Love Being a Hater

Okay, I love this topic.  I find the act of being deeply critical about people, places and things to be extremely gratifying.  It allows you to be funny (or so you think), connect with humanity, and get a little closer to understanding what you're all about.  And isn't that what it's all about? And when you love to hate something, not only do you hate it, but you get a sick pleasure out of its stupidity.  Writing this post will put me on a week-long high.

Things I love to hate:

1. People who only send Christmas cards after they have children.  

I have no problem with people who don't send Christmas cards in general.  I like doing it for a lot of reasons.  I can be bad about being in touch.  A lot of holidays cards are glittery.  I think it's nice to stop once a year and literally take the time to let someone know you are thinking about them.  I can understand not doing it.  It takes time, it gets expensive, and some people don't even appreciate them.  However, if you have a child and then suddenly feel the need to spread the Christmas spirit, you are totally full of it.  I can understand wanting to show your kid, looking cute in a special ensemble, to interested parties.  But if you never bothered to send me holidays wishes and wish me a happy new year in the past, don't do so now as a pretense to showing off your baby.  I think it's incredibly poor taste.

2. Married couples who communicate with each other on Facebook.

Okay, I can understand the silly joke here and there, and I'm not above doing it myself.  But I've seen people who are married compliment each other's cooking, or wish them luck at their meetings, and have other sorts of inane conversations through their Walls.  Of course, people who live in the same house will still need to talk online, and maybe even use Facebook to do so, at times.  But I can't help but feeling like a lot of what they are doing is just to show other people that they are a happy, fun couple.  Lame.

3. Business owners who act like you should know their business as well as they do.

This one has been a huge pet peeve of mine for years, but I have never witnessed the heights of ridiculousness of this situation more than when I was planning my wedding.  I hate when you walk into a store that sells something you need, like flowers, or a service you need provided, like framing; and you ask a basic question about what the purchase entails/includes, or how the process works, and they totally scoff at you for asking the question.  Like they are so smart for knowing how the business they have run for 25 years works, and aren't you an idiot for not. And it's not only the owners who do this.  Often, employees behind the cash register do too. Give you attitude for not knowing that Venti is the largest size?  Well, I'm sorry.  I never accomplished my dream of working at Starbucks, so you'll have to school me.  The bottom line is, there is a nice, friendly way to convey information, and then there's being an ass.  If you have so little to feel good and confident about that you treat customers like they're stupid, it's really, really sad.

4. "That's a really good school."

I hate when people say that.  But I do love to hate it.  I find it hilarious when people say that because if the school was truly great, we'd all know about it.  Of course, there are exceptions. There are some really kick-ass small liberal arts colleges out there, but that is not what I'm talking about.  I'm talking about the random local schools.   I think people feel the need to justify staying local for college.  If you chose to go to St. Joe's (in Philly) or Creighton (in Omaha), that's fine.  But don't tell me it's Princeton.  Don't tell me that your education was elite-level rigorous and just as prestigious.  It simply isn't.  But who cares?  Own it.  Be proud of your achievements wherever you went and what you've accomplished since.

5. Bad Waitresses

I feel annoyed when people lament the experience of the downtrodden waitress.  Disrespected, paid poorly, on their feet all day.  Sure, that's not good.  But often people in service complain about how bad most customers tip.  I'm sure that's true.  But I think that there are a lot of bad waiters and waitresses out there too.  They can be generally inattentive, not refill your drinks, mess up your order-- and then what really kills me, not be nice or apologetic about anything. Such servers are included in the "woe is me" waiter population, unfortunately for the ones who are really good.  I'm a very generous tipper, and I hate to think that my generous tip should be expected, rather than compensation for excellent service.

