Tuesday, March 27, 2007

Business in the front; hatred in the back

...You attempt to bring luggage through a revolving door. Wow this city IS crazy, they have doors that revolve, but how are you supposed to get your luggage through? How about you don’t pick up your suitcase, but then try drag it behind you on the little wheels, but don’t even keep right behind, let the suitcase extend out to it’s full capacity so that when you walk through the revolving door it gets stuck. Also, make sure to ignore the regular door right next to it, it has a sign that says, please use revolving door, especially with luggage and especially with hate.

...You make corrections to a memo and write your “corrections” in hieroglyphics. I’m confused, do you want me to make some sort of change to the text or do you want me to draw you a fucking picture? You’re not signing your name here, you are trying to convey an actual point, try making legible. I’m happy to play this game of back and forth here, but if you actually want something done try printing the words and I’ll try hating you.

...You wear shoulder pads. Hey working girl, 1985 came and went, then came back and went away again. The power red blazer with the football player shoulder pads doesn’t really give you that extra edge, it makes you look rather mannish. Maybe you’ll start playing racquetball with the boss so you can get in that QT. If you’re trying to make an impression try doing your job well and try hating yourself.

...You are the Spring fever gym joiners. You go to the gym 3 weeks out of the year. The first week in January, the first week of Spring and the week before Memorial day. We’re two thirds of the way through. You have no idea of the rules of the gym, all of us are waiting in line for the treadmills, it’s not some new workout routine, it’s pretty common sense here, why else would we all be waiting? Those signs posted all over the gym that say 30 minute limit during peak hours are not a suggestion, and no peak hours are not 9 to 5, you see in the logical and rational world, everyone knows that people work during those hours, so think about it in that tiny little brain of yours, right before and right after would be peak hours. Not to mention that working your fat ass for an hour a day a total of 3 weeks a year does not get you in shape, it only gets you hate.

...You own Nickelback CD. Please tell me that was given to in some sort free CD giveaway. It’s people like you that actually buy this crap that perpetuate the production of such music. I’m pretty sure they have like 5 albums, it’s all one long continuous song that they just cut into 5 forty minute segments. If you stop buying, I’ll stop hating.

...You are in a bathroom stall doing what needs to be done and make noises as though you are lifting weights. Ok, the obesity epidemic has really gotten carried away when pooping exudes too much energy. It’s as though your life is so hard just because you ate a bucket of chicken and had a six pack of beer and now you have to struggle to clear out your system. Next time you have to go, take the stairs to another floor, struggle to build your crowsnest and that way I won’t have to hate you.

...You are on an extremely crowded subway, so crowded you are literally sandwiched between two people, where instead of making an effort to hold on to a rail you decide that I will hold you up. When the train starts moving, rather than fight centrifugal force, you see me as your stopping block and I see you as my hate.

...You call someone sweetie. What are you like 20? There 2 people that can call me sweetie, my girlfriend and my mother. That’s it. You don’t even know my name, yet you are calling me sweetie, just because you are bringing me coffee doesn’t mean we’re sweethearts it just means you’re hated.

Wednesday, March 21, 2007

If hating you is wrong, I don't want to be right

...You are harassing me to have lunch with you. The situation has become dire where the hours of 12 to 2 require intense strategic planning so as to avoid your ever present question of asking me to lunch. I don’t know what it is about eating with me that makes the top of your daily annoyance list, but whatever the case may be you insist on dining with yours truly and you insist on being hated by yours truly.

...You talk about your Saturn like it’s a Rolls. I understand that they give you a free coffee down at the Saturn dealership when they change your oil, that’s a huge a perk, I know. But seriously, the little third door doesn’t impress me, nor does the annual convention of Saturn owners. I just want you to come to grips with the fact that you drive a Saturn and I just want you to come to grips with my hate.

...You corner me in the cafeteria to ask me to eat with you. Listen Saturn, just because you are twice my age and I am more senior than you, doesn’t mean I’m going to give you advice on handling the crazy lady in the corner. She’s your age, talk to her about what it was like to grow up in the 50’s or something, ask her where she was when JFK was shot, ask her for the parallels of Vietnam and Iraq, I really don’t care about the betterment of your career, I only care about the betterment of my hate.

...You open my door when eating lunch and say, sorry don’t mean to bother you. Uh, yes you do, that’s exactly what you meant to do. You wanted to come in, stick your nose in my food and inquire as to what I am eating, and why I’m not eating with you. Seriously, ask me one more fucking time and I’m going to officially complain instead of blogging you. You’d think I was a 24 yr old woman with a hot body and not a 30 yr old prick that hates you.

...You pre flush at the urinal in the bathroom. AH HA! I caught you Saturn, I know it’s you, you’re so busted. What’s the F’n deal with flushing the urinal before or during your pee? You are responsible for numerous gagging sessions when I go to take a piss and see a little pool yellow at the bottom of the urinal. You’ve got this process all wrong and that’s disturbing. I’m now wondering if you wipe before you poop and I’m wondering if I hate before I blog you.

