Tuesday, April 03, 2007

If you see something; Hate something

...You pass by people in the hall and the only thing you can ever say is how are you. I walk by you and you say, how are you. Okay, a normal greeting. I see you later that morning, I hold the door for you and you say, how are you. Hmm that’s strange, a simple thanks would have done, but since you ask, I’m not bad. The cafeteria, same day, how are you. You know, I don’t think you’ve ever said anything else to me, let me pay closer attention. In the coffee room that afternoon…how are you. Holy shit, you’re freaking me out, you are borderline schitz and you are completely hated.

...You can’t find your seat at a sporting event. It’s like a riddle, so difficult. Gate – section – box – row – seat. All very clearly marked and all in sequential order. Might I suggest you approach this from left to right. Otherwise, you may be looking for the row or seat before you made it to your section. Enter the appropriate gate, go to your section, find the correct box, walk down to your row, slide over to your seat where you find me sitting there, hating you.

...You are incapable of making a coffee cup that doesn’t leak. In the past 2 years I don’t think a day has passed where I have not had some bit of coffee drip out either onto my tie, my shirt, my pants, my desk or even dribble down my chin. In the world today, there is pretty advanced technology, we can make computers that think and learn from their mistakes but we can make a damn coffee cup that doesn’t leak and a manufacturer that isn’t hated?

...You yell “HATS OFF” the second the announcer at yankee stadium says please rise. Do you even know why people remove their hats during the national anthem? No? Neither do I, which is exactly why I would never demand that some complete stranger sitting 5 rows (not sections people) in front of me, remove his hat. Is it a matter of respect? Well certainly not, seeing the way you are dressed, the way you speak, the way you yell at the vend-ahs, the way you maul the red sox fan and the way you get hated.

...You have the pleasure of sitting next to me at a baseball game, being a complete stranger and then have the audacity to ask me for a piece of my pretzel. Do we know each other? You are sitting next to me and your cougar girlfriend sees my pretzel and instead of keeping her thoughts private, she thinks aloud and says, I want a pretzel, gimme a pretzel. Listen honey, maybe 15 years ago that shit worked, but it’s clear you’ve seen some better days, the pack and sixer a day are really showing their effects on you and it isn’t pretty. While the ravages of time may have effected your ability to get what you want, there has been no effect on my ability to hate you.

...You open up yet another Irish pub. What the world needs now is another cookie cutter Irish pub, like I need a hole in the head. And where do all these Irish bar tenders come from? Is there a bar tender exchange program? If I go to Ireland, will I find a bunch of divey bars run by annoying Americans? We have enough Connolly’s, Oneil’s, McCaffrey’s and McHateyou’s.

...You send me an email at 5 in the morning asking for something as basic as an exchange rate, then by the time I get into work, you have already asked someone else, never telling me that you went to someone else for the answer. What the? since when is getting in by 8 in the morning not early enough? And since when is hating you by 6AM not early enough?

...You are a group of fat girls that says to the one thin girl, oh girl, you so skinny you can eat whatever you want. Or, Girlfriend, you’re eating those chocolates again how do you keep so skinny? You want to know why? Because girlfriend knows when to say when. What’s the poor girl supposed to say in such a situation, that’s right, I’m thin, you’re not, so let’s all go eat cake. Unfortunately, the caucus of fat women don’t think like that, the caucus of fat women are ganging up on the pretty girl and the caucus of me, is hating up on you.

No comments: