Man, do I love a good rant.
As much as like sharing the things I enjoy with whoever stumbles upon this thing, I also have an irrational hatred for a lot of stuff. I love positivity and gratitude, but a good dose of haterade helps keep things in perspective. So now it’s time to unleash the inner cynic:
Hot weather and humidity: The best thing about moving from Florida (where the picture above was taken and were it’s always sweltering) to New York is that I now only have to deal with a 3-month summer instead of a 11-month one. I don’t like wearing skirts or flip flops, I don’t like going to the beach, and I hate sweating for no reason. I can’t wait until it gets cold enough to comfortably wear a hoodie and listen to the Misfits nonstop. The Misfits in the summer just does not work.
Okra: It’s saddening the best veggie name belongs to the worst of them. I hate okra. It’s all gooey once you cook it and its texture is akin to that of freshly expectorated snot. No, thank you.
Velvet: I don’t like the way it looks, the way it feels, the way it smells. It’s icky and I want no part of it.
Jared Leto: Something about his smug, pretty boy face makes my blood boil. I don’t know anything about him other than I just want to smack the highlights out of his hair.
Getting my socks wet, and when the tongue on your shoe slips to the side: See, I don’t care if my socks slip or my shoes get wet, but should the converse happen I feel like smashing everything around me. This has to be an innate, genetic mutation that was finally expressed in my being because no reasonable explanation exists for these aversions.
Phil Collins: How could you not? His songs are annoying and his voice substandard. He also managed to make Tarzan an even worse movie than it would have otherwise been.
Thorium, Thulium and Thallium 