6. Political Geniuses

I really hate that a lot of people out there feel empowered to talk down to others about politics and policy.  I have alluded to this in my "Hey Celebs- Shut the Hell Up" post.  In my opinion, the government and how it works, and should rightfully work, is incredibly complicated stuff.  I would be very careful before I spouted anything about politics, not because I'm not equipped, but due to my education and my work, I fully appreciate what it entails.  Clearly, others don't have that hesitation.  And when people do talk about issues that are more simple, in some moral sense, they naively treat them as black and white.  Abortion, Stem Cells, Affirmative Action.  Gay Marriage.  It's fine if you feel a certain way, but when you think everyone who disagrees with you is either stupid or bad, you're really losing sight of things.  And people on both sides of the aisle do this.  It's the easy way out.  It's much harder work, intellectually speaking, to tackle the perfectly justified arguments against your view.

What I might hate more than anything are people who complain.  Ironic, you say?  But I'm not complaining here.  Like I said, I enjoy hating those things.  I'm not complaining that they exist, because that's life.  Complainers are everywhere.  They really feel bad for themselves for whatever they are dealing with.  But I think they should buck up.  No one said it would be easy.

What do I Love to Hate??

This was a challenging topic for me to write about. Growing up my mom’s favorite motto was “Be a solution-finder, not a problem-finder”. Whenever we would complain or talk about something we disliked she were immediately ignored and told to only focus on the things that we could control. Although annoying at the time, I am now very thankful for this valuable approach that we were taught at a young age. As a result, I don’t focus much on the things I dislike. With that being said….everyone thinks at some point about unpleasant or annoying things that they have no control over. It has been really fun reading the other blogs. As I was reading down the web page each morning, I found myself smiling, nodding my head, and thinking, “Oh yeah, that annoys me too!”
As I went through the week, I started to pay close attention to the things that really annoyed me….the things I loved to hate. My list isn’t incredibly extensive or conclusive, but it is a collaboration of things that I realized I strongly dislike.

1. “Facebook” This is actually a hard one for me to put on here. I just recently cancelled my Facebook account. And, not because I hate it, but because I hate the amount of time I was wasting on it. For the past few weeks, I have had to convince myself that I hate Facebook so I am not tempted to re-activate my account. There are times that I do miss ‘snooping’ around on other people’s pages and peeking at old college cohorts. It is fun to see which high school classmates have gotten fat and which ones (sometimes surprisingly!) are very successful. However, I spent way too much time looking at pictures of people I barely knew or reading status updates for people that would never affect my life. So, I quit. Cold turkey. Thus, I now ‘hate’ Facebook.

2. “People who trickle on the toilet seat and don’t wipe it off” I am sorry, but this is absolutely the most disgusting thing ever. I never sit down all the way on a public toilet. Girls, you know the drill. You go to a public restroom, get in a funny “squat” position, and then you do your thing. Sometimes you end up dripping on the toilet seat during the process. I apologize if this is TMI (too much information), but it is the truth, we’ve all been there. The proper thing, then, is to take a wad of toilet paper and wipe of what you have left. The most filthy and sickening thing is when you get to a public bathroom and there are yellow liquid drips all over the seat. Gross! The part that is funny to me is when this happens at the office. Trying to figure out who the ‘culprit’ is can actually be kind of entertaining. You hear the bathroom door shut and turn on your ‘potty-patrol’ mode, stealthily walk over, get a cup of coffee and eyeball whoever walks out. B-U-S-T-E-D!!

3. “Nancy Grace” Do people really care that Caylee’s mom cracked a smile during her court hearing? My heart goes out to that family because they lost a young child, but six months later does the public really need to know every detail of every conversation the mother has had while in prison? My husband loves to watch Nancy Grace (I think mostly it is because he knows how annoyed I get with her). Her behaviors are mostly an act for TV to increase her viewer ratings. Her obvious statements and over-zealous personality are so irritating and force me to change the channel after only a few minutes.

4. “The person at work who gives WAY too much information about their personal life (which is 95% of the time exaggerated).” Everyone knows one of these. The Drama Queen. The person who threatens to quite every-other day (albeit only says this to his/her coworkers) but has never actually acted on this threat. The girl who gives a play-by-play recap of her weekend hook-up with the local-league football player. The thirty-something guy who still tries to hit on the new, young, employees while at the same time complaining about the sex life with his wife. In an office full of sales people “this person” is nearly every employee. Although I will admit this can be entertaining at times, it gets so old.

