Friday, December 03, 2004

hate

My mom says I shouldn't hate.

Websters defines hate as a feeling of hostility or animosity, dislike or distaste.

The problem is, I like disliking stuff. Is the hate that I feel canceled out by the joy that it brings me?

My mom hates. Like, my apartment is surrounded by churches. The fuckers flock here on Sunday, and they double park up and down the street. So I thought it might be funny if there was a fire and they all died. Because the fire truck wouldn't be able to get down the street because of their asinine parking behavior. Irony is funny, right? Well, I guess my mom doesn't think so. She's a social worker. "What the hell is wrong with my daughter?" She is probably thinking. She hated that.

She also hates eggs.

So is it okay that I hate ketchup then? And vacuuming? Yeah? Okay then.

Can I hate on people? No? Not even that guy that broke my nose? Seriously? Can I hate the president? The vice president? Hitler?

And if I go to hell for hating stuff, and fucking child rapists can say they're sorry and get into heaven, then I'm going to hate god.

Yeah! I said it!
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