I Hate, Take 3

As with all my other rants, I am pretty sure I'm fixin' to piss some people off.  This blog is based off of my personal experiences, not scientific fact (although I'd like to think I'm right all the time).

I hate when I have to pee really bad, and the fat woman (who looks as though she just devoured four other women) in line ahead of me at Target backs up her fat mobile (aka electric wheelchair) over my foot.  Adding insult to injury, fatty bo-batty, you're really going to pay with a check?  I didn't even know banks still made checks.  Oh, but wait, you changed your mind and decided to apply for a Target credit card?  Right now, in line?  Perfect.  And you don't remember your own phone number and have to fish your address book out of your saddle bag? Take your time, Bertha.  I'm in no rush...May I please borrow one of those Depends you just bought with your coupons? 

I hate people who are too lazy to return their shopping cart to the store. Really?  Pushing it that extra twenty feet back (because I know damned well you were too lazy to park farther away than that) is going to devastate you physically?  Hey, stupid, I can see you trying to stealthily shove that cart in front of that Chevy Impala.  It always rolls.  Usually into my front quarter panel.  I hate you. Walk the cart back, you worthless piece of fecal matter.

I hate the woman I watched for five minutes trying to get the front end of her cart over the grassy curb in the parking lot to prevent it from rolling.  She was sweating.  Profusely.  She could have just pushed it the twenty feet back to the store (see above), and not messed up her clown make up. 

I hate that I had to explain to my mom what FUBU meant after she bought a pair of FUBU tennis shoes.  FYI-it means, For Us By Us (it's an African-American company).  My mom is white.

I hate when nurses think it's okay to keep a plastic ice cream tub overflowing with used syringes in their kitchen.  Sure, go ahead and continue to serve food.  Who cares if Gertie gets poked in the tongue with a dirty needle?  What's a little Hep C between friends?

I hate when we're doing crunches at boot camp and I have to fart.  Have you ever tried holding in a fart while your sphincter is being pushed to it's limit?  Mmm Hmm.  That's what I thought.

I hate crafts.  I associate crafts with hoarding.  Really, you're going to save 327,052 bread ties so you can make all your friends (and 47 cats) necklaces?  Also, lets stop with the beaded necklaces you're trying to sell at art shows.  You're stringing beads onto wire.  I did that when I was 6.  You didn't see me charging $75 a pop for one of those awesome necklaces.  Hey, why not make some friendship bracelets and pot holders while you're at it?   Don't get me wrong, I do have a friend who is VERY talented, and I love her knitted goods:).  This takes talent.  Stringing beads is done by retarded kids daily...Not that retarded kids aren't talented.  They give good hugs.

I hate that my phone auto-corrects the word "hon" to the name "Jon".  The person to whom I am texting this term of endearment is not named Jon.  Thanks, auto correct. 

I hate that I had to mention to someone today that chicken wing bones do not belong in a swimming pool.  Nor does the gallon (glass) bottle of Seagram's.  I understand that you're a slum hotel that is filled with pedophiles, so (hopefully) no children are present, but you still have to play by the rules.  I mean, I'd really hate to see one of your pedophile renters slice their dick off on that broken bottle....  On second thought, leave that bottle there. 

I hate that one of my clients won't host a gay pride night at his bar because his Caribbean crowd said they'd boycott.  If they're that uptight, maybe they should go back to the Carribean.  I'm sure there are no homosexuals there, you closed-minded idiots.

I hate that one of my licensed mobile home parks lied and told about half of their occupants that I was requiring them to remove all the plants from their lots, or I was going to fine them.  I also hate that after lying about this, the manager proceeded to give all the residents (456, to be exact) my phone number.  They're 84.  They have nothing better to do than call and yell at me for harassing the elderly.  They can't hear, so I have to yell to explain to them that I didn't write that.

I hate that my next door neighbors always look wet.  No matter what time of the day it is.  I'm pretty sure they have a perpetual shower.

I hate that my across-the-street neighbors are just the opposite.  A two year old should not have dread locks.  Give that greasy, sticky kid with no pants a shower, please...And while you're at it, shave your legs and armpits, mom.

I hate that people use obesity as a disability and a reason not to exercise.  There are amputees that still work out.  Hell, I know one that does triathalons.  Put down the quadruple bacon stacked, fried chicken -for-a-bun-cheeseburger and go swimming.  No joint impact, you won't sweat, and it's fun.  What's your excuse now, crybaby?  Not enough time?  How much time does it take you to savor the taste of that chocolate dipped, sugar wrapped, butter filled, breaded, deep fried twinkie?  Boom!  Five laps.

I hate when people push vitamins on me.  I eat a balanced diet.  If you're so into purity, why are you popping these microcrystalline cellulose filled capsules? I was a chemist at a pharmaceutical company before making it big.  I know a thing or two about this subject.  Just because your product was reviewed by the FDA, it does not mean it was APPROVED by the FDA.  FDA neither regulates nor approves vitamins.  Keep that in mind when you decide to flush your money down the toilet on a bottle of pills made of nothing more than filler.  If you want to get your vitamins, learn to eat right.