I HATE UGLY MEN

I have had enough of you and I will bite my tongue no more. If you’re ugly, I don’t want to look at you. If you’re ugly, I don’t want to hear you. If you’re ugly, I don’t even want to smell you. Go get pretty you hideously, ugly fuck. You make my eyes sore.

Ok. That’s all for now, gang! I’m off to my colonic!

I HATE HANDS

They must be destroyed at all costs.

I HATE MESSY DESKS

I am fastidious in everything I do. This is why you embarrass me. Me? I could spot clean a 7-member family’s homicide/suicide in 52 minutes or less. Better believe it!

I HATE SOCIAL EVENTS, PEOPLE, PEOPLE AT SOCIAL EVENTS NAMED SEAN

If there is is one thing I never get tired of telling people it is this: I hate you people. I blog, tweet, and carve as much in to my own flesh daily. I’m just not a people person. I like dogs. They’re adorable! Unlike people. People smell and have needs and thoughts and feelings. It’s like I always say: people suck! But of all the people I hate, one ranks supreme. This is why I started my sister site: seanisachoad dot bloggerville or something or other. I want to isolate a single individual and crush his will to live. Also, I am bored at work.

P.S. Does anyone out there know how to mass produce sarin gas?

I HATE BIRDS

I’m just kidding. Only a complete and total jackass would hate birds. I do hate the Russians though.

I HATE WHEN PEOPLE ASK ME ABOUT YOGURT

Fuck you Jon Zast.

I HATE SHARING

I’m looking at you Andrew L. You know how much corporate bullshit I had to wade through to afford that bag of past-due-date pretzels? One handful from you depletes the whole stock, now I got nothing but a few broken ones and pretzel dust.

Thanks.

I HATE SCALES

Scales? I, like you, can’t help but to step on them. But I, unlike you, do so only to stomp, smash, and obliterate them in all their judgmental fucktard glory.

I will find you scales and I will kill you, each and every one.

I HATE NAMES

Your name is just the result of your parents lack of creativity. So when I say “Hey you” just answer me? You’re not special “Beau” or “Sean” or “Gian” or “Gino” or “Jon” or “Ian” or “Nikelle” or “Other Ian” or “Tucker” or “Coral” or “Dennis” or “Stan” or whatever-the-hell-substitutes-for-me-snapping-my-fingers,-not-throwing-my-scalding-hot-coffee-on-you.