...You incessantly ramble on about how things were done at your old job. One time at band camp, one time at band camp, one time at band camp, one time at band camp. Hey Dorothy, you’re not in band camp anymore, now shut the fuck up. This is a new job and no one cares how “they” did things at your last company. You ever think they did things wrong over there at the Saturn factory? You ever think that was a difference business and has absolutely zero relevance to what you do now? Ever think I’d hate you so much?

Tuesday, March 20, 2007

The Global War On Hate

...You are my boss and tell me that you do not like the way I sit in my chair and must stop. Is this fucking legal? Is my posture indicative of the work I perform? I really don’t think that has anything to do with my performance, but it has everything to do with my hate.

...You are my boss, see me working and make the comment, oh you do do work. Oh I actually work huh? I guess showing up everyday to listen to your paranoia isn’t enough of a job in itself? And what about my work, the work I do then you tell me not to do because that might actually be a good thing for the company at which point you think your boss will ask, well if it’s so good for the company, why didn’t we do this before? If it’s so good for the blog, why didn’t we hate you before?

...You are my boss and come to my office to tell me to come to your office (don’t even bother with that) and see that I am eating a yogurt. As I proceed to finish the last spoonful of yogurt, you stand there in utter amazement that I would actually rather eat that last bit of food than to come running to your office about your next paranoid scheme and my next heart felt hate.

...You are my boss that decides to have a “conference” and I use that term lightly, plans the even and schedules the event without anyone’s input, namely mine, then hands out a schedule that happens to have me giving a presentation the next day. Were you planning on telling me that one lady? I know you would love nothing more than for me to fail, but little did you know, I make presentations for fun, I eat pieces of shit like you for breakfast, I actually do eat pieces of shit for breakfast and I hate you for lunch.

...You are my boss that comes to my office every day and says, you better not be interviewing or I’ll kill you. hmmm, let’s see what’s wrong with that statement shall we? I better not be interviewing, ok, so pay my ass. I’m even saying you should pay me what I’m worth, I’m saying take that 2 million you made last year, now cut in half, now you give it to me for the pain and suffering, then maybe, just maybe would I consider staying through the end of the year. Take the second half of that statement, or you will kill me, what if I leave, which is what you really want, you will murder me, perhaps you are confusing that with me hating you.

...You are my boss that runs the office like the bush administration. I’m only allowed to tell you good news. If there is a mistake, I have to find a way to prove that it wasn’t your fault, then pin in it on the most junior person, then fire him. I can’t have any independent thought in any way, shape or form, if we don’t already do it, we can’t change now. Money? Ha, you’re going to pay the dumbest people the most money so they will never challenge you, never have ambition, never expose that you know nothing and always expose that I hate you.

...You are my boss that yelled at me for receiving a cell phone call after 5:30. You know it’s after business hours, I don’t mind being here to get my job done, well yes I do, but if someone calls, I’m going to answer the phone and no I’m not telling people that they call my office phone so that you can pull my phone records to see that I was using a company line to make personal calls. Try checking my internet usage records, then you can see that I hate you.

...You are one of the espionage bobblehead yesmen my boss sends around the office to check the status of my whereabouts. YES I’m in my fucking office and YES I’m fucking working, if you call writing about hating you working. I know you are checking on me to please the insane one in the corner office because you suck and you are not marketable and you are hate.

Friday, March 09, 2007

Stuck in the middle with hate

...You are looking for something, it is not in the very first place you look and you then proclaim that you have lost the item for which you were looking. Then after looking for an additional 6 seconds you find it. Hmmm, where are my keys, let me check this here table, oh not there, damn you I lost them, there’s no need to continue looking, I check the first place that popped into my brain there’s not a chance my keys could be in the bedroom, the kitchen, a coat, on the computer table or anywhere else, there is only a very good chance that might hate could be for you.

...You are on a plane and get caught by the bathroom bug. This is when the pilot says we will begin our descent in 30 minutes and be on the ground in 40. Ok this gives you half an hour to take a piss, BUT this is when half the plane feels they need to rush to wait in line for the bathroom even though there are people lined down the aisle so that those waiting put their crotches in peoples faces while they put hate on you.

...You are flying on a plane and need to stand up from your seat, but in order for to stand up, you need to molest the seat in front of you. A sign you know you shouldn’t leave this house is when you can bring yourself to physically stand up from the sitting position. Let me see how much I can possibly annoy the person sitting front of me before he turns around to hate me.

...You are walking down the aisle of an airplane and touch every single seat as you walk by. When you walk on a sidewalk, do you use a cane? Oh wait I forgot, you don’t walk anywhere, you drive your car three houses down the street because exerting that much energy would be normal and conducive to you losing some of that fat ass that you lug around all day. Try skipping the free bag of pretzels this flight, try skipping the complimentary beverage and try skipping my hate.

...You are the pilot of an airplane and yell through the intercom no less than 7 times a minute on a 6 hour flight that everyone needs to buckle their seatbelts. I swear this guy had cameras throughout the plane or some type of alarm sensor that when ever someone stands they get the ‘DING’ Ladies and Gentlemen, I have the fasten seatbelt sign illuminated for a reason, the reason being that I want you to stay in your seats, I am the pilot, I know what’s best. So when did Bush start flying planes? I guess this guy is also the decider, he decides when I can stand, when I can pee, when I can lay down across the seats, but only I can decide when I hate.

