Tuesday, February 24, 2009

8 Things I Hate

Note: I wrote most of this while recovering from the stomach flu. I lost 8 pounds and envied the dead. Thankfully, I feel way better now, but here's last week's positively frothing nest of grump...


I enjoy classical music. I can tolerate fat people. I like vocal harmonies and choirs singing in unison. But. I. Absolutely. Hate. Opera. It's so pretentious. And it all sounds the same. Some porky bitch has lungs the size of garbage bags and howls like a dinosaur. It doesn't delight my senses or lift my withered soul. It's just boring. I'd rather kick pretty flowers. At least I'd feel something.

The first time I saw someone oozing some neon yellow sauce onto a bologna sandwich, I shuddered. It looks disgusting. The first time I tasted it, on a hot dog, I nearly threw up. It tastes disgusting. The sound of mustard being squeezed out the little jimmy hole of a yellow squeeze bottle? Melts my ears. It sounds disgusting. Mustard is yellow terrorism. Case closed.


3.Subculture aficionados
I actually don't have any beef with people who are legitimately into something, be it cars or comics or beef. My problem is with people who won't give it a rest. Enough about your bike, your workout regimen, your veganism, your cat, your computer, your garden, and your commitment to Christ. See my eyes wandering around the room? I'm looking for a place to cry.

I consider myself to be a pretty big hockey fan, but I'll only talk about it when prompted. Why? Because I believe in America.

4.Having a body
Oy, my stomach! Sausage coils rumble through mein jungle. Dark rivers of hate, dissolving all canoes. I got Satan in my guts. He's got a cabin down there. And he's doing push ups on the roof.

See the stomach flu post. And this. And this.

Thanks for blocking my view of the heavens, asshole.

6.Flat screen TV filled bars
There's a sports bar a couple blocks away from me called Boundary. The number of flat screen TV's lining the walls is appalling. Being anywhere near that place is brutal. But hey, dicks gotta eat and drink someplace, don't they? Gotta watch the game, drink $6 beers, laugh at Bud Light commercials, hate fags, eat greasy food, groom the goatee, reek of Axe, rock a bluetooth ear piece, and brag about how awesome your weekend was.

I can drink and watch TV at home. I go to bars to fail at girls.

January kicks my ass regularly. It comes along in the middle of a good for nothing wintertime filled with depression and freeze. Next year, I'm going somewhere warm for the entire month of January. I'll hit up Florida and California, maybe Texas. I'm leaving January like a bag of shit on my rabbi's doorstep. Shalom!

I'm going out on a limb here, but I think slavery is wrong.


I know. I know.


Pancake Master said...

I believe in America too, Kid Douche.

I believe in America, too.

Anonymous said...

slavery was a myth created by greeting card companies to sell top hats to indians....

jeez i know this is a blog kid douche...but check your facts!