About Me

Well, hello there.

OK, so I've been rethinking this "About Page" thing, and I've decided that you learn a lot more about a person when you know all the things they hate. So here goes.

Stuff I Loathe:

People who don't say please and thank you.

Poodles.

Any type of holiday-themed clothing or accessory, including but not limited to: Jack-'O-Lantern earrings, Santa sweatshirts, or anything featuring a likeness of the Easter Bunny.

Washing the dishes.

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Parents who let their toddlers run wild in public.

"Hotel California"

Movies which feature actors portraying mentally challenged people, with the possible exception of Rain Man and What's Eating Gilbert Grape.

Too-short pants.

People who kick the seat in the movie theatre.

Almost everything on the radio, including the music, the DJs, and most of the commercials I have written.

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The ancient, can't-stop-crashing iMac that I have to use at work.

Julia Roberts.

People who make fun of me for not having a driver's license.

The sound of people chewing and/or swallowing.

Sports cars.

Artists who clog LimeWire with corrupt files, thus preventing me from stealing their music.

Greasy hair.

Having my waist touched by anyone I am not having sex with.

The Herbal Essences commercials.

Letters from my Born-Again Christian aunt that shame me for not yet finding a husband.

Needles.

19-year old salesgirls who call me "Hun".

Exercise in any form.

Incompetent Account Guy in my office.

The word "genitals".

George W. Bush, Donald Rumsfeld, and that tart Condoleeza Rice.

Bad tippers.

Men who find me overwhelming.

My upper arms.

Any show that's part of the CSI franchise.

Friends who become smug and unbearable once they are engaged and/or married.

Onions. Especially the smell of them.

The fact that I am unable to log onto Hotmail at least 50% of the time.

Romantic comedies.

People in advertising who actually think they're doing something important.

The subsidized housing building across the street from me and the fire trucks/ambulances/police cars that visit it on a nightly basis.

Star Jones.

Anyone who can fit into a size 26 jean.

The fact that just about anything makes me gag. [insert blowjob joke here]

The assholes who seem to think their briefcases are worthy of their own seats on the subway.

I have a feeling that I'm going to keep adding to this.