Thursday, January 25, 2007

I am Man; Hear me Hate

...You are a manny. Grown men do not belong caring for young children. I don’t care how much you love children or how caring you might be or anything, there is always that sneeking suspicion that you're going to end up on dateline. There’s a certain creep element involved here and there is a certain hate element involved.

...You are manorexic. I’ll admit, I had a bout with the manorexia for about a week, but then I came to my senses. As a huMAN you need to eat, you need to maintain a certain level mass, so as to avoid looking sick. The atrophied muscle look is sooooooo 2 years ago while the hated look is sooooo you.

...You wear a man fur. There are only two men in modern times that can pull off the man fur: Don King and Joe Namath. Anyone else should be shot on site as you are easily mistaken for wild game, the most dangerous game. The next time I see an alleged man in a full length mink with a man tan and man jewelry, I’m going to point, snicker and hate.

...You wear Manery. Street name: Man Jewelry. You know who you are, you are still wearing the double hoop earrings, perhaps the diamond stud has supplanted one of those hoops. You don a gaudy chain necklace with some sort of charm at the end, perhaps a skull or pirate paraphernalia taking your cue from Captain Jack. You have as many rings as you do fingers, all to along with your oversized belt buckle and my oversized hate.

...You use a man purse. No it’s not fashionable and it’s not even “metro”, it’s simply feminine. Men are not granted to wear a purse. I have to caveat, that gay or straight it doesn’t matter. As a man you required to carry each item separately, which explains the recent popularity of the blazer look. You carry your phone, your ipod, your smokes, your keys, your cash, your cards, your Listerine breath strips and my hate.

...You are a murse. Sure a man can be a nurse, just like a man can be a dancer and an interior decorator and a hair “stylist” and a construction worker. Hey listen, I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with being a male nurse, some of my best friends are male nurses, my father’s a murse, but seriously it’s good for a chuckle and it’s good for a hate.

...You have a man period. Every 28 days your auntie flo comes to visit you right? You don’t like your aunt flo, she makes you irritable and emotional, she makes you want binge on chocolate and watch pretty woman. Wait, for a second there I got a little confused, I thought I was referencing a woman, but instead an over emo, gender confused, I have nothing better to do, hated man.

Tuesday, January 23, 2007

Birds of a Feather Hate Together

You walk by my office 37 times a day and say hi every single time. The first hello, is sufficient for the entire day, I prefer that be sufficient for an entire lifetime, but understanding the social norms, once a day is acceptable. Every agonizing minute that I’m at work? Well my friend we don't take to your kind round these parts, we hate your kind round these parts.

You are waiting for an elevator but haven’t pushed the button. Yes I too try to find ways to waste time at work, however I prefer to actually leave the building or do some constructive blogging. You for whatever reason find enjoyment and fulfillment in eternal waiting, you’ve created your man made purgatory waiting to enter the pearly gates of hate.

You think the movie Dreamgirls is an oscar worthy movie. Since when did the CBS Movie of the week become award winning? I think I remember this the first 17 times I saw this when it was called, The Jacksons, Ray, The Buddy Holly story, Walk the Line, La Bamba, Selena, Little Douce Coupe: The Brian Wilson Story, etc, etc. Do people really enjoy this? I mean I like Seinfeld re-runs as much as the next guy but eventually I get tired of it and eventually I hate it.

You ask me if I think you are fat. Oh god, here it comes, if I say no, you either think, great he hasn’t noticed, now I can binge for another month at which point you’re tipping your all time max or you think I’m lying and then start wonder what else I’m lying about and then inquisition begins. If I say yes, enter the tears. There is no way for a man to answer this question, honest or not so please stop asking and maybe then I can stop hating.

You tell me you’ve been looking for a rich, non-hairy, oil heir to sweep you off your feet and take you away, but instead you found me. Uh thanks? Let’s think about this, I’m not rich, I’m hairy and I stand to inherit nothing but debt. At least we can see that this relationship is off to a great start and it sounds like a match made in hate.

