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hello h8rs

No matter who you are, where you’re from, what your race, religion, and politics are, some petty little moron is going to find some way to hate you.

Maybe your house is too big, your eyes to blue, the bumper sticker on your 4×4 too offensive. Your church too fancy, or your friends too loud. You can’t please everyone, don’t try. As ironic as it sounds, it really hurts more to be disliked when you’re actually trying to please the crowd, then be hated for being yourself, screw the sensitivity. If you’re being yourself and someone is offended by your higher/lower standards, that’s too bad, they can always leave [that said, if you live with a roommate, you might want to consider taking a shower at least once a week, and consider putting headphones on if you insist on listening to Weird Al Yankovic imitating Screamo at 3 in the morning.]

More often than not, the only reason they remain sitting next to you/standing in your front lawn/ at your front door is because insulting your smile or Christmas lights makes them feel like they’re actually not a petty little moron (now you and I both know he is but let’s keep it to ourselves, shall we, and let him go on with his day.)

My point is, if no one hates you, either you’re stupid and they actually do, you’re freaking amazing, or you really don’t get out enough. Hey, even Jesus, who was supposed to be like the nicest guy in the history of the world, was hated (let’s face it, they nailed the poor bugger to a cross.)

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Categories: Homelife, In the public sphere Tags: ,

New Years Resolutions!!! (yeah right)

It’s new years! You’ve burst out the champagne, tossed the confetti, failed at lighting the fireworks, watched the Tournament of Roses Parade and cut the ribbons around the new calendars. Then you sit down, slightly drunk, covered in confetti and tired as hell, and begin to contemplate your new years resolutions.

Just like last year, you plan to lose twenty pounds, donate ten dollars to the humane society every month, limit your weekly amount of beer to a six pack, be kinder to your neighbors, ect. ect.

Come July, you’re still twenty pounds overweight, the humane society doesn’t know of your existence, you’re drinking three bottles every night and you just let your dog crap in Mrs. Schmit’s flower garden. Don’t deny it, you know those resolutions only lasted the first week of January before you decided being an upstanding citizen is too hard.

I’m not the only one who does it, so stop giving me that sardonic I’m-better-than-you stink eye. Maybe we just set our resolutions too high, or maybe we really are such lazy bastards we can’t bring ourselves out of our circle of comfort any longer than a week. This year, just like last year, these are my resolutions:

  • Kill the procrastination: I don’t know anyone who doesn’t procrastinate, whether it’s sharpening your pencil for the hundredth time in a row or the typical – I’ll do it tomorrow. Well, I put the pro in procrastination. I am the Queen of procrastination. My goal? By the end of the year, I will only be the princess of procrastination (gotta take these things slowly, after all.)
  • Meet all of my deadlines: yes, I am cursed with the horrible deadlineitis also. Did I mention I’m the Queen of procrastination? Deadlines and procrastination are extremely explosive when mixed. (BEWARE)
  • Get fitter: sure I may be the gal everyone calls scarecrow or anorexic Jane (I could out eat everyone of you so try me,) but skinny doesn’t mean fit.
  • Did I mention the Procrastination?: seriously, did I?