I hate my screwed up-family I hate my nonexistant love life I hate my looks I hate my ineptitude for math I hate being broke I hate exams I hate not having enough CDs I hate being young I hate rap music I hate the establishment I hate Winnie from the Wonder Years I hate Dubya
There are a lot of things I hate... but I sure do love the Beatles!!!
You're so vain, you probably think this post is about you.
Who else out there lives in Florida and has dealt with Palmetto bugs? We've had a lot of rain lately and those nasty things are all over the place. For any one who doesn't know what a Palmetto bug is, it's basically a cockroach that's about 3 inches long and it flies. They are soooo nasty!!! Yuck!
So, the Mayans think that the world is going to come to an end in 2012. Ahh... September? Dunno! So, the big yellow spaceships will decend on Earth, and...
Things they do look awful c-c-cold... yeah,I hope I die before I get old.
Who else out there lives in Florida and has dealt with Palmetto bugs? We've had a lot of rain lately and those nasty things are all over the place. For any one who doesn't know what a Palmetto bug is, it's basically a cockroach that's about 3 inches long and it flies. They are soooo nasty!!! Yuck!
Why is it that when a song speaks about sex in a joking or inneudo way, I don't mind it, but when they speak about sex in an obvious and frank manner, I think "Oh, I probably shouldn't be listening to this."?
Weird...
You're so vain, you probably think this post is about you.
Shake your tired eyes the world is waiting for you Words Of Love
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Quoted from Mairi
I hate my screwed up-family I hate my nonexistant love life I hate my looks I hate my ineptitude for math I hate being broke I hate exams I hate not having enough CDs I hate being young I hate rap music I hate the establishment I hate Winnie from the Wonder Years I hate Dubya
There are a lot of things I hate... but I sure do love the Beatles!!!
For some reason this reminded me of Edward Nortons 5 minute monologue about things he hates in 25th Hour
f*** me? f*** you! f*** you and this whole city and everyone in it. f*** the panhandlers, grubbing for money, and smiling at me behind my back. f*** the squeegee men dirtying up the clean windshield of my car. Get a fucking job! f*** the Sikhs and the Pakistanis bombing down the avenues in decrepit cabs, curry steaming out their pores, stinking up my day. Terrorists in fucking training. SLOW THE f*** DOWN! f*** the Chelsea boys with their waxed chests and pumped up biceps. Going down on each other in my parks and on my piers, jingling their dicks on my Channel 35. f*** the Korean grocers with their pyramids of overpriced fruit and their tulips and roses wrapped in plastic. Ten years in the country, still no speaky English? f*** the Russians in Brighton Beach. Mobster thugs sitting in cafés, sipping tea in little glasses, sugar cubes between their teeth. Wheelin' and dealin' and schemin'. Go back where you fucking came from! f*** the black-hatted Hasidim, strolling up and down 47th street in their dirty gabardine with their dandruff. Selling South African apartheid diamonds! f*** the Wall Street brokers. Self-styled masters of the universe. Michael Douglas, Gordon Gecko wannabe mother fuckers, figuring out new ways to rob hard working people blind. Send those Enron assholes to jail for FUCKING LIFE! You think Bush and Cheney didn't know about that mess? Give me a fucking break! Tyco! Worldcom! f*** the Puerto Ricans. 20 to a car, swelling up the welfare rolls, worst fuckin' parade in the city. And don't even get me started on the Dom-in-i-cans, 'cause they make the Puerto Ricans look good. f*** the Bensonhurst Italians with their pomaded hair, their nylon warm-up suits, their St. Anthony medallions, swinging their, Jason Giambi, Louisville slugger, baseball bats, trying to audition for the Sopranos. f*** the Upper East Side wives with their Hermes scarves and their fifty-dollar Balducci artichokes. Overfed faces getting pulled and lifted and stretched, all taut and shiny. You're not fooling anybody, sweetheart! f*** the uptown brothers. They never pass the ball, they don't want to play defense, they take fives steps on every lay-up to the hoop. And then they want to turn around and blame everything on the white man. Slavery ended one hundred and thirty seven years ago. Move the f*** on! f*** the corrupt cops with their anus violating plungers and their 41 shots, standing behind a blue wall of silence. You betray our trust! f*** the priests who put their hands down some innocent child's pants. f*** the church that protects them, delivering us into evil. And while you're at it, f*** JC! He got off easy! A day on the cross, a weekend in hell, and all the hallelujahs of the legioned angels for eternity! Try seven years in fuckin' Otisville, J! f*** Osama Bin Laden, Al Qaeda, and backward-a**, cave-dwelling, fundamentalist assholes everywhere. On the names of innocent thousands murdered, I pray you spend the rest of eternity with your seventy-two whores roasting in a jet-fueled fire in hell. You towel headed camel jockeys can kiss my royal Irish a**!
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