I hate neighbors who think they can sing opera.

Shut the fuck up.

I hate underdeveloped senses of humor.

When asked what I want to do tonight, the appropriate answer would be: "Die."

Unfortunately, no one else thinks that's as funny as I do.

I hate Corus Bank.

Last night I went to CVS to get a prescription filled. Because it's 2007, and I only write checks to my landlord, I planned to use my debit card. Of course, that was declined, which wasn't very reassuring because I look like I'm one of those people who can't afford their thirty-dollar prescriptions and have to drive up to Canada to stock up.

So I called my bank today since there was obviously something wrong, since my balance was definitely not under thirty dollars. And I got a lovely lady, Jasmine, on the phone, who informed me that my card had been "compromised" and they sent me a new one last week. (Let's not even think about how my card had been compromised, yet they waiting an extra week before they closed it, okay?) Anyway, I told her that because I wasn't expecting a new card, and because I receive tons of credit card offers in the mail everyday, that I probably through it away by mistake. (Oh, God, I've become the number one target for identity theft.) Then Jasmine treated me as if I was the biggest idiot she'd ever spoken to (and she must know, considering she WORKS IN CUSTOMER SERVICE AT A FUCKING BANK), and told me to check again at home just in case.

Oh, JJ, thanks for the help!

I hate napping at night.

Sure, falling asleep for three hours when you get home from a hard day at work sounds great in theory. Why wouldn't you just want to sleep your problems away? It's cheaper than buying vodka, and more socially acceptable than cutting. But still, it's a horrible idea.

I woke up after the first hour at 5:44 because it was storming, and I thought, "Fuck! It's going to rain again." Because I thought it was tomorrow. Oh, JEESH! Don't you just HATE that, too? Now, you'd think that I'd say to myself, "Hey, don't fall back to sleep. One hour won't kill you, but if you fall back to sleep now you're never going to get to sleep tonight." But, because I enjoy making poor choices, I went to my room, changed out of my work clothes and into comfortable jeans, and went back to sleep. On the sofa.

Hey, at least I had enough sense to not nap in bed at six o'clock.

I hate dribbling.

To be more accurate, I threw my head back with my mouth connected to the hole in the coffee cup lid and the coffee sprayed out the sides of my mouth and onto my jacket.



And that may be why I'm currently single. This is one on a long list of coffee related incidents lately. I'm always covered in coffee stains.

I hate getting old and tired.

I was up until 3:30 a.m. on Sunday morning. I slept in until 8:30 a.m., because I have sleep problems.

It's Tuesday, early evening, and I'm so tired, I want to take a benadryl and sleep for the next 12 hours.

Should I skip yoga and running and just sleep all night? That would be bad since I skipped yoga and running last Thursday to drink and be inappropriate and embarrass myself.

But sleep would feel so much better than embarrassment...although maybe not as good as being inappropriate.

I hate missing ingredients.

I hate when I go to make bagels and realize I'm missing yeast.

Now I have to go walk allllll the way up the street. Sigh.

I hate the Apple Store.

I hate the Apple Store more than walking through Lakeview on St. Patrick's Day. I hate it because it's not even as entertaining as walking past thirty bars with half-naked (or completely naked, while hailing a cab, because that's certainly effective) Midwestern post-grads. I hate it because, unlike St. Patrick's Day in Chicago, it is completely, utterly, and disgustingly pretentious.

I spent two hours in the Apple Store on Michigan Avenue on Friday. The "Genius Bar" was - shocker! - short-staffed, and the few geniuses there were busy being social inept and greasy. One of them was talking to a customer's very, very ancient mother on a webcam, explaining to her how video conferencing worked. And my genius had me sit at the bar, watching my computer go through a stress test, which involved running iTunes, chess, and some crazy-assed graphing program (apparently I can really put my eleventh-grade pre-Calc to work with my iBook). It was supposed to show me how they fixed my computer problem, and I was relieved that finally, my computer would no longer shut off randomly and not turn on again.

Then I got home and my computer wouldn't turn on. Thanks, turds.

Also, Justin Long is a dickface and it makes me want to never buy an Apple again.

I hate some things about St. Patrick's Day.

For instance, there's no such thing as a positive experience on public transportation on St. Patrick's Day, is there? You're always going to have to deal with beer stench and chocolate gold coins being tossed at you and frat boys in green Abercrombie shirts taking up two seats at a time and maybe a chicken bone under your seat.

I also hate when I arrive home at 2:30 a.m. and an ambulance and three cop cars are parked in front of my building with all their lights flashing. Gives you that warm and comfy feeling inside.

I hate having to write in the hypothetical.

The next time I hypothetically send someone a stalkery message on Facebook because I may have just been dumped at the time and at a low point of my life, which conveniently lasted all of one week, and after which I very much regretted my hypothetical stalkery message, I will make DAMN sure that the object of my hypothetical stalking does not live in my neighborhood, does not work in another division at my workplace that - just my luck! - might involve work-related interaction, does not happen to make me stand in a bar looking like a deer in the headlights because I'm really drunk and embarrassed that my friend with me is LAUGHING AND SMILING at my hypothetical stalkee, and will not run in to me ever again.

If I can avoid that, I can avoid writing blog posts like this one.

I hate shoulder pain.

Yesterday, while sitting at my desk and rolling my shoulders back because sitting at a desk for 10 hours straight makes you a little stiff, I suddenly felt immense pain in the back of my right shoulder. And the pain is getting worse, probably because I keep "testing" my shoulder to see if it still hurts when I move. Every time I rolled onto it when I slept, the pain would wake me up. And I've become somewhat of a "roller" in my sleep, where I just cycle and turn myself around constantly. It was a long night.

I'm really afraid I've dislocated my shoulder and I don't know what to do about it.

I've haven't dislocated in years, but I have shallow joints and a history of dislocation. Maybe I'll call my dad and ask him. He once dislocated a shoulder while reaching for a bowl of M&Ms.

I hate too much melatonin.

Last night I went to an office happy hour. I was the last person to leave. I popped a melatonin pill just before I went to bed at 9:30, even though I knew I wouldn't have trouble going to sleep with all that alcohol in my system.

I woke up at 2 a.m. Dehydrated. I drank two huge glasses of water. I iced some cupcakes. I checked my email. I tried to go back to sleep. For an hour and a half.

So I took another melatonin pill.

Now it's 6 a.m. and I'm fighting to keep my eyes open. My schedule today is not flexible, so I'll be forced to work in a sleeping-pill haze until it wears off. Oh and it's raining and I have to carry a pan of 16 cupcakes to work. This basically means no coffee, because I can't carry a pan of cupcakes, an umbrella, and a cup of coffee all at the same time.

Screwed!

I hate ending weekends like this one.

The Sunday night after a great three-day weekend always makes me a little depressed. I'd like to be drinking wine and getting ready to see of Montreal for the fourth time in a week, but instead I have to go through emails for work tomorrow and do laundry and go grocery shopping and clean my apartment.

It doesn't help to waste three hours in the afternoon eating stale pita bread and having strange im conversations with the blinds closed.

I hate GMail.

GMail is currently blocking me from checking my email. For the past three hours, it's told me that there's some server error and GMail is unavailable. Of course, my cubicle neighbor, Adam, is having no trouble with GMail.

I'm sure I have a ton of employment scam emails to respond to just sitting in my inbox right now.