Things I Hate, Things I Love

Your hair looks really good like that. 

What?  You don’t like it?  What’s not to like?  Don’t change it, it’s good the way it is!

Come on, seriously.  Making a drastic change to your already gorgeous, lustrous coif will only come off as a cry for attention.  Plus, it kind of seems like you’re just testing everybody around you.  “I thought I’d try something new.  What do you think?”  There’s no correct answer and you know it.  It’s a trap. 

You know what?  Just be happy you have hair to want to change!  Like Joni Mitchell says, “you never know what you’ve got ‘til it’s starting to fall out of your scalp.”

Besides, what are you going to do, get a hairpiece?  That never works. 

And don’t even think about the preemptive strike!  Shaving your head just because you don’t want to look like you’re balding is an insult to those of us who have chosen to embrace nature!  Unless of course, you have a nicely shaped head, and let’s face it, you’re not a part of that 4% of the population.  Your head looks like a flesh colored eggplant.  I still like you though. 

And I LOVE your hair!

Your cat/baby isn’t adorable.

It looks like every other cat/baby.  Stop bombarding me with your funny and adorable stories.  I get it.  Your cat/baby is smart.  It’s so hard to believe how much more advanced your cat/baby is than other cats/babies.  Your cat/baby shows tons of promise.  Sure. 

And just because I don’t have a cat/baby doesn’t mean that I am missing out on life.  Maybe I made a choice not to have a cat/baby.  Cats/babies aren’t my thing.  They smell, are more responsibility than I’m prepared to take on, and I’m pretty sure I’m allergic to their fur/flesh. 

Sure, your cat/baby is cute now…but it’s a novelty.  An accessory.  Soon that cat/baby is going to grow up, then shit’s going to get real.  It will be a lot less “look at what Chairman Meow/Kyle did,” and more “Chairman Meow/Kyle won’t stop pissing.  Everywhere.  No, I can’t go to the Muse show.  On account of the pissing.  It got on the new suede couch.  We think he/he needs a therapist.  Dear sweet, merciful Lord, why did I make this life choice?  None of my dreams ever came true, nor will they.  You there.  Please.  Tell the world my story.”  

So please.  Don’t send me any Christmas cards with you holding your cat/baby this year.  I don’t want to see your cat/baby dressed in an adorable sweater that has a cat/baby related pun printed on it.  I don’t want to hear about how your cat/baby is so well behaved.  It’s not.  It’s a cat/baby.  It’s poorly behaved.  Most people just don’t feel like telling you because they don’t want to be rude.  And for God’s sake, I don’t want to hear about how cute it was when your cat/baby got its head stuck inside a mason jar. 

Actually, yeah.  Tell me about that.  And send pics.  Adorbs.

I hate your cat/baby.

No, this isn’t a setup for a stand-up comedy bit.  I really hate flying. 

First of all, airports are represent all that is wrong with the “Me First” society we live in.  Everybody’s destination is more important than your destination.  They must get to their seat first!  “Wait…I’m in Zone 4?  WHY!?!  I demand to be in Zone 1! I must get on this empty plane now!  NOWWWW!!!”

And they make you pay to check your bag.  I would much rather they charge me $25 extra when I book my flight, and pretend there’s no fee to check a bag.  At least that way at least psychologically I can trick myself into thinking I’m not being Rothlisbergered by the airlines. 

Charging people to check bags forces them to carry on all of their earthly possessions.  So annoying.  Words can’t describe how infuriating it is when you’re trying to get off a plane, and the person in front of you is struggling to pull their over-stuffed “carry on” trunk out of the overhead storage. 

When I fly, I like to just wear all of my clothes at once, so I don’t have to carry any bags. 

And what’s worse is when you land.  When you hear that little “ding,” everybody stands up to go absolutely nowhere.  Why stand?  Especially if you’re in the window seat?  You just have to hunch over like Sally Field sans her daily Boniva. 

Even worse than the standing…the cell phones.  So many people calling “loved ones” to tell them they’ve landed.  Yeah, guess what.  Those loved ones probably forgot you were even flying today.  Nobody ever really means “call when you get there.”  What they’re really saying is “call if the plane’s going down, that’d be super exciting…but not in a ‘oooh, you’re in danger’ way.  More in a ‘oooh, of all the people to call, you chose me!  I must be important, and that makes my narcissistic ego smile!  So…you gonna give me gas money for this airport ride or what?” 

Plus the stewardesses hit your elbow when you’re sleeping. 

I hate flying. 

Halloween is awesome. 

It’s a great time to show how creative you are!  And by “creative,” I mean able to recognize who is currently popular and dress up as that person. 

Whether It’s Antoine Dodson, Lady Gaga or Jimmy McMillan, your costume should always make a statement.  That statement is “I know what happened in the past year, and I’m going to remind you of it tonight.”

Then, there’s the ever-popular double entendre costume.  The “one night stand,” or “Facebook” have been popular in the past.  People love being forced to connect the dots!  It makes them feel smart! 

Then, there’s couples costumes.  Salt & Pepper, Plug & Socket, Charlie Sheen & Cocaine, couples costumes are a great way for women to show that their boyfriend/husband is taken, and it’s a great way for men to show that they’ll do anything to get laid!  Everybody wins!

Plus, it’s a great way to confuse your children.  Spending 364 days a year ingraining the fear into their minds that every stranger wants to molest and kill them, then allowing them to dress adorably and go from door to door in the dark to those very strangers’ houses begging for sweet candy is a great way to psychologically perplex them.  

“Don’t take candy from strangers, unless it’s on the night that we encourage you to take candy from strangers.”  Hilariously manipulative!

Plus, you get to eat a shit-ton of candy and drink booze until you forget how to say words and nobody calls you a depressed glutton. 

I love Halloween!

My beard is starting to itch. 

I tried shampooing and conditioning it, but the whole time I was washing it I felt like I was doing something wrong.  Shampoo and conditioner don’t belong on your face!  THEY DONT!

It looks terrible.  The girls at the bank were laughing at me.  I know they were laughing at me and my ridiculous beard, because there was nothing else funny happening at the bank because it was a bank. 

My mother came to visit and the first thing she asked was if “that thing on my face was a joke?”  The horror and disappointment in her face when she realized the harsh furry reality was very upsetting. 

Plus it makes my face hot when I sleep.  I like having a cool face while I’m sleeping.  Just a preference. 

I think I’m gonna shave it off. 

Last Thursday a homeless guy told me to “get my shit together.”  He pooped in his own hand right after that, so I’m not taking what he said too seriously.  It still struck a chord though. 

I hate having a beard. 

I’m growing a beard.

It’s started out as being strictly for Halloween purposes.  And no, my costume isn’t a “famous beard,” like Zach Galifianakis’ beard, Paul Bunyan’s beard, or Katie Holmes. 

Regardless of the costume, it became my mission to grow a beard, and I am days from accomplishing it, and let me say…it’s been glorious. 

When you have a beard, people treat you differently.  Pretentious hipsters treat you like one of their own, and offer you insight on the newest, most super underground bands.  People in the workplace treat you like somebody who could snap at any minute.  And if you’re dressed shabbily enough, strangers will just give you money!

Plus, people avoid touching you and making eye contact at all costs, and both of those things give me the willies.  Point(s): Andy. 

The only downside:  Involuntary celibacy. 

I’m sure when I shave it, I’ll go back to my normal, boring life of being treated like a respectable member of society.  But in the meantime, I’ll keep enjoying the leftover morsels of food that I find in my facial man-mane.  Today it was macaroni salad!

I love having a beard.