Tuesday, March 18, 2008

#23 I Hate Man Tears

You may think that this is not exactly fair for me to say, as I let my tears flow freely on a constant basis.  However, when the man tears begin a rollin', who can we turn to, to stand strong in this world?  Tears usually flow in emotional situations, as an expression of sadness or anger. While crying is often looked down upon, especially by men, there are some locations where blubbering is socially acceptable.  In funeral parlors, for instance, people can often be seen clutching kleenex and quietly weeping.  I've also learned that for the male sex, sporting events can be quite the tear jerkers.  Take Evanston High School's loss in the State Semi-Finals this past weekend.  Tattooed, hardcore young athletes were wetting the court with their tears, and no one batted an eye.  And there are some movies, the end of Homeward Bound: The Incredible Journey, when Shadow runs through the yard, for example, where it is difficult to not cry at least a little (If you won't give me that one, I think we can all at least agree on Remember the Titans).

For girls, it's different.  Besides the situations already mentioned, there are loads more which include but are not limited to: the obvious break-up, fighting with a friend or family member, fearful situations, losing something important, getting a bad grade (tears are a perfectly natural way of raising any test score or paper), feeling homesick, as well as crying out of pure happiness, during a wedding ceremony, or even a sappy commercial.  Then, there are my own situations for crying, which may seem bizarre to some.  While I could theoretically list some of these, I don't feel I have the time.  Plus, most of these are public events, so you probably already have enough examples in your head.

But back onto the topic of man tears, they downright frighten me.  Luckily, seeing a dude give into the waterworks is a rare occasion, and I would like it to stay that way.  Some girls may think it's sweet when their boyfriend breaks down, showing feelings and emotion.  Gross.  I'd rather see my boyfriend repeatedly blow chunks.  I remember when I made a friend cry on my basketball court one summer, after telling him that he reminded me of Kyle from Real World Chicago.  I'm pretty sure our friendship ended right around then.  Sadly, that was not the only time I saw him shedding the big wet ones.  Maybe that's biased of me to say.  Please don't tell me I'm being unfair though, or else I may cry.  

Tuesday, March 11, 2008

#22 I Hate P.D.A.

Does anyone actually like it?  And, if people are constantly complaining and saying things like, "get a room!" then who is left to actually partake in it?  I've never heard a person say that they enjoy watching others engage in public displays of affection, but I have seen many a couple huddled up in the corner of a bar, with their tongues down each others throats, so the secret is out, many do like it, and p.d.a. is here to stay.  Seriously, gag me.  And I wouldn't say I am being a hypocrite here, and that when drinking, peoples' senses of judgement are off.  I stand by the fact that I have never to my knowledge taken part in such behavior, and I have no intention to.

I don't really even see the rationalization for hand holding, as it usually just makes others around you feel nauseous.  Okay, we see you two are involved in a romantic relationship, but aren't your hands sweaty and uncomfortable?  Really, I just do not see the point, and whenever I see two people holding hands in public, I just want to karate chop them right down the middle.

When you feel the need to start up with the touchy-feely interactions, it's simply time to leave. I'll even hail you a cab if you ask, as I'd rather spend my evening directing couples toward the exit, than watching them take up space in the already packed to capacity bar, swapping spit all night.  Is it that difficult to leave?  Or do these people maybe just not have anywhere to go because they still live with their parents?  Or are they such social outcasts that they feel some sort of need to prove themselves by saying, "Hey, Chicago, watch me get some ass tonight!" Usually, people who are drunk enough to engage in p.d.a. in a bar, the guy/girl chosen ranges from a certified gargoyle to, at best, an average Joe/Jill.  I guess that does add some entertainment value to passersby.  

The worst is when it's people that are in an actual relationship of some sort.  I mean why did they even decide to leave home, where they have a nice big couch and a bedroom 10 feet away? It's great to see couples come out and have a good time, but usually this just does not seem to be the case.  You see them constantly, sharing one bar stool with their hands all over each other, or up against the wall by the bathroom, and that's never fun for anyone.  So, I guess I'll make some other suggestions for those out there that can't seem to make it home:
1)Bathroom stall
2)Backseat of taxi
3)Cardboard box in the alley
5)The El

As outlandish as some of these propositions may seem, I happen to know of occurrences in most of these locations, and I find them equally amusing.  I'm open to any new suggestions, as I think it is important for the issue of p.d.a. to be addressed full-on, and people need to be aware that there are far more options for themselves than fully abstaining from such activity.  Sounds sort of like a high school sex ed lecture...

Friday, March 7, 2008

#21 I Hate Michael Vick

I guess this should not come as a surprise to anyone, as he truly is a deplorable character, but I feel that I must express the extent of hatred, so I can move on from constantly dwelling on the deeds of this scum bag.  I should probably explain that my dream job would be something along the lines of president of the ASPCA.  Rob a bank, spend a couple years in the slammer; kick your black lab and it's death row.  There is simply no excuse for this type of behavior, and I will not stand for it.  

