They want to know what we hate? They want to know how much loathing we carry in our hearts? Fine! I'm here to make them happy. Following is my hate list:
I hate cole slaw.
I hate horseradish.
I hate sweet potatoes with miniature marshmellows on top and jello salads with all sorts of shit in them and canned cream corn. ESPECIALLY the canned creamed corn.
I hate hard boiled eggs that don't peel right.
I hate it when I'm going through a doorway and my pocket catches on the strike plate and rips my pants or shirt or coat or underwear or whatthehellhaveyou.
I hate pantyliners that stick to your pubic hair and make you yelp everytime you sit down.
I hate it when you find a recipe that sounds fab and you buy all of the wacky specialty ingredients and you prep everything and follow each little nuanced instruction and and you take it out of the oven and it looks fantastic and you bite into it and it tastes like mummified ass.
I hate hitting my head. No, I mean it. I really hate it when I accidentally hit my head.
And I hate it that I'm so intemperate that it actually makes me feel better to smack whatever inert, inanimate object I was dumb enough to slam my fat head into. "Take that, cabinet door. Ya dumbass!"
And hairballs. I hate stepping on a fresh, wet hairball on the way to make coffee in the morning.
Yeah, I got more, but I want to leave you some room to share.
What do you hate?
UPDATE: And I HATE being on the rec list for the first time! Damn you haters!