Monday, May 14, 2007

A Rolling Stone Gathers No Hate

…You come round to my seat before take off to ask if I would like a massage during the flight, why yes, yes I would love a massage, but then you never show up. I’m concerned about my first class treatment here. Maybe you haven’t heard but I write a blog, I have about 10 readers and about a million hates.

…You stop me at everyone point of airport check in to say, excuse me sir, this is for first class only. Yeah asshole, I am in first class. Do I really need to be wearing a suit or be crusty old to be sitting in first class? Maybe I’m some over privileged obnoxious kid that blows his money on cheap whores, hard drugs and first class airfare, does that make sense? No, so perhaps I’m wearing jeans because I’m not at work and because I’m hating you.

…You are the city planner for London that decided garbage cans would just make too much sense. Either I’m blind or this city doesn’t believe in public garbage cans, or should I say rubbish. Either way they are about as few and far between as their non toll public rest rooms. Its like every rest room is at a club and you have to tip out the towel boy. Please, just let me throw this out, let me take a piss, then let me hate you.

…You sit next to me on a puddle jumper plane, chat me up for about half the ride, then lean in real close and say, btw I’m sick as a dog, I’ve got this cold I just can’t kick. Thanks fucknut now I’m sick and now I hate.

…You create a currency with more worthless coins than the US. You got your 1 pence coin, 2 pence coin, 10 pence coin, 20 pence coin (I think we’re just about at a penny’s worth of value) 50 pence coin, 1 pound coin, 2 pound coin. At what point do country’s stop producing worthless money? I’m still pondering the penny’s existence, I’m now pondering the pence’s existence, but I’m certainly not pondering my hate’s existence.

…You are a driver in London that doesn’t know where the hotel is and has to ask me. The first time you passed by it, I was being polite, I didn’t want to embarrass you, the second time we passed by it, I got a little anxious, I just wanted to get there already, the third time we passed by I had to point out that I’m from NY, you’re from London, this is your equivalent of broadway, and you can’t find the hotel based on the numbered address. The fourth time we passed by it, I had to remind you that you are ill equipped to handle being a driver in your own city and the fifth time we passed by it, I had to state that I hate you.

…You are wearing a wrist of 4 inch thick metal bracelets going through the security line reserved for first class and don’t take the metal blocks off your arm. Either you belong on some sort of social welfare for the mentally challenged or you are that much of an obnoxious, entitled bitch you think that security rules don’t apply to you. You know this is going to set off the machine, you just have to know this, yet you proceed to hold up the entire line and proceed to accelerate my hate.

…You are the crazy lady in St. James park at 9AM that stumbled up to the Asian man, got right in his face, yelled something in jibberish, then laughed like there was no tomorrow. After stumbling by the Asian man, you then found your way into the tall grass where you lifted up your skirt and took a piss. Holy crap, you’re a dude and you’re hated.

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