All right, so he's quarterback of the Falcons, and was at one time the highest paid player in the NFL.  That just makes it even more pathetic that he spends his spare time watching pitbulls maul each other and then electrocuting and hanging them when they do not perform to his first-class standards.  So this means he's not fighting these dogs as a gangster hoodrat trying to make some extra cash on the side, but he actually takes personal pleasure in seeing innocent animals forced to tear each other apart.  What a fun pastime, Mikey, you sure know how to have a good time.  While some millionaires spend their money on lavish vacations, summer homes, and serious bling, others find it in the kindness of their hearts to donate to charities, helping their fellow countrymen, or even an occasional animal shelter.  On the other hand, we have Big Mike, spending his money to further our nation's animal and drug abuse problems. 

Besides being president of the ASPCA, I wish I could be made chief justice of the Supreme Court, for the sole reason of handling Vick's case.  If I had this opportunity, I would use my powers to bestow upon Vick and his posse the exact treatment they granted to their dogs.  I guess I would give them a little leeway in allowing each person to choose his own execution. These death warrants would include hanging, electrocution, beating, quartering, beheading, stabbing; pretty much, which ever was their favorite to perform on the dog, he shall be bestowed, and then dumped in a ditch.

Am I being too harsh here in my wishful sentencing?  I believe not.  I don't think there are many crimes more pitiful and deranged than animal abuse crimes.  A person who would hurt an innocent animal is truly cracked.  Coming home and finding your wife in bed with another man, and stabbing them both in the heat of the moment is one thing, as is a true sociopath who belongs in a mental institution, murdering a homeless man on the street.  I am by no means saying that these are admissible acts, but for a truly sane NFL quarterback to spend his days off abusing innocent animals is beyond my realm of understanding.  Lucky for him I am a harmless college girl who broods over his actions alone in the comfort of my own home, with no intent of going through law school, or really even getting off the couch for that matter.

Thursday, March 6, 2008

#20 I Hate Victoria's Secret Pink

Seriously, what is the deal with this place? Someone had the genius idea to create a pair of sweatpants with the word pink stamped on the ass, and teeny bopping girls and sorority sisters became so enthralled that now, Victoria's Secret Pink is it's own store.  Half-witted girls all over the country have truly been "tickled pink" by this wondrous new creation.  I guess I can understand my 13 year old cousin Maddie being entranced by the polka dotted tank tops and brightly colored underwear, but why are college coeds throughout the nation strolling through campus in "University of Pink" sweatshirts?

That unequivocally may be the most preposterous thing I have ever seen.  The University of Pink surely does not exist and if it did I could not imagine a place I would rather stay away from.  No part of me understands the ideology behind the creation of this concocted university. Not only is it ridiculous, but all of it is completely hideous with its splatter paint, fake jeweled applications, and sprinklings of glitter (see #18, I Hate White Trash). 

There was also the revolting Phi Beta Pink party, which I believe was promoted by none other than my favorite girl, Heidi Montag (#17 I Hate the Hills).  So, now pink goes from being a university to a sorority.  How perfect!  Of course sorority girls love pink, so it would only make sense, for them to become sisters of the queen of all sororities, Phi Beta Pink. 

The infamous pink sweatpants are equally abominable, as is really having any word on your ass past sophomore year of high school.  If you are going to have any word placed on your ass, it might as well be slut, because that is what you are if you have an ass word in the first place.  I guess I thought our tennis sweatpants emblazoned with "nice ace" were somewhat comical, but that was high school and I like to think my fashion sense has suitably changed from my young days of umbro shorts, overalls, tie dye.  

And no, at the check out line I do not want a small pink stuffed polka dotted dog.  The sales associates and idiots who shop there act like this is some sort of one of a kind collector's item. What the hell am I supposed to do with that other than give it to Whinston to tear to pieces? 

Tuesday, March 4, 2008

#19 I Hate White Boys Who Make Beats

In case anyone needs clarification here, I mean rap beats. I know that all white boys, and boys of varying races for that matter, make other types of beats as well, but we don't need to go there. What happened in the last ten years that made white boys think that making beats would be an admirable idea?  I guess maybe it just took one white dude who succeeded in beat making  to show other white dudes that while they have a 0.0001 percent chance of making it as a rapper, the beat making industry is open to all.

Is it really open to all though?  I mean how hard is it to bust a beat to some background music. I'm no female d.j. (Samantha Ronson terrifies me), but I can think of more than one night sitting around with my friends when someone has unfortunately began rapping, others have made background beat type sounds, and it just doesn't appear to be that difficult.  I definitely could be wrong here, as I have come across many things in life which appear easy on the outside, but truly are not.  Riding a razor for one, not an easy task.  But I guess there is also a difference between being able to do something and actually being good at it. And while the market for white boy beat artists appears to be open, I am here, as usual, to disagree.

Black people are born better singers and dancers.  It's in their blood and that is just something that cannot be argued.  While Will Bence may be able to role a mean dice, he just can't hang with Chris Brown.  I think white boy beat makers, and rappers for that matter cannot be taken seriously.  It's just not natural, as white people are not born with the internal rhythm of the black man.  There are always exceptions to any rule, and obviously Eminem is one, if not the only one of these exceptions.  Pete Chatz, you are not an exception.