You push the up elevator button then stand in front of it so that no one can hit the down button. I know you see that there are 6 elevators and I know you know you’re not the only person in existence, so what makes you think no one else should have the privilege of leaving this floor? Just stand right there, I’ll wait until your elevator comes, I’ve got no where to be other than right here hating you.

You place your coat on the bar stool next to me when there are already about 9 other coats about to topple over. Now that I’m the one next to the stool, I’ve been by default elected coat czar to make sure no one’s coat falls to the floor. This is a tall order for a drunken whiskey drinker, one can’t expect me to referee the bar stool coat jenga game taking place right before my hate.

Thursday, January 18, 2007

Absence makes the hate grow fonder

...You write “please advise” in a personal email. Hey what are you doing tonight, please advise. What a way to take a personal email to a friend and corporatize it the point that I vomit. Have you become so jaded by the man that you can’t differentiate? Is your company literally reading every email so now you have to pretend that even personal emails are “work related”? Please advise, and please hate.

...You are the makers of my boxer shorts and make the button on the fly so frail that it never stays buttoned, now I just move and the pup is dangling free in my pants thereby negating the point of underwear altogether. A strong wind and there is my prize for all to see, thanks Tommy. Changing in the locker room means I’ve now become the 80 year old pantsless wonder and it means the hater has become the hated.

...You say you want to learn another language and then state that you really need to get back into studying pig latin. Now when I hear someone say they want to learn a new language I immediately think Spanish, French, Japanese, Mandarin, but you’ve brought this to a new level. I’m sorry to break the news but pig latin is not derived from actual latin or from anything at all. A couple more shockers, no santa, no easter bunny, no toothfairy. I also hate to break the news to you, but I atehay ouyay.

...You are JT. That’s right Timberlake, I mean you. You break up with Cameron Diaz only to find one of the few hotter women in Scarlett. This is utter bullshit. There are millions of starving men sitting home and you go and have yourself a pussyopoly, not cool. Spread the wealth and I’ll stop spreading the hate.

...You let off a grunt and then a massive sigh of relief while visiting your local office bathroom stall. No shame huh? You’ve just given up on life. You may as well show up to work in man juicy and we forget about converting you to baby wipes, you’re a quick once over wipe pull the draw string juicy pants and your on your way, not even bothering to wash the hands, but still bothering to get hated.

...You call me on the phone for a discussion yet you sit in the office right next to me. I know that walk over is just too much, strenuous activity such as walking next door or speaking slightly louder than normal is just too much, you might after all burn an extra 10 calories for the day and we can’t have that, but we can have hate.

...You are a newscaster and have that omnipresent pen in your hand. You hold that pen as though you are diligently taking notes and actually asking a follow up question instead of accepting answers like, stay the course. Your new name is Bob Dole and that’s not meant to be a compliment. Carrying around a pen does not make you looks more intelligent or more serious, it just makes you look hated.

Tuesday, January 16, 2007

I'm gonna keep on hating you

You are older than me and feel you need impart your “wisdom” on any and all conversations. Just because you have about 25 years one me doesn’t mean you know anything at all. You sit in your world and talk about how great life was 30 years ago and how much it sucks now, I’ll sit here in my world an realize that things change and that you are hated.

You work at starbucks and announce the drinks as you are making them. Nevermind your narration, you see this line of 13 people? Yeah they wants thems some coffee they don’t want a performance. I realize you have that audition this afternoon, but face it, you’re not getting the part, your screenplay sucks, I need my coffee now and I hate you now.

You bring out the order to me at a restaurant, I point it out to you, then you get pissed at me because you are the one that sucks. See here, you made the mistake, you wrote down the thing, which is only half the battle, you need to finish, you need actually be able to read it back to the chef. I don’t even care that you messed it up, it happens, but then to get pissed at me for your error, well missy, that gets you hated.

You use a handkerchief. You don’t just use it, but you use it, then place it back in your pocket to be used again in the not too distant future prior to washing it. You blow your nose into a cloth that now sticks together, is mushy and is soaking wet. Then when I sneeze or have a stuffy nose you offer me your handkerchief. There are few things that are less sanitary and there are few things that are less hated.

