Because I am not feeling at all original or creative today, this post was inspired by her post
. I would have left it as a comment, but I am WAY long winded and it wouldn’t fit.
Things I hate that everyone loves
Sex and the City – I have never, ever watched an entire episode. I have occasionally seen a few minutes, at which point, I stabbed myself in the eyeballs and threw up my spleen. I hate every single one of these women, hate the characters, hate the clothes, hate, hate, HATE! The commercial that I keep seeing for the movie may end up being used as part of my defense after I have seen it for the thirty-seven thousandth time and had to stab someone.
– Miami, Las Vegas, New York – whatever. I hate them all. You can take it with a grain of salt, given my reality TV affliction, but I hate
CSI with a passion. In what bizarro alternate universe do lab techs interrogate witnesses? And get week-long tests results in 10 minutes? And work in fancy, dark-ass rooms? (Turn on some damned lights, will ya?) Not only is this show ridiculous and stupid, it’s killing our justice system
. If I want a show about forensics, I’ll stick with Dexter. I don’t know how realistic it is, but Dex is sexaaay!
Flavored “Martinis” – Because they are not martinis! Don’t get me wrong – I don’t like real martinis, either – I hate gin. And green olives. And I might taste a fake-tini and thinks it’s pretty good. It’s not the drinks themselves – it’s the mixing of vodka with something else and putting “tini” on the end. It makes me want to stab someone (I do a lot of wanting to stab someone, don’t I?)
– That shit is ugly. And I like
clogs. Just not those horrible Crocs ones. They are cute on kids – little
kids. But after the grade school years, they make you look like you have flippers. And brain damage. I feel I must disclose here that I do
own a cute pair of Crocs sandals.
Dancing with the Stars – I know tons of young(ish) people watch it, but I can’t help but feel that this is the Lawrence Welk of the 21st century. Grandmas watch this show (not my grandma, though. She likes westerns and hot wings and bars). I’ve tried to give a shit, but I just can’t. I will go dancing (badly – I even screw up the two-step, but it’s fun), but I can’t watch dancing (unless it’s the old folks at a wedding – I love them). Nor do I give a rat’s ass about these “stars”. Maybe, just maybe if it were George Clooney, Gorin Visnjic, Henry Simmons, Tom Selleck, Kix Brooks and Dion-the-waiter-last-week-from-the-Capital-Grill I would watch. If they danced naked. Yeah, I’d definitely watch it then.
– Ok, I know that they aren’t necessarily loved
by most people, but if I have to hear, “But they take care of other
bugs” one more time in response to my hatefulness, I will scream (and – let’s be honest – probably want to stab someone). I don’t care if they eat other bugs. I don’t care if they write and perform their own folk music. I don’t care if they clean my house. I. Hate. Them. The only way I will (begrudgingly) give them even the slightest
break is if they suddenly gain magical ass-shrinking powers which I can harness and use for my own gain. But for now? HATE. When I look at even the tiniest spider, I see Aragog
. And then I throw up. And then I cry. And then I completely lose my mind. And if no one else is home to kill it – hoo-boy. Because there are two options – 1) kill it myself and possibly suffer a nervous breakdown, and 2) move out, because if I don’t kill it and it disappears somewhere, I will not be able to live in my house again, ever. I used to sic Pussty on them, because he was the world’s greatest spider-mouser, but since he has gone on to greener pastures, I am shit out of luck. The current dog and cat get a big fat F-minus at Spider. So if I want to keep the house, I am forced to grab the vacuum attachment, suck the vile beast up, spray hairspray, Tilex and spider-killer spray directly into the hose, take the vacuum outside, douse it in gasoline, and light it on fire. Then throw up. While I cry.
Things I love that everyone hates
Reality TV – Ok, there are some people who really hate it. And then there are a whole bunch of people that pretend to hate it. And then there is me. I shamelessly revel in my trashy TV love. All the drama (“but I love him”) and hypocrisy (“wahhh – she’s playing for herself”) and hilarity (“the 10th person voted off: Ozzy”) (HAHAHAHA). There is nothing more entertaining to me than a bunch of attention whoring dumbasses having an Attention Whore Dumbass Tournament. Also – Reality TV had Anderson Cooper, and hello? Anderson Cooper. Smart? Check. Smokin’ ass? Check. (Anderson – call me!) (Yes – I know he’s gay, but I don’t care)
– I’m sorry, but while you see dirty, stinky, no good hippies, I see potential sex partners (you know, if I were single and gave a shit about finding sex partners) While I appreciate a good Clooney or Pitt, this also gets me going:
– I know!!!
How on Earth can I hate Crocs when I wear these:
It’s a mystery – it really is. But I love them with all my old dirty hippy heart. I’m shamelessly in love with their soft-sole goodness.
Moustaches – I don’t know why, but I am a sucker for some facial hair (and I don’t want to think about it too deeply because I might think about how my dad has facial hair, and LA LA LA LA I CAN’T HEAR YOU LA LA LA LA! What do you think I am – some kind of sicko? Besides, my dad is the anti-hippie, so it evens out).
Anyway. . .Beards? Woo-hoo!
Goatees? Oh Yeah!
But moustaches like this?
Come to Mama. . .