Some Of The Things I Hate, In No Particular Order:
- Being the last one to get the joke
- Walking around all day wondering to yourself, “What stinks?” and realizing it has been you
- Waking up early thinking you’re ahead of the game and what a great start to the work day only to find out it’s Saturday
- Grocery shopping at 2:00 p.m. on a weekday when all the old people are there
- Getting stuck behind two of them chatting right in the middle of the fucking aisle and they won’t move
- Random, weird comments I can never approve…get your shit together, will ya? – you know who you are
- Gary Busey trying hard to be weirder than he is already – dude, that shit is futile; you’re bat-shit crazy already, why give it so much more extra effort??
- Sitting through three horrible commercials before you realize you are watching something you DVR’d
- Sneezing so hard, something in your head pops and you aren’t sure what it was
- When the doorbell rings – on the TV – and the dogs start barking; when the doorbell rings in real life and they don’t
- Being on an allowance and never going through the entire shopping cart experience with “place order now” – it’s like having Shopping Blue Balls or something
- Waking up in the middle of the night and Wormy Kitty is sitting on my chest, staring at me…that shit is creepy!
- Going out with girlfriends to tie one on and not being able to get drunk. At all. Not even tipsy.
- Having a Good Hair Day when you have absolutely nowhere to go
- That commercial with Eddie Money in it where he’s in a travel agency; it gave me nightmares the first time I saw it
- Diets, forced counseling and assholes who think they are entitled
- That stupid window that pops up and asks me if I want to allow the system to install Java
- Gaining five pounds and finding none of your pants fit, then realizing you gave away all your Fat Jeans
- Shitting your pants
- When you say, “Jesus H. Christ!” and someone asks, “What does the “H” stand for?
Well, hell. It’s as if that wedding sucked all that was snarky and bitchy right out of me. Fuck that shit, I am going to bed.
I always thought the H stood for Harold, as in Tommy Lee Jones’ fabulous exclamation “JESUS HAROLD CHRIST ON A FUCKING RUBBER CRUTCH” in Natural Born Killers. It’s what I tell people, usually followed by the whole rubber crutch thing, which sometimes gets me in trouble, and I’m hoping this isn’t one of those comments you hate and can’t approve.
Naw, never! Made me laugh
***Going out with girlfriends to tie one on and not being able to get drunk. At all. Not even tipsy.***
Please explain. In detail. And I swear to J.H.C. if you say it has anything to do with your allowance, I will go to Texas and find you myself to get you drunk.
One exception to that statement – If you blew your money on shoes. Spending your money on shoes and having no money for anything else is perfectly acceptable.
No, nothing about the allowance
It’s just sometimes, the booze won’t work for me. Ugh.
I tend to blow my wad on shoes on a very regular basis. I need a sign that says, “Will whine for shoes. Trust me, if you hear me do it, you’ll buy me some Manolos.”
I’m a bit worried about the kind of comments you can’t approve.
Also, if it makes you feel better, sometimes I sneeze so hard I get a nosebleed.