You have your pet’s name on your answering machine. Awwwweeee how adorable, little buttercup can’t come to the phone either. You either think it’s so cute that the crazy people don’t differentiate species when leaving messages in spoken language or you think it’s cute because you are imaging buttercup’s little paws trying to answer the phone. Whatever your imagination and how ever you view this as cute, you are still hated by me.

You are the person that decided on sheet of toilet paper would be 3 inches by 3 inches. Is anyone really wiping with just one sheet at a time? You may as well just use your hand. They all know we need to wad (or fold if that’s you) and this takes at least 24 sheets to avoid the poopy hands. Forget the sheets, you only need one wet wipe, and you only need one hate.

Thursday, January 11, 2007

Under the cherry hate

…You schedule a meeting between 12 and 1 in the afternoon. Lunch? No I don’t need to eat, who needs that. My life is apparently at your disposal and thank you for considering my dietary needs because I’m still jittery from all the caffeine I had to ingest just to make it through the meeting at 7:30 this morning, a meeting that consisted of nothing other than your senseless dribble and my meaningful hate.

…You proclaim a corporate catch phrase of work life balance when in fact you view work and life as opposing values. Balance to you means waiting until 5:30 to come to my office to have a discussion about something that is so basic and simple that my 2 year old nephew understands yet you can’t grasp after 17 after hour meetings. Balance to you means calling meetings at 7 in the morning so that I have to wake up before the sun comes up because you like to punish everyone for your insomnia. Balance to me means hating you.

…You act as a peeping Tom outside my office when I’m clearly on the phone. You see this black plastic device attached to my ear? That’s called a telephone. Do you see how I am speaking into it? That means I’m having a conversation. You see how you are standing at my door starring at me as though your presence will prompt me to end my call which happens to just be me on hold with a call center? That’s me hating you.

…You are providing the unsolicited audio version of your autobiography and use the phrase, “in my prior life”. So you are that small percent of intelligent species that believe in reincarnation or you are just coo coo, coo coo. We understand, you had a job before this one, most people have, and we get it, you think you are old because you are 35. Stop fucking reminding us so I can stop fucking hating you.

…You ask a question every single time a person holding a meeting asks if there are any questions. I understand, you feel neglected, you want to hear yourself talk and stand out a bit from the rest of tardoville, but simply repeating what the speaker said will not get you brownie points, your nose may be dipped in chocolate but you will certainly be dipped in hate.

…You are stressing the importance of something and use the word really. This reminds me of those 500 word essays I had to write when I was like 10 and to actually count out each word when approaching 488 words, there suddenly was a drastic uptick in the adverbs, very and really. Now at almost 30 when someone says something is really this with a heavy heavy accent on the first syllable as if to read, REEEEEEEEEEEEally, I know you are full of hot air just as I know you are full of my hate.

…You cut off the person running a meeting just about at the point when everyone knows the point of the statement so that you can be the one that makes the statement to look like you actually have a purpose of existing. I’m not sure who’s to be more hated here, the person interrupting or the person speaking that actually says, well Heather that’s a great point I’m glad you mentioned it. How about calling “heather” out to say, well heather, I was in the middle of making that very same point until you so rudely cut me off to try and show off to your colleagues on how hated you are.

Tuesday, January 09, 2007

See no evil, hear no hate

...You come into my office and just sit there. Yes, may I help you? Do you have something to say, for us to work on or anything of any value to me? Nay, I think not. Please be cognizant of the fact that I am extremely busy here, extremely busy working on how much I hate you.

...You just hang up the phone when you’ve said what you are going to say rather than saying “thanks” or “bye” or “speak to you later”. You in that much of a rush that you can’t utter the unimportant common courtesy that us in the real world say to each other? I don’t even really care or even like you, it’s a simple thing civilized people say out of respect for the other person on the phone indicating that the conversation is over. You on the other hand are not civilized, you are hated.

...You have your initials monogrammed on your shirt. Hey, it’s Thornton J. Wilcott III, TJW for short. It’s imperative that we all know your initials, after all, how else would we know you are a wasp? I know, I know, you are a mr. big time stock trader man with your big time money job, so let the what other way is there to let the world know you are rich, you are respected and that you are hated?

