I hate the new trend of advertising up & coming shows in that little pop-up box at the bottom of the screen. Usually right after a commercial. I especially hate it when they cover up information, such as a ‘closed caption / translation’, a date, location, the person speaking’s ID, etc…
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I hate people who waste gas. I hate how they don’t give a shit about anyone else who has to breathe that shit, or the damn environment. I know that burning oil is indispensible for our modern society to work, but still, that doesn’t give you the right to waste it with no consideration at all.
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I hate not being rich. That’s what this rant is actually all about. I hate being poor.
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I hate my sister. She is such a loser. I am the baby of my family and she is the oldest. My mom had my sister at an early age (15). My Grandmother decided to raise my sister. So she always lived with my Grandmother.
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I hate communism. I hate it for many reasons. First and foremost, I hate any form of government that involves huge emphasis on authority figures. Why should we all be treated like little children by the government? We should be able to make our own decisions and have freedom of speech amongst other civil rights.
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I hate having to own a car. Most of my financial problems are directly related to having a car. Not only do I have to pay thousands just to have one, but once I do I have to pay registration and insurance every year.
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I hate the societal pressure for girls to be thin.
I hate feeling fat for not weighing 100 pounds.
I hate not feeling attractive because I have curves.
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So I hate judgement… and I hate the fact that some people can totally leave you out of things. They can totally forget you exist it seems, but when they remember and try to talk to you again your a jerk for not JUMPING at the opportunity to do it! Whatever… I’m done with that crap.
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1. I MUST go on a diet. I hate my body. and that is not like me to say out loud in a room that i hate my body. I have always been a big girl, but I have never hated my body. I HATE it.
2. I need to go on a shopping spree. I need clothes that dont make me hate my body.
3. I need to stop eating moes. I am getting sick of it, yet I crave cheese dip, guacamole, and steak burritos all the time.
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Over the last few weeks my job has become the most depressing thing in my life. I’m so dis-heartnened by it all that I’m seriously considering getting myself sacked so I don’t have to do this anymore. It’s slowly killing off what’s left of me.
The biggest irony of all: Cheyenne claims to be in graduate school to study sexual ethics.
As for Marl, he never responded to any of my e-mails. I saw him at a party once and he couldn’t look me in the eye. I recently found out he was present at another party I attended but hid from me the entire time. And this was all after I told him revenge was beneath me and that I wasn’t going to hurt him. What a coward. What a worthless excuse for a man.
After reading all of this I just lay there in shock. I had a very physical reaction: I could actually feel stress hormones coursing through my body, especially in my stomach and in my quads. Sleep was out of the question. I called a mutual friend who—not surprisingly—already knew that Cheyenne and Marl were an item. Although she had lied to my face about Marl, she had given mutual friends permission to break the news to me. Ever the coward, she would do anything to avoid confrontation.
Now before I go on I want to say that I am not a stalker. I have never called my ex-girl friend much less driven by her house, gone through her trash, or made any other effort to gain information about her or control her. I did what I did because she had already been caught in a lie and my sexual health was at stake. Unlike Cheyenne I had not started another relationship, but when I did I certainly didn’t want to spread any STDs from Marl the maggot.
I moved out and for awhile it seemed like we might actually be able to be friends. Cheyenne certainly seemed comfortable calling me whenever she needed a ride somewhere. The fact that she acted so damn nice all the time concealed was a parasite she is.
About a week after I had moved out we met for brunch. I don’t know if Cheyenne had meant to invite other people or not but it was just the two of us. Cheyenne was hung over again, having spent another night at the strip club. When we sat down I noticed she had a large hickey on her neck. This was a little surprising since I had only moved out a week ago.
The next morning Cheyenne very timidly told me that she was having “doubts about our relationship.” I realized later how much planning had gone into this attempt to break up with me: she had waited until after the house party because she didn’t want the break up to interfere with her fun. But she had made me take Chaser during the party so that I would be bright and alert and ready for her break-up speech. She had also planned on the fact that I usually go the gym on Sunday morning. This was basically a hit-and-run tactic: she wanted to break up with me in a way so that I would not have time to discuss it with her. She had even arranged to stay at a friend’s house that night so she wouldn’t have to see me.
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