So there ya go. I started writing this blog thinking it was challenging. I have finished it smiling and realizing it has been kind of fun to focus on the things I get enjoyment out of disliking...

I Love to Hate You, Regina George

     What's funny is that I picked this week's topic, and it took me much longer than usual to come up with ideas. What are some things I "love to hate"? I started with a blank page on a yellow legal pad. I wrote, "Love to Hate" at the top. After a few moments of nothing, I underlined "Love to Hate." And then another few moments of more nothing. 

     Then "sex addicts" popped into my head and I thought, "Gosh sex addicts! What a ridiculous reason to go to rehab." So just below my underlined title I wrote, "sex addicts." I thought that was just hilarious. And then I started doing light research on sex addicts and I wound up feeling kind of bad about preparing to make fun of something that maybe actually is real and sad. So I crossed it off my list. But then I was like, "Oh ha-ha scientologists" and "ohmygosh Angelina Jolie" and "you know what I hate? Actors who say they're quitting their TV show to work in film and then disappear for a while and then come back to TV." 

     My list grew quickly. My hatred just seemed to spill from me: "Leonardo DiCaprio's South African accent" and "snobby people at expensive gyms" and "city moms who use their baby-strollers as weapons of mass destruction" and "organic mania" and "CSI: Miami previews" and "Bush jokes" and "out-of-control kids" and "Fergie" (the performer, not the former duchess) and "non-Italians who say 'Ciao'" and "the term: fine lines and wrinkles."

     I just kept digging up things I derive sheer pleasure from hating (the volume of my findings-- a little worrisome, I agree).  I was throwing back my head and giggling, rubbing my hands together saying occasionally, "oh and!" before scribbling yet more down the page.  But it wasn't long before I realized that not one item on this laundry list compares to my hatred of... mean girls.  

     I'm not talking about ordinary, perhaps even respectable girls who are in touch with their mean streaks.  I firmly believe that every girl should find that bitch within and pull her out when needed.  Cause, she's gonna need her at some point.  Guaranteed.

     No, I'm talking about "mean girls" in quotes.  Like, "gossip girls."  Like, those girls that you can remember being in middle school, praying you had a time machine just so you could fast forward and see her get her comeuppance. 

     I was teased a lot growing up. My family moved to a small suburban, resort town when I was in 5th grade.  So, I was teased for being new.  I was also teased for being from "the city" (we moved to Long Island from Queens).  I was teased for wearing hats (I loved hats. I blame the movie "My Girl"), for the types of earrings I wore, for collecting those little trolls with crazy-colored hair.  I was teased for reading so much I'd spend lunch and recess in the library.  I was teased for being too skinny, for being flat-chested.  For being shy and nervous and neurotic and weird or different or both.  Most probably I was teased because not once did I ever expect it. The insults came from around a sharp corner- I never saw them coming- and probably the look of shock and confusion on my face made it all worthwhile.

     When I was a senior in high school, my ex-boyfriend started dating a mean girl.  She wasn't popular (as in, "elite"), but she had her group of friends, and she was mean.  She was bitter and awful.  And one night after a basketball game, I was making my way to my car, walking through the parking lot of people doing the same.  I was walking, minding my own business I swear, when I crossed a few feet in front of a car that had just slowly pulled out of a spot.  But then the car's headlights turned on.  It was my ex-boyfriend's car.  I looked up for a split second, but kept walking.  Moments after the headlights turned on, the ex's car lunged forward in my direction and made a huge screeching noise.  I jumped out of my skin.  My hands flew up to my face.  I thought for sure I was about to get run over and die a painful death.  But I didn't.  The car had barely moved.  And when I stepped out of the headlights I could see Mean Girl was in the passenger seat, covering her face, laughing. 

     I hate reliving this moment, because the truth is, I got her back in a bad way, and I feel guilty about it.  So, retelling this whole thing doesn't really make me feel better.  I'm not proud, okay?  But I'll tell you anyway. 

