1.20 – You Know What I Hate?

Do you remember the guy on Mad TV? The one that came out in a bathrobe or a towel and screamed “YOU KNOW WHAT I HATE,” followed by things we all despise? I miss that guy. I wish that guy was still around because I would have a list of things for him to scream off right about now. But since he is just an actor who is probably doing other things at the moment – I’ll cover what I hate right here on my modest little blog.

YOU KNOW WHAT I HATE?

I hate prepubescent girls who carry around Victoria Secret bags. YOU ARE 10! You don’t have breasts. You haven’t even sprouted your first pit hairs. What the heck are you doing rocking thongs and lacy bras and garters? Who is looking at your underwear? And we wonder why Teen Mom is flooded with knocked up kids. Because their moronic parents drop them off at the mall in herds, for other people to babysit, and they swipe daddy’s credit card for panties! And then they go to school and show off those panties behind the bleachers and in hallways and BOOM! PREGGO CENTRAL! Buy your daughters grannie panties and a mismatched bra…just one. She will keep that under lock. I guarantee it.

YOU KNOW WHAT I HATE?

People who pass me money that is crumpled. Seriously? Unfold that twenty. Put that bundle of singles in your wallet beside the four bank cards you have and lay them out like a civilized little being. Do not toss your wad of stripper bills at me. If I have to touch your grimey money, the least you could do is present it in a reasonable manner. (Teens do this a lot and it makes me hate their faces. All of them. Forever).

YOU KNOW WHAT I HATE?

Teens swiping bank cards. You are the little sister of the cherry chested tween with the Victoria Secret bag. Why do you have a bank card? Do you know what an allowance is? Where the hell is your mother so I can slap the daylights out of her for creating a future bankruptcy claim.

YOU KNOW WHAT I HATE?

Guys who assume I don’t know how grimy they are. I know your game and I know your intent so lets spare ourselves the back and forth and let me make this crystal clear: I wouldn’t let you touch me if I was using someone else’s kitty. I am, in absolutely no way, interested in what anyone has to offer and if there was some odd chance in the universe I was remotely ready to be close to someone again, I wouldn’t waste it on a dull pencil like you. HAH! (No one will get that except one person). Now go cuddle up with your girlfriend and pretend you aren’t a low-down cheating prick.

YOU KNOW WHAT I HATE?

In-laws. In-laws are the work of the devil. Even when you are free of them, they lurk behind every corner and attempt to create difficult situations in an otherwise civilized experience. I’m gonna get really personal for a second and hope that a fat little gnome gets to read these words somehow: if you ever try to cause problems for my son by yapping that disgusting mouth of yours about me again, I will cause a hell in your world that not even your precious god could save you from. Period.

YOU KNOW WHAT I HATE?

People with superiority complexes. You might have a title next to your name. You might make more money than me. You might be a kinda-sorta-but-not-really successful writer. I do not admire your ugliness for one split second. I do not admire your sad little soul and your unnecessary need to try to make others feel less by publicly humiliating them. I should use this opportunity to teach you. But I won’t. I’m gonna let you make your grave and the next time you decide to be disrespectful – I pray I am a fly on the wall to watch you get socked in the mouth. It’s really easy to mutter something under your breath AFTER someone walks away. It’s really easy to talk down to someone you view as “beneath” you. That’s probably why you’re angry. A word of advice: Get a girl to lay down for two seconds and let the aggression go – I.E Get laid!

YOU KNOW WHAT I HATE?

Writing this. I hate that I’m so frustrated by people. I hate that I let some nonsense get under my skin. I hate that I considered walking away from people who show appreciation for my efforts because I hate dealing with stupidity. I hate that all I can think about is how much I hate things. I hate losing faith in the human species, in the ability to make progress. Do I want people to like my work? Of course. Does that mean I want people to like me/respect me? Yeah, I guess it does.

Today was a day filled with inspiration. None of it seems good. It may/may not find it’s way into my writing (outside of this post) but it was inspiration nonetheless. Of what not to be.

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