It’s my blog and I’ll rant if I want to.
(Also, I’ll make as many references to teeny-bopper chick flicks and overplayed sixties anthems as I damn well please).
1. I hate the way you click your teeth against your spoon when you eat, and that you slurp. While you’re thinking cheery soup-eating thoughts, I’m fantasizing about tossing your body into a river.
2. I hate that you say “What?” after EVERY DAMN THING I SAY. I already said it once, and you’re not worth my time to repeat it, so stop fucking asking.
3. I hate that when you’re with your friends, and a mentally retarded person joins your group, the average IQ of the group is actually raised.
4. I hate the way you make me feel completely worthless.
5. I hate that you sing The Star-Spangled banner loudly and off-key. I find you unpatriotic and offensive. Why don’t you just go have a baby with a member of Al-Qaeda while you’re at it?
6. I hate your hair.
7. I hate your indecisiveness. We can’t BOTH be indecisive, and I’m unilaterally deciding that you will be the decisive one. Unless (or until) I disagree with your decision, of course.
8. I hate that you don’t care about me.
9. I hate that I still love you anyway.
10. I hate that you’re so vain, you probably think this blog is about you.
Don’t take it personally. Unless you really want to, then, by all means, be my guest.
2 Comments
I was beginning to not feel welcome here at all… but then you ended it with “be my guest”…
Phew!
Haha! But I’m so magnanimous that I never think anything is about me, even when it is. WIN.
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[...] 2. I went to a concert in a park with my aunt, uncle and cousins. Some good blues bands played, and the fireworks were pretty. Unfortunately, we were sitting next to some extraordinarily idiotic people, of whom the only remotely tolerable member of the group was the retarded girl who plugged her ears and yelled at the bands at random intervals. (See points three, five, and six here). [...]