Individually wrapped candies. They're single-serving one-way tickets to Type 2 diabetes shrouded in bite-sized bits of pollution. Besides, I want immediate gratification. I don't want to fool around with this much cellophane for one piece of candy at a time. Give me Skittles or Reeces Pieces any day of the week.
Trucks. Sure, I'm always happy to have a friend who will lend me his when I have issues with moving or getting new furniture, but why would you buy a truck? Gas too cheap for you to drive a vehicle that gets decent mileage?
Sunglasses. I can't read your expression, and if you surprise me wearing them I won't even know who the fuck you are. It isn't that bright and you aren't that cool. Take them the fuck off.
The sun. It's too hot when it's up, then it's always too low in the sky for most of the day, so it gets in my eyes. I hate sunglasses on other people, so I don't wear them myself. Why can't it just stay night all the time like it is when I'm awake?
Hugs. I'm not Howard Hughs, but I'm just not a touchy-feely person. I don't initiate hugs or even handshakes. Sorry. Really, I don't hate you or think you're covered with germs (though you are, really). I just hate hugs.
The sound of women peeing. When a guy takes a leak, it just sounds like running water to me, and that's no big deal. When a girl goes, it sounds like an ass on a toilet, and that's just gross.
The sound of my neighbor's dog. The neighbors are okay, but their dog is a fucking idiot. You know these dogs that bark at EVERYTHING? That's this dog. They've lived there for six months or more, but every time the mail-lady walks by, he barks like a fucking idiot. Every time I go in my back yard (which is often because we have dogs of our own who need to be let out), he barks like a fucking idiot. And it isn't just a bark-bark-bark; it's a panicked succession of syllables strung so closely together that it's almost a cross between a howl and a scream from a fucking idiot dog.
Apples. The fruit. I don't especially like the computers either though.
Hotel showers. In addition to many of them being unnecessarily confusing (e.g., why only *one* knob/lever/whatever for both hot and cold? Okay, only at the ones that are more than $30 a night, obviously), the thing I hate most is there's no way to predict how many geometric degrees of rotation are equivalent to how many degrees Fahrenheit. You barely touch it and the temperature goes from tepid to scalding. Once you factor the emergency room bill in, that vacation was no bargain after all.
Doctors office forms that ask for your DOB and your age. Do the fucking math, you fucking morons! I seriously cannot trust you jackasses with my bill or anything involving prescriptions if you cannot carry the one and figure out how old I am.
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