...You wear a class ring. Wow, that’s impressive, I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen an alum from Eastern Appalachia State University, you must be proud. What’s that? Oh it only took you 9 years to finish, pretty good there Einstein, I am proud and you are hated.

...You walk by my office and see my diligently working at my computer hate blogging, and give me a the stare down. Yes I am in my office typing away being productive, what are you doing? Yep, you’re roaming the halls, tell me who is more productive? I know when you come by at 5:45 to see if I’m still here and only find an empty, locked office you get a feeling of emptiness inside but that quickly subsides when you run and tell the boss that you are hated.

...You call a meeting and expect me to run it. You called the meeting, I show up, yet I’m expected to start the meeting, give a presentation, analysis, a plan of action and finally adjourn the meeting. Perhaps I’m a little confused but I thought when you call a meeting you are to speak first? Do you call people on the phone and sit in silence waiting for the other person to do the talking even though it was you that called? I don’t think so. Do I log on to my computer to hate you? I think so.

...You think we are best friends because I held an elevator door for you. Your impression of this experience is akin to that of pledging a fraternity, we’re now brothers, elevator brothers, we’ve been through so much together you feel you can just share any story with me so we can have ourselves a good chuckle on the ride to the second floor. Listen buddy, all I did was accidentally hit the door open button rather than the door close button when I saw you approach. I’m not at all interested in hearing your war stories of people running for elevator doors, I’m only interested in hearing about how much I hate you.

Monday, January 08, 2007

Sgt. Pepper’s hated health club band

…You are a January joiner at the gym. You sit around on your fat lazy ass all year drinking bud heavy every weekend, take out and fast food. You have no concept of a healthy lifestyle except for the first two weeks of January. You use every single cardio machine for no more than 8 minutes at a time because if you stayed on for an actual workout you might work up a sweat at which point I’d have to hate you.

…You feel the incessant need to weigh yourself in the nude in the locker room in plain view. You are wearing nothing but a washcloth that barely covers your crack but you think this will make your break you when you weigh yourself. The extra 2 ounces of weight is not going to throw off the scale and will provide a lifetime of benefit to people like me who now having witnessed your wretched nakedness, have the most horrific images permanently burned into my memory and permanently burned into my hate.

…You walk around the locker room barefoot. I would never let my skin touch the disease ridden floors anyway, but what makes me curious is why you would. It’s obvious to everyone else that it is you spreading fungus throughout the locker room, my entire body feels infested with fungus just from the sight of those feet and I can’t be sure that you are not carrying bed bugs in your gym bag. Do us all the favor and wear something on your feet so I can stop hating you.

…You are changing in the gym locker room and place your bare ass on the bench. It is on the bench right next to your sneakers which somehow deserve a seat, right next to the shoes you wore to the gym, again curiously deserving a seat. Further on down the bench you will find your dirty gym bag and then right next to that, taking up the rest of the bench you will find none other than everything else that was in the gym bag, now placed outside the bag right next to it on the bench. You have somehow managed to take up an entire bench so me and 5 other dudes have put our shoes on standing up or completely bent over at which point someone will walk around the corner and so that his crotch hits my ass and then I hit you with hate.

…You are a perfectly healthy individual at the gym and take the elevator from the first floor to the second. You came to the gym to workout right? Ok just making sure because that whole walking up a flight of stairs might tire you out for the 1 mile you are going crawl in 45 minutes. Why even come to the gym? What kind of laziness drives someone to take an elevator at the gym when they are there to exercise and I’m there to hate.

…You are a January joiner at the gym and don’t understand the simple code of the cardio. There are basic rules any idiot can learn by viewing the process for no more than 37 seconds. There is a line, every treadmill is being used, you approach the line and see that a treadmill frees up, then begin to walk towards it not understanding why 5 people in line are yelling at you. You get on the treadmill, still clueless to the existence of other humans on this planet, you begin to run until you see an angry individual that is about to spit on you, but instead he decides to hate on you.

