I hate a lot of things and here’s a short list:

People who talk on their cell phones while they’re driving.
People who talk on their cell phones out in public like they are in a private place.
People who Nextel each other in public over the speakers.
I just hate phones all together.
I hate chatting on the phone.
Small talk.
People who ask me “How are you?” and don’t wait for an answer.
People who leave their dogs outside at night.
People that don’t say their name and phone number clearly when leaving a message.
People that can’t say what they want specifically in their voice mail messages to me.
Junk mail.
Junk email, especially for male enhancement products.
Grey days.
Taking out the garbage.
Sorting laundry.
Going to work every single day.
Not winning the lottery (Please Lord…let me prove to you that winning the lottery won’t spoil me.)
Dusting.
Not being able to remember names.
Employees in stores, banks, etc. that chat with each other while I’m waiting for service.
Coats.
Brown.
Purple.
Knats.
Exercise. (But I like long, solitary walks.)
Big parties.
Margarine (Butter is better.)
People that ask my opinion of something and then tell me I’m wrong.
People that preach their religion to me.
When I’m mean to someone.
When I don’t control my smart-aleck mouth.
When people think I’m giving them mean looks and I’m just thinking about something else.
That I can’t tell a decent joke.
People that drive too close behind me (I like to slam on my brakes to see how good their reactions are.)
Shoes.
Shopping.
Salespeople.
People that use the last of anything without having the common fuckin’ decency to replace or refill. (Toilet paper and soap are biggies.)
People that have to fill ever itty bitty little aural space with the sound of their own voice. SHUT UP!
People who drive down the street at 3am with the base in their car so loud my house starts vibrating two blocks away.
People who drive up to someone’s house and beep the horn instead of getting off of their lazy ass and go to the door.
Car alarms (Never a more useless and annoying invention.)

I could go on and on and on, but you can see I pretty much hate everything and everyone.

"When patterns are broken, new worlds emerge." – Tuli Kupferberg

It’s funny to me and not in a ha ha sort of way, how everyone wants what they don’t have. I’m so bored, I could spit toothpicks. I feel like something is missing and I don’t really know what it is. The problem is that I’m in a rut and everything I think of doing just seems like it will be another chore to add to the long list of the same things I do day in and day out.

I think I need to get out and go to a bar. I used to go out a lot in my younger days. I haven’t really gone out to a bar in like 9 (ugh!) years. Why you might ask? Well, I’ll tell you. I did it so much before that I started hearing the same conversations regardless of where I went and it wasn’t even from the same people, although the same faces did show up many times. Then, since I’m not much of a professional drinker, I get drunk easily and have to learn the art of always having a tall glass of ice water on hand to space between my G & T’s. And then, the truly pathetic reason is that I hate to give up the next day to a hangover. I spend all of the next day on a major guilt trip over what I’m not doing because I over-indulged the night before.

But, I think I’m really on to something here. There is nothing as entertaining as watching a bunch of drunks and of course the drunker you get, the funnier they seem. Plus, I don’t know about you, but the drunker I get, the wittier I am.

So, tonight, I will tell my husband that one night this week he is going to have to give up his male sanctuary and allow (I’ll tell you another time, it’s not as barbaric as it sounds and you feminists out there don’t get bent out of shape) me to invade his bar so I can get wrecked and stagger home. I need to break some patterns.

Letter to Santa (for grown ups)

http://members.aol.com/
frogiearno/dearsanta.htm

June sat alone in the back corner of the dark empty attic room. She stopped screaming and banging on the door fifteen minutes ago. Her eyes failed to adjust to the light in the room because no light showed itself. The black weighed on her and enveloped her, choking sobs from her cold and shivering body. She covered her ears to block the sound of silence that attacked her mind. Her back maintained contact with the stone wall and her butt and thighs pressed into the stone floor, keeping her grounded in sanity.

June’s stomach began talking to her. It gurgled, rumbled and complained about its empty, lonely state. It tightened and twisted, creating an agitation in other areas of her body. The sole of her feet tingled and her hands itched. June scratched first one palm then the other and the itch moved to her elbows. It crawled up her arms, neck and sides of her face and lodged in her scalp. She scratched at her head until she felt a dampness under her fingernails. And she cried.

She sobbed, great heaves, loud, frustrated wails. Her lament echoed and bounced around the empty walls, running back to her in panicked gallops that slammed into her eardrums and silenced her. She sucked in a huge gulp of air, held it and blew it out in a slow streaming whistle.

Her hands felt their way up the walls and her body followed, until she stood. She pressed a hot cheek against the ancient cool stone. She read her way around the room, back to the door. Nothing blocked her path. She used her fists to pound on the door. She pulled and twisted the handle and fell back on her ass as it swung open on her. A halo of bright light shining around a dark figure blinded her and she covered her eyes.

"Is there a problem?"

SUV’s

I hate SUV’s. You know, the Suburbanites’ Ultimate Validation. It snowed here today and because of Mother Nature, I have to be tortured by soccer Moms on SUV steroids. They drive where they want, as fast as they want, without any regard for the people around them. I don’t think they even see anyone else.

There was ice and snow mixed with rain, which started to freeze and this bimbo, Martha Stewart-wanna-be, didn’t know that no matter how big your truck is, 4-wheel drive doesn’t work on ice. But no worries, so she hit someone. Ran right up the ass of the car in front of her. She slid-slided away right into a young girl who was on her way to work. Martha charged from her vehicle, yelling down at this poor child, screaming that it was her fault she got hit because she was in the way. Madam apparently had an appointment with her manicurist, and now she would be late.

You should have seen her face when the police officer handed her a ticket for following too close and reckless driving for the road and weather conditions. She turned purple when the officer told her the young girl wasn’t getting any ticket at all. Some obviously jealous people in economy cars must have told the policeman how aggressively HumV lady was driving.

Just as I’m writing this, a news story is on about an SUV that ran into the house of a family with 3 kids this morning. The driver killed both parents by landing his truck on top their bed while they were sleeping. Granted, other factors were involved too, but SUV’s are evil. Satan’s Ugly Vice. Oh, I’m sorry, SUV’s are like guns, they don’t kill, people do.