Thursday, April 30, 2009

My hate makes your hate look like fluffington!

Guestington here. Honored to share my hate. I’ve a list of five to start, but I’ve tried to pick from within the 36-42 range of my top six hundred, because I want this to be more interesting to read than a list of the obvious things that everybody hates. For example, Rush Limbaugh, bananas, being tickled, and performance art are generally hated by everyone, and thus we’ve all spent enough time thinking and hearing about why they suck. But don’t be fooled by my rankings; I hate the following five things with a hatred so intense it makes Ann Coulter look like the Easter Bunny.

Get ready to relate!
  1. 100 calorie packs. I have serious objections with the amount of packaging involved in making people feel better about eating foods that aren’t really food anyway. Why can’t you just count out seven wheat thins from a much larger box of wheat thins and be done with it? I’ve also noticed that the 100 calorie packs of the seemingly more delicious foods, such as cookies, often contain only sad imitations of what I was expecting. Actually, I think they’re all just wheat thins cleverly disguised as other snacks. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, go get yourself a 100 calorie pack of Oreos next time you’re in the mood for some Oreo cookies but you are too full of self hate to allow yourself what you truly desire. You’ll see what I mean. Then you’ll eat some actual Oreos in addition to the three packs of chocolate chalk-dust coated crackers you just wolfed down.
  2. Chewing gum. Gross. No exceptions.
  3. Cold. As in, the state of feeling cold; not necessarily the entire state of Alaska. I like scarves. I like hats. I love the word mukluk so much that I knowingly use it inappropriately all winter long. But there’s nothing worse than having to endure Florida-style air conditioning without unlimited access to slippers and personal-sized space heaters. I don’t know who decided that 70ish degrees is an appropriate thermostat setting for our air conditioners when our internal thermostats are set to 98.6 degrees. And I’m not fond of winter, but my distaste turns to hatred when it refuses to back down, even into the summer. Equally perturbing is my resistance to just move to Miami or San Diego and be done with it. Because if I were to do that, then (argh!) I just know I would actually miss hot chocolate and bonfires so much that I would experience at least a tinge of melancholic nostalgia. And I hate melancholic nostalgia so much that it deserves a spot on my top ten list. (Not that I have one; I hate top ten lists.)
  4. Small coffee cups. These are not to be confused with the tiny tea cups used by English people in my imagination. Perhaps I should say small coffee mugs. Undersized, actually, is a more appropriate descriptor. Who is happy with 8 ounces of coffee? It’s not just the insufficiency of the size, but the pity I feel for the waitress. And yes, I am really only talking about undersized coffee mugs at restaurants, because any respectable coffee drinker would not tolerate the undersized coffee mug in their cabinet. Who has room, with all those other decent-sized mugs that people keep gifting us? We all already have too many. We all already struggle to fit together the ceramic puzzle of the ones we have. If they’re not good enough for our homes, why do otherwise respectable restaurants (and also Waffle Houses) continue to force us to endure them? (And while I’m on the subject, coffee mugs are not appropriate gifts for your caffeinated friends. We already have too many, and we can’t get rid of the ones we have because we feel guilty because they were all gifts and many of them say things that lead to melancholic nostalgia. If you want to get us a coffee-related gift, get us some coffee. But truly, you should probably just go entirely in another direction with the gift ideas, because we’re particular about our coffee too.)
  5. Babies. There. I said it. Please don’t challenge me on this one. I know I’m not alone.

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