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.