     Not long after this incident I was assigned to a public speaking class.  She was in it.  She sat there-- quiet and safe and smug.  The fact that she was in that class and got to live in peace every day with no visible remorse ate away at me.  On the last day of public speaking I gave the biggest, baddest speech of all time.  I gave everyone in the class a certificate, awarding them titles based on the speeches they gave ("most dysfunctional family" and "best peanut butter and jelly sandwiches").  It was a big hit.  But when I got to her name though, I told the story I just told you.  I told the story about how she thought it was just so funny that this guy scared me by pretending to hit me with a car.  And I threw in there that I suspected it was all her idea.  And then I said that I didn't have a certificate for her, but if I did it would name her "piece of shit."  I closed with:  "And I hope you do feel like a piece of shit.  Because as far as I'm concerned, that's exactly what you are."  

     The kids in the class went in an uproar and I saw her tears from my podium.

     It was to date, the first, last, single meanest thing I've ever done.  I sure hope that doesn't make me a "mean girl."  ...Wait- does vengeance count?  

     Anyway, truth be told, that is not the way to handle a mean girl.  If I could rewind to that night in the parking lot, I'd get over my initial shock, take a deep breath, walk over to her passenger-side door and open it.  I'd pull her out by her collar and throw her to the ground and say something cool like, "What's so funny, bitch?"  

     Nip that sucker right in the bud.  

     Not sure I'll ever be up for that.  I am kind of a lady.  Not entirely, although I try to keep up appearances.  But I do think that alternate ending wouldn't have humiliated her so that I'm still thinking about it 10 years later.

     So yeah, mean girls.  Love to hate 'em.

 

 

Welcome; now kindly leave

Given that I am writing from our Nation’s capital on this historic day, I figured—what could be better than a blog post discussing how much I love to hate tourists in DC. Don’t get me wrong, I think today is a fantastic day, and I got goose bumps standing by the reflecting pool listening to celebrities discuss our founders and recite the words of past presidents. I’m not trying to diminish the significance of this spectacular moment. But I just wish it wasn’t happening right outside my doorstep.

Typical tourist season in DC extends from mid-June through the end of August. There are all sorts of categories of tourist sightings. The first signs of tourist season emerge on the metro. I heart DC and FBI t-shirts adorn sun-burnt youngsters who stand with their luggage blocking the doors, a middle aged man discusses loudly how smart they are for figuring out which direction they were supposed to go on the train, while another curses even louder when he realizes four stops too late that he missed his transfer point. And the children run up and down the crowded eisles, pretending to surf until they go flying.

The metro is only a beginning, however. The surest sign of tourist season is trying to venture into the Museum of American History, Natural History, or Air and Space on a weekend. Forget it. Stay home. It is not worth it. If you actually wanted to read the signs, too bad—because some little brat is probably rubbing his germy hands all over it and asking his mom (who is still two rooms behind him) to read it for him. Although I do love the fact that even in the heat and crowds of summer, the National Gallery usually holds vast expanses of quiet, empty rooms in which I can go to escape the masses momentarily. . . until I walk back outside on to the mall, that is.

I don’t know what it is about tourists that I love to hate so much. I can’t really blame them for wanting to come here; I mean, I love this city—why wouldn’t you want to come stand in the marble hallways and take in the splendor of it all? Where else can you spend days upon end not paying for a single attraction? It’s pretty cool.

But I still don’t want them walking four astride on the sidewalk when I’m trying to get to work, or hoping up and down around me when I’m trying to keep my balance on a crowded metro train, or slowing down the line at starbucks asking if they sell diet coke, or stopping me on the corner when the cross-walk timer is almost red to ask for directions. At the same time, the fact that I notice makes me realize how quickly this city has truly become my home; when the momentous history around me seems at times to be an inconvenience, I can’t help but smile, despite my hatred of crowds. And even though I left yesterday’s concert right as Obama was speaking to try and get to the metro ahead of the masses, I enjoyed taking it in as though I was a tourist myself. But that doesn’t mean I won’t be excited to see them all head home tomorrow and Wednesday. . .

