I Hate Some Things

There are some things I hate in the world. Like I hate scratched lenses in my glasses. And I hate the guy who didn’t clean up the dog puke in my hallway. I hate when I have to buy something I already own but don’t have it close. I hate that there is no place to find books like the books I like with a simple search. I hate litterers. I hate most dogs. I hate crawling through 3 football fields of sewage to freedom. I hate people who diss Harry Potter. I hate that I can’t cut my own hair well. I hate that everybody’s afraid to cut my hair. I hate feeling immobile. I hate bleeding all over my drum set. I hate drinking Nyquil. I hate chicken dip that I can’t stop eating. I hate crafting blog posts and nobody reading them. I hate papaya. I hate the name “Beatrice.” I hate smelling bad smells. I hate sticking wild boars with spears. I hate the names of rappers. I hate that I can’t fix my car. I hate how people compare books and movies as if they’re similar. I hate my jean short cut-offs. I also hate cranberry sauce. I hate dens of thieves.

Subway Dogs

I, personally, would be terrified if all the rats in the New York City Subway system were replaced with wild dogs. If that happened, I’d move away. Just imagine being surprised by a dirt-black crazy-eyed dog staring up at you, head slightly tilted as if asking for permission to jump up onto the platform next to you. Then a train comes rolling through and he disappears into a dog-sized hole in the wall. That would be something I could not get used to.

Every so often you’d be taking the train home late at night and you feel a thump, thump, thump and then howls and cries trailing off behind the train car. Oh yeah, that happens sometimes, I’d tell the horrified tourists. Just a pack of wild subway dogs we surprised. I guess a few made it under the wheels. We can expect they’ll be leaping maniacally at the windows and snapping ferociously at the your children when we stop soon. Yep, there they go.

All of it wouldn’t be bad though: no more gross rat tails trailing behind subway animals; a lot more random old people being dragged screaming into the depths of the subway; system; greater emphasis placed on carrying raw meat with you at all times, perhaps.

Sad Dog Story, Piteous Really.

I hate it when dogs start whining and barking and crying. I hate it so much I could kill those stupid dogs. Why don’t they understand that people just want to sleep? Or that they could be happier if they just stop crying and go to sleep? Or that they won’t get shook if they just shut the hell up.

Once I ruined a dog because it was crying for a few hours in her cage and on the way out the door at 3 in the morning to find some 24-hour drug store to buy some ear plugs, I shook the junk out of the cage this dumb old dog was sitting in. Now it hates that cage. Won’t go near the thing so I hear. I feel really bad about it now but I don’t think I could have not done it that day. It sounded like a real baby and that made me more mad.

I would now like to deflect your criticism with a con-is-really-a-pro observation, as one might use in an interview in response to the question, “What is one of your biggest faults?”: The only reason I couldn’t stomach the tough love, training whatever we were doing for this new dog was because I feel too much for the pain in this tiny creature. It was torturous to sit and listen to and so my only option was to lash out. At the dog?

This is a true story that I would rather didn’t get around.