I hate getting facebook invitations from random E-town alum white boys turned rappers/beat makers at shady venues in Chicago.  No, I will not come to your show because if I do I will become extremely uncomfortable, probably start giggling uncontrollably like a 5th grade girl, and be forced to remove myself from the vicinity.  I don't know what it is about white rappers/beatists (new word coined by me), but they are just excruciatingly awkward for me to watch.  It's probably due to the fact that I hate them, or do I hate them because they make me uncomfortable?  I guess it's a catch-22, chicken and egg kind of thing.

Sunday, March 2, 2008

#18 I Hate White Trash

Growing up in a big, diverse city like Chicago, one would think I would not have much experience with white trash.  Unfortunately, this is not the case.  Chicago is only one of the many places I have been which is crawling with serious trash.  Take the south side for instance, and their love of the Chicago White Sox.  While some may call me a Joanie, I still believe it does not get any worse than this. U.S. Cellular is jam packed with jean shorts, tattoos, beaters, and trashiest of all, the Purdy family (joke).  There should really just be a direct trolley running Sox fans from the field to their other home away from home, Great America.  While a ride on Batman once in awhile can be a thrilling adventure, I'm generally straight off of waiting in line with airbrushed t-shirt wearing couples smoking cigs and reeking of garbage.

I also had the opportunity to spend 2 years at the lovely University of Illinois, where I not only furthered my education in English, but learned more about the trash of the Land of Lincoln. Dark roots, Aeropostale gear, and humongous hoop earrings surrounded me on my daily walks to and from the quad (Side note on big hoop earrings, I once told an unnamed Evanston trashmobile that I could stick my fist through her hoop and she never spoke to me again). Anyway, I obviously had to get out of this place.

Unfortunately, the trash could once again not be escaped on my spring break trip to Acapulco where I learned about East Coast trash.  Sometimes, I think this may be the worst kind because a lot of these people actually have money, I guess they just choose to spend it on special types of all day hold hair gel, and labels which they can flaunt to show off their wealth.  You can hear and see these people from miles away, and thanks to them, and the man who attempted to roofie me at Palladium (I stand by my story), I will not be returning to Acapulco any time soon.

And then there are my frequent visits to L.A. where half my family lives.  Driving down the glamorous Ventura Blvd., one may have the pleasure of seeing a lady of the night, dudes with their pants down to their ankles, and joutfits galore.  There's also Disneyland and if you think Great America is bad, try Six Flags Magic Mountain.  

And it's not just the U.S.  My favorite kind of trash, Eurotrash, runs rampant through an entire continent, and often pollutes our country as well.  I mean, we have enough of a garbage problem, not knowing where to put it and all, we don't need other countries sending over theirs as well.

#17 I Hate the Cast of The Hills

Love the show. Hate everyone on it. I tried to stick up for Lauren for awhile, as she seemed down to earth and sensible.  After watching 3 straight seasons I realized that this was simply not the case.  L.C. is a straight up fun blocker.  Any time anyone else is having a good time, you can find her in the corner pouting.  Who cares if your friend dates the ultimate tool of the century, Justin Bobby.  I would love to have that kid around.  I don't think it gets any more entertaining than Justin Bobby.  And the fact that she ever gave Jason the time of day should have been a tell tale sign that the girl is seriously disturbed.  I will give her wardrobe mad props, but that's where my love for Lauren begins and ends.

Audrina, I saw you in person at a restaurant in Beverly Hills with  50 year old dude who had his hand on the small of your back.  What's up with that?  I mean I am not surprised due to the interesting cast of characters you surround yourself with.  As I said before, Justin Bobby gets my points for entertainment value, but how you actually take this person seriously is beyond me.

As for Spencer and Heidi, I think the media has said enough.  You two are your own circus and as much as I hate you, I can't seem to get enough (I guess that's sad for me).  Spencer, that was so sweet and thoughtful of you to tag up your wall as if you were living in the hood of South Central L.A. and then finish off the pad with a pinball machine.  What a dream home for you and your fiancĂ©e to live in, I only wish I could snag a catch like you.  I also wish you would direct a hot music video of me singing on the beach and maybe if I was lucky enough you could rap on it.  You truly are the next Eminem.  And Heidi, you have some many true and loyal friends.  Jen Bunney, now there's a real winner.

I thought Whitney would never fail me.  She seemed to stay out of most of the drama, and she seemed witty and intelligent.  Unfortunately, she decided to go on a date with her aerobics instructor, and it all went down hill from there.  This dude was straight up Jersey trash complete with white v neck and man jewelry.  Not only did he ask her what her zodiac sign was (hate it), but he also must have made her cheers him 24 times.  I was certain she would go back to her girls later that night and tell all about her evening from hell, but to my surprise, she likes the guy! Whitney, you are dead to me.

Brody, you're hot and we'd all do you.