard to let the dream die, the dream of having a full head of hair. It’s tough to watch your youth literally go down the drain, but face the facts mandingo, you are bald, just shave it off for if you don’t you will be destined to a life of pool hall cougars with a deeper voice than you and a deeper hate for you.

Thursday, July 12, 2007

How to succeed in hate without really trying

...You call me from the waiting room at a doctor’s office while I’m reading a magazine to wait in the doctor’s office for another 20 minutes. Lady, you’ve become my arch nemesis, I’m trying to read up on whether or not Tomkat is having another kid, this is important business here. The stuff that matters in life is looking at pictures of semi famous women’s stomachs to see if there is any kind of bulge, then I can go write articles and have television shows where we all try to determine if she’s pregnant, fat or just simply hated.

...You tell someone, hey you look different. So what, I either got fat, shaved my head or had some kind of terrible accident that mangled my face, thanks for pointing that out. I know I look different, I don’t need to be reminded in some snide tone from someone that naturally looks as though she had some terrible accident that mangled her face and turned into my hate.

...You are a bum that lies beneath a pile of garbage bags, that uses the same plastic as a bed sheet and then leaves his hand sticking out from under the pile. So I’m not sure if someone was murdered and thrown in the trash, someone’s hand was sliced off or what’s going on. All I know is that really freaks me out every time I walk by you and every time your hand is in the trash and in my hate.

...You are a bum that whistles at the pretty girls. Whistling at the girls in general is pretty pointless, but when you do it, it goes beyond creepy. The man with 2 different shoes, 1 tooth that smells like 3 week old sushi thinks he has a chance with this chick? I must be in bizarro New York because I just don’t see the logic here. I mean sure, you stare, you can gape, you make some sort of creepy growl that only a predator could, but whistling? That’s saying hey hot lady, look at me, then she looks, she sees the grotesqueness and then hates you.

...You make comments on the elevator such as, she was so hot, but so young, I should be arrested. Um, perhaps you didn’t notice, but I don’t know you. How do you know I’m not affiliated with Chris Hansen from Dateline? There’s a couple of things you don’t joke about, and this is certainly one of those things. There are laws in place because of people like you and hate in place because of people like you.

...You give a long laborious thank you to god on your acceptance speech for an award. Yes we get it, you’re religious, you pray and that is exactly why god gave you and only you the strength to win, as opposed to all the other people in the running that also prayed. What was it about you’re prayer that was so convincing? Perhaps someone is feeling sorry for you for being so hated.

Tuesday, July 10, 2007

Still hating after all these years

...You refer to your blackberry, as your crackberry. You’re a regular Jerry Seinfeld aren’t you? Where do you find the time to sleep, I mean staying up all hours of the night to write such material. If you are going to be saying such clichéd overused garble, you’re better off not speaking at all. In fact, you must raise your hand to speak from now on and raise your hand to be hated.

...You are any one of the 7 people walking horizontally on the sidewalk, thereby encompassing the entire sidewalk, east to west. Holy shit, the coup de grace of hate, 7 people standing next to each other, shoulder to shoulder, barreling down the sidewalk, not moving for any of the oncoming traffic, periodically slowing to a crawl to thoroughly enrage the people behind. This, my haters, is it, this is my thesis, the source of all that is hated, you.

...You tell me you are going to miss my 30th birthday. Yeah don’t worry, you can come to my next 30th birthday party, no problem. So for the past two years while I’ve been going to everyone else’s parties, putting up their bullshit to create grassroots support for my own, when it comes time to pay the piper, you’re suddenly too important to make a little time for dear ol me, and dear ol hate.

...You ask me what it feels like to be 30. Well seeing as you’re 32, why don’t you tell me what it feels like to be 30, I really wouldn’t know seeing as this is day 1. apparently everyone else on the planet gets a visit from the aging ferry, because one year to the next doesn’t make me feel any different, it only makes me feel hate for you.

...You speak “urban” when around minority friends and speak proper around white people. I be talkin bout chu Alicia Keyes, I know you moms be white, you was excepted to Columbia. You’re an educated individual, please do us all the favor and act like it outside of your Today show appearances and outside of my hate.

...You have flowers or pink background set to your work email. Nothing screams professionalism with a flower arrangement as the background for all your emails. Not to mention when I hit reply, I’m now stuck with pink flowers for my background and for whatever reason, what’s with the automatic triple spacing between lines, who types like this? You must be legally blind because no one needs to have automatic font of 72 with triple spacing, but you definitely need some hate.

...You come into my office first thing in the morning after I’ve been out for a week and sit down to discuss work. Listen guy, I’ve been for a week, I’m supposed to come into the office, drink my coffee and read on the internet all morning, well actually that’s every morning, but still you see the picture here? I have zero desire to be in work right now, zero desire to look at you right now and zero desire to not hate you right now.

Thursday, June 28, 2007

All for hate and hate for all

...You give Paris Hilton an hour long interview because she was released from jail. It’s unbelievable that the most notorious slut in the country gets an hour with Larry King. This is a legitimate show that interviews heads of states, politicians, artists, leaders of industry and the like, now you’ve stooped to the level of tiger beat magazine whereby you are dedicating a show to an ugly spoiled brat made famous for having sex. Leave the gossip to E! I’ll leave the news to you, and everyone can leave their hate to me.

...You email me something, then come into my office with it printed out. Stop making more excuses for you to come into my office to annoy me. I do not want to talk to you, I do not want to BS with you and I do not want to hear about how you did such a great job in helping someone fill out a form. Your job is 30 times less important than you think it is, you are 1000 times more annoying than you think you are and you a million times more hated than you were before.

...You see me in the bathroom after 6 PM and say to me, “still here?” No I’m not here. This is a figment of your fucking imagination, I’m a hologram. I spent millions developing this hologram so that I can be seen in the bathroom after business hours while in reality I left at 530. Do you that stream of pee that is not going into the urinal but instead all over you? Just a hologram, it’s not really there. If you can’t think of anything useful or witty to say, please don’t speak, just stand there and get hated.

...You insist on chopping my salad. Listen lady, I don’t like my salad chopped, me likes me salad tossed. Nothing quite hits the spot like a nice tossed salad. We’re talking about an actual salad here people. Under normal circumstances, sure I can do chopped, but this is no ordinary chop chop done, this is chop as though it was put through a blender so now it looks like you puked into a plastic container, charged me ten bucks and then got hated.

...You are standing in a line so close behind that if a slight breeze went by, we’d be intimate. I can feel your breath on my neck, not to mention that I can hear your breath because instead of breathing, you’re snoring and instead of waiting, I’m hating.

...You are asking yourself, well how could they be intimate if he’s wearing pants? They’re called chaps people and they’re all the rage. Get yourself a pair, then get yourself some hate.

...You are a so called professional and ask me what is a C.V. Are fucking kidding me? Let me guess, you make more money than me too. How did you even get this job in the first place and what’s worse is I actually explained this to you because the word google is just as foreign to you. The ineptitude that exists in corporations is baffling, completely baffling and completely hated.

...You step up the urinal and flip your tie over your shoulder. This tells me one of two things, either you have a penis just below your belly button or your tie is too fucking long. Guess which is correct and if your thinking it’s fashion, think again. Actually, it is you like a clown when one side of your JC Penny tie is hanging to your knee and the other side is a two inch nub. I wish people would take some pride in their presentation so then I wouldn’t have to take so much pride in my hate.