Things I Hate Today

These aren't things that I just hate today. I hate these things all the time. But today, I decided to write about them. Maybe I should re-title it: Today: Things I Hate. Or Things Today I Hate. or I Hate These Things Today (and Everyday). Whatever.

Things I Hate:

1. Coming up with titles for my blog entry.
2. Hey, cafeteria guys...I still hate zucchini and summer squash. Thanks for ignoring me.
3. Work. And I was only there for four hours today. I managed to drum up full-time hate on a part-time schedule. And who says I'm not an overachiever?
4. Sore throats. I have one. And not the "Hmmm...my throat feels a tad bit scratchy today" sore throat. I have the "every friggin time I swallow, it's like some welder turns on a blowtorch in my esophagus" sore throat. And I'm swallowing so much garbage (sorry for the graphic part here) that my stomach has bloated so much that I now resemble a Vanilla Biz Markie. And stop telling me, "you have to drink water! You need fluids!" Have you ever had a ice cold glass of water when you have a sore throat? Yeah, that feels good. The only "fluids" that soothe it is Christian Brothers, thank you very much.
5. Peanut dust. And I don't mean this in a dirty way (unlike Rusty's double entendre-laden post from today). But I was enjoying some peanuts in a shell today and looked down to find about 3 inches of peanut dust coating my counter, floor, and clothes. What the hell is this all about? I love my peanuts (again, NOT dirty), but any treat that causes me to have to bust out the vacuum AND shake my clothes off outside is just too labor-intensive for me. Now, I know why people like to eat them at ball games. That shit's gonna end up on the ground anyhow. At least there, it's expected to be there. I don't think Xteen would like it too much if she came home and was ankle-deep in peanut shells. Oh, and if you're gonna say smarmily, "Hey Dim, they have this cool new invention: SHELLED peanuts. Sans dust. You should try them out sometime", well, thanks very much for being on the cutting edge of agricultural phenomena. Now, frig off.
6. The RMV. I had to go the RMV in a rather large city in my area. Now, I frighten easily and being in this city's downtown was no exception. I've noticed that a lot of people who hang out on Main Street (not just this town's Main Street, but ANY town's Main Street) tend to a) not have an obvious employment, b) walk with a gait that appears to be caused by either the lack of a digit or digits on one or more feet, or by the actual presence of a hoof, c) smell like cough syrup, and d) thoroughly enjoy having an expletive-filled conversation aloud with...NOBODY. Anyway, I went to the DMV because I got in an accident last year (hold your tears, I am fine and my visage was uninjured) as I was blinded by the sun and rammed into the behind (again, not dirty) of a car driven by some un-American. I don't mean that patriotically. I mean that literally. Anyway, within 8 nanoseconds of the impact, she is on her cell phone and makes numerous phone calls (while shooing me away with her arms). Then, within minutes, the following people arrive: the police, the fire department, the EMTs, 3 Marines, the Cavalry, her husband, 6 nuns and a Mohel (in the same shuttle bus), a Med-Flight Helicopter, and Tyra Banks. That chick really is everywhere. Anyway, that accident resulted in me being declared guilty until innocent and my insurance company levying a surcharge that, if it were a vegetable, would be zucchini and summer squash. Additionally, they decide to tack on "points" to my driver rating, which despite its allusion, is actually a bad thing. High points bad, low point good. That's just back asswards. No wonder I crash into things. OK, so I go to this slum today to challenge their ruling on this accident (which literally took place almost a full calendar year ago). I get called into the room, where the dude deciding my case is sitting with a very hard-ass look on his face. And then I notice. He's in a wheelchair. I think that is already 2 1/2 strikes against me right there. Here I am, fully ambulatory, 10 toes and no hoofs, and this guy is going to judge me while trying to get out of paying insurance of all things. It would just be my luck that this guy got his ride by being rear-ended by someone who was blinded by the sun. He then proceeds to ask me questions that makes me think, on top of it all, that he is brain-damaged. Him: "The other car sustained a lot of financial damage. How did that happen?" Me: "uhhhh...". Him: "The other car was pulled over the side of the road. Why was that?" Me: "uhhhh...". Apparently, in my report, I put my occupation down as "body jumper" because this guy wanted me to channel the un-American chick, her auto-body guy, and probably Tyra Banks, the dirty bastard. I left and the guy told me that they will have the decision against me in three to four weeks. Well, he didn't exactly say that they would be ruling against me, but I think I picked up that extra 1/2 strike against me when I asked him if he wanted me to find out "where Forrest's magic shoes were while I was at it." Alright, that didn't happen.
7. American Idol. Now I admit that some of this has grown on me, but I really don't like the singing all that much. I like hearing the judges comment on performances I didn't even see and playing in-games like, "Is Randy speaking English?", "Guess Paula's blood/alcohol level", and "How many chest hairs can you spy thanks to Simon's v-neck?" But the one thing that absolutely cracks me up about that show is when they vote someone off. Some schlep gets voted off and they have that person come down for one final performance. And what do they sing? The same friggin song they sang that got them kicked off in the first place! "Hey, America thinks you suck. Come up here and sing the song that they hated so much last night that they actualy decided to vote for the prematurely grey-haired guy with Tourettes over you!" No thanks. Could you be less dignified? Might as well give them floppy ears, a tail, a swift kick in the ass and tell them to go down on all fours and yell out, "Hee haw!!" That's like failing a true or false test in school, having your teacher tell you that they are failing you and there is nothing you can do to stop it, but you can take the test again. The catch is that you have to answer everything the exact same as you did before. That makes sense.
8. Tyra Banks. Man, you could show a movie on her fivehead.

Well, that's been my day.

Don't be hatin',

- Dim.