...You put me on speaker phone. If you don’t have other people in the room you are not allowed to use the speaker phone option this is rule No. 439 of the ihateyouif rulebook. This is clearly speaker abuse and you should be fined. Have you ever listened to yourself on speaker? You sound like you are chewing a bag of marbles. If you are on speaker phone, you also don’t have to talk any louder and you don’t have to stick your face into the phone to be heard, kind of defeats the whole purpose, but it doesn’t defeat my hate.

...You are finishing up at a urinal in the rest room and I am just making my initial approach to the other, you then strike up a convo as though we are going to be spending the next 10 minutes together. There’s so much wrong with this situation I don’t think I even care to relive such an experience. Let’s get this straight, rest room pleasantries are limited to the following, Verbal: what’s up, hey, how’s it going. Non Verbal: head nod and stiff lower lip half smile or the all too famous HATE.

...You ask if I’m ready for the weekend. Nope not quite ready, thought I’d pull an all nighter here on Friday. I’ll never quite be ready for that weekend, I mean not working for two days, how will I ever get ready for that, damn I wish they made us work right through the weekend, weekend? HA! That word means nothing to me and my hate means everything to you.

...You say you haven't had a vacation in two years when I tell you I just got back from vaca. Oh poor you, don’t cry for me, my life is sooooo haaarrrd, wah wah boo hoo. Shut the fuck up you little bitch. No one is telling you not to take time off, I can’t help it if you’re such a loser that you either have no friends to go with or you are too pussy to ask your boss for time off. I have the most ridiculous boss with the most ridiculous standards and even I take vacations and even I give you hate.

Monday, March 05, 2007

To everything, hate, hate hate

...You blow dry your balls at the gym. Humble defined reads: “Marked by meekness or modesty in behavior, attitude, or spirit; not arrogant or prideful.” This word is apparently not in your vocabulary along with words such as manners, decency, courtesy, shame and propriety. There is however one word that comes directly to mind when I, or anyone else for the matter, see you and that of course is hate.

...You try to bro down with a black guy at work everytime you walk past his cube. Is this your way of “keepin it real”? I’m not sure you really understand, middle aged white guy from the burbs doesn’t speak like a rapper, in fact black guy in an office doesn’t speak like a rapper. What I believe you also fail to understand is that you attempt to speak “street” to a guy that is Haitian doesn’t make any sense, it only makes hate.

...You come into my office when the door is closed, say nothing, then leave without closing the door behind you. Maybe you didn’t notice, but my door is closed, that means I’m in my office surfing the internet, picking my nose and farting, now beat it. Oh you remember how you disturbed me by opening a closed door? Well let’s not return the tank on empty, close the door behind you or I’ll return the tank with hate.

...You are the one and only twenty something white male working in an Asian massage parlor and when I go to get a foot massage, it’s from you. Since when is the ancient art of Chinese reflexology performed by some 24 year old white kid? And since when, among a room full of Asian women, do you choose to assign the one white male “masseuse” to the one white male patron? It’s not even that I have an issue with a man doing this, I treat it as an athletic trainer (I was skiing after all), but at least have the guy be Asian and at least have the guy be hated.

...You believe acting is difficult. Oh please can I have the arduous job of playing make believe for a couple days a year? That would be such a tough life, those 15 hour days you have to work must be just awful, especially when half the time is spent in your trailer studying the 4 lines your stupid ass can’t remember. I think the world has been shown that acting is a talentless profession when an American Idol contestant wins an oscar. Well Academy, you’ve just shown the world that your entire life has been a joke and a waste and your entire award process is pointless and hated.

...You have an aisle seat on an airplane and arrive first for the row. The individual with the window seat boards the plane and goes to take his or her seat. Aisle seat patron (we’ll call him douchebag for arguments sake), feels the only way to allow window seat, and middle seat patrons to sit would be to give the half move my knees to the side effort. So you are about 6 foot 3 250, your knees touch the top of the seat in front of you and you can’t take 5 seconds to stand up so someone can get by? Out of all the things in life, it is this that you have deemed to be just too much? Out of all the ill-mannered things you could do in life, it is this for which you choose to be hated?

...You comment on my blog that some people of lower economic classes can’t afford an ipod, let alone a computer because I’ve chosen to make fun of the guy at the gym using a discman. Oh Nate, Nate, Nate…so many holes in this argument, where do I begin. How about the obvious? It’s a stupid blog making fun of the world, not some political, class warfare, social commentary, ever see someone driving Pinto or wearing Reebok pumps? Yeah they deserve to be laughed at. Second, your biggest error, it’s a membership gym, it costs maybe 100 bucks a month, I wouldn’t know because I can’t be bothered to read my credit card statements, but you see, if you can afford to pay $100 a month, well my friend, you can afford at least a basic MP3. Finally, just to end this banter, since when has 50 bucks become living the life of high society? I think they even give shuffles away for free just like I give hate away for free.