Tofu and James Taylor

In thinking about the topic for this week, Things I Love to Hate, I had a lot of trouble. I could think of lots if things that I Hate to Hate:

• Tofu. I know its supposed to be good and better than killing poor, innocent chickens, but I just can't get past the sponginess. I find that unless you cut it into tiny, tiny slivers (let's just call them crumbs) it tastes like eating stir fry with soy sauce flavored jello. Yuk. I really hate that I hate it, but I do. I can't help it. I want so badly to promote the slaughter of innocent soybeans instead.
• Running. I hate running. I always have, but I wish I didn't. It sure would have made the first few weeks of soccer preseason a lot less painful if I could have just stayed in shape over the summer. I manage to make myself run about once a week in the winter and 3-4 times a week in the other months. I want to be trendy and cool (and fit), but I can't figure out a way to make it less monotonous and boring. Oh well.
• American Idol. I HATE this show. I HATE everything about it from the terrible auditions by people who must know they're terrible, to mean Simon, to drunk Paula, to the bad karaoke of Hollywood week. I know it’s cool to love this show and I hate being left out, but I can't force myself through 10 minutes of it without being disgusted (or disheartened by the state of our country - when is it okay to be intentionally mean to someone?). Sorry Fox, I know it's the only reason you're hanging on, but I can't do my part to save your network.
• Forever 21. Most of you probably haven't heard of the Heaven on Earth that is F21 so I'll summarize: it's a suburban mall situated sanctuary if cheap clothes. I don't like to admit that I shop amongst polyester, spandex, sparkly, tube top clad teeny boppers, but I do. And I also use phrases like teeny boppers. Cheap jeans and sunglasses are happiness.

The idea of talking about what I Love to Hate also got me thinking about what I Love to Love (secretly). These are all secrets so shhhh! Don't tell).
• Alabama. Oh God, I can't believe I'm letting the cat out of the bag on this one, but here goes. I'm supposed to hate them, but I don't. I love them. I was born into a hatred of all things Tide, but somewhere along the way I lost interest in hating. So now I secretly cheer for them (except against my beloved Vols, obviously) and am known to secretly squeal the occasional RammerJammer (give 'em HELL) especially when I've been drinking.
• James Taylor. My head thinks of him as in a category with Michael Bolton and Barry Manilow, but my heart and my ears can't get enough. You've got a friend? Classic. Carolina on my mind (enough said!).

So long story long, I did a lot of thinking and finally wrapped my simple mind around the task at hand, those items that I find great pleasure in hating. Drumroll please.....

Things I Love to Hate

• The Bachelor. You may be amazed that I can hate Idol with such passion yet can be so passionate about this stupid show. I’m the first to admit this bastion of faux tans, cleavage, desperation, and tears should have been off the air years ago. But since it’s not, I still watch (although I've missed probably half the seasons). This show brings out the snarky side of me, but I love being snarky. I think part of why I love the Bachelor is why I love the romcom, I'm a romantic at heart and this stupid show plays to that. Oh, and I love making fun of the desperate girls who talk about babies and wedding planning the first night. Heh.
• Walmart. I love telling everyone how much I despise this store with its big box attitude. I hate the way they sprawl on for miles and miles with their enormous parking lots. I hate the way they treat their employees like dirt. I hate their big box attitude. I hate the way they manhandle the small companies whose products they sell. And I definitely hate the way they draw out the rednecks in droves. And I love to tell all of those things to any poor soul who utters the words Walmart within 50 feet of me. Oh, and I loooove their prices. Shhhh!
• Flying. I like to talk about how much I hate to fly, but I sure love to do it. I would travel every weekend if I could. I bitch and moan about the long security lines, taking off my shoes, and running to make connections because of delays (which I secretly love - such a sense of accomplishment when you make it. Like beating the system at its own game. Take that airline!). I love fitting everything into one suitcase, I love all my 3.2 oz travel bottles, and I especially love the feeling of traveling so far in such a relatively short amount of time. So while United expends all of its energy trying to piss me off by making me sleep in O'Hare, I keep packing lighter and refusing to pay for a drink, pillow, exit row, isle, movie, or extra bag (or first bag).