…You come to the gym after having just sprayed yourself with perfume. Ok, I know there are going to be some steakheads at the gym and that gets you all excited. But the perfume is an unnecessary step that makes me nauseous when I’m trying to run. You are on par with the guy that farts with every stride on the treadmill and you are right on par with my hate.

…You come to the gym and stand right in front of scanner while you search for your ID thereby blocking the 10 people behind you from entering. That’s it, take all the time in the world because you are the center of the universe, the moon and the stars revolve around you, in fact why even work out? Being the center of the universe and all you don’t need to be healthy, you don’t need to be fit, you just need to be hated.

Thursday, January 04, 2007

I still haven't found what I'm hating for

…You are a cook in the cafeteria, a hot girl comes up and asks you for scrambled eggs, the one that are already made. You being the considerate scumbag that you are say: “no honey, those are old, you might get sick, I’ll make you some fresh eggs.” Me being the next in line ask for scrambled eggs, you serve me the readymade eggs that would get the hot girl sick and would get you hated.

…You are driving in a parking lot and just to be cool, you decide to spin your tires and then skid out. Hey everyone, look at the cool guy in the ’87 Chevy peeling out, wow he really got my attention and really showed me what it means to be cool. If only you would do a donut, huh, oh, there you go, the coolness is complete with that donut and my hate is complete with you.

…You are driving a car whose muffler you have purposely made loud. Let’s take a perfectly good and functional car, then crack the muffler or whatever it is you do, to make it sound like a piece of shit. This way whenever you’re driving or peeling out in a parking lot, people can look at you and realize how hated you are.

…You refer to someone as being “bad” because she ate an entire pint of B & J’s or had two slice of cheesecake or gorged on some other decadent dessert. I’m guessing if you refer to this as bad, then you haven’t really seen much in your life have you? You were the kid afraid to go to the back of the bus, the kid that actually went door to door to sell useless crap for the school fundraisers, the kid that reminded the teacher to give homework, the kid that has grown into someone hated by me.

…You go to reach for one those little stir thingy’s for your coffee and touch every single one them before finally taking one. I greatly appreciate the effort you made to cover your sneeze with your hands, but that act was completely negated when you decided to touch every single stir before deciding on the very first one you touched. It’s as though you thought there was one magic stir, one prized stir that contained the golden ticket when all it contained was my hate.

…You are interviewing someone and ask the interviewee, don’t you have any questions for me? Then when the interviewee asks a question, you take this as your moment to test out your autobiography. Hey man I don’t actually care how you got into this business, are you going to pay me or not? Are you going to give me anxiety like my current boss or not? Are you going to give me chest pains or not? Are you going to be hated or not?

…You are a short order cook but don’t seem to understand the concept. This is how it works, when first customer orders, you start the process of cooking, then second customer orders, you start the process cooking, the third customer orders, you start the process, etc. upon completion you hand out each order. This is what actually happens, you take first customer’s order, you then questions their order as if they ordered wrong, you cook something that is maybe 40% of what was ordered, you stand around and wait, whatever it was that you were making is completed, then you have to correct it, then you hand it over to the first customer, then the second customer orders and then I hate you.

…You ask me if my lunch order is to stay or to go when you take my order, I answer to stay while holding my tray. You ask me again, if my lunch order is to stay or to go, while it is being prepared, I answer to stay, while holding my tray and pointing to it. You ask me for a third time if my lunch order is to stay or to go when my food is ready. If you can’t remember a simple fact that I want my food to stay or even notice the 4 ft. by 4ft. tray I’m carrying then there is no other alternative than to hate you.

…You claim that breakfast is served until 10AM. Knowing that I still have 15 minutes to get breakfast, I casually walk in to get me some delicious breakfast treats. Much to my dismay, you have already begun to remove the breakfast food in preparation for lunch. Ahem! Sir, does your sign not say until 10AM? What does the word until mean to you? To me that means that if at 9:55 in the AM, I want to get some oatmeal, well dammit there better be some oatmeal, not today’s soup special for lunch that won’t cut it. You say 10 and I mean 10 or I mean hate.