I hate bees.

I hate when a gigantic bumblebee runs me out of my house. I'm allergic, dammit!

I hate public displays of affection.

If I could pick just one mid-year resolution, it would be to stop making-out on the street while strangers pass by.

I hate sucking up my favorite thong with the vaccuum cleaner.

I'm not kidding.

I seriously hate this weather.

I don't know how much more I can take of this. I don't know why I'm suddenly so bothered by 80 degree weather, but I. cannot. stand. it. When it was 35 degrees outside, I managed to get myself outside every weekend, but now I'm facing my second free day of 70+ degree weather, and I just want to sit in my apartment with coffee and the blinds closed.

Gah.

And my leg is asleep. Just another incentive to stay ghostly pale all summer, right?

I hate earwax.

I hate when the RCN guy and his lackey take two and a half hours to "fix" my wireless connection. I also hate when their phones die and they borrow mine, leaving earwax all over the screen.

Dis. gust. ing.

I hate being misunderstood.

When you tell someone, "Hey, I don't want you or your ex-boyfriend to ever speak to me again," one might usually take that to mean, "Hey, this guy doesn't want me to contact him in ANY WAY."

Apparently, the Ex's Ex has a problem with communication. Specifically: he doesn't get that I'd like to avoid any with him. And he thinks it's perfectly appropriate to come up to me in a bar and ask if I'm "well."

Dude, stop pretending that you don't read my blog. You know I'm fine.

Also? You're a douche.

I hate when my cardigans smell.

I have two sets of cardigans. Wool ones for winter and cotton ones for every other time of year. I have ten cardigans (two brown, three black, one red, one green, one pink, one cream, and one white) that I finally pulled out of my closet because winter is definitely over.

All ten cardigans smell faintly like bars I hung out in last summer. Stale cigarette smoke and beer and rum and dirt.

Friday night laundry!

I hate plaid shorts.

I'm all about embracing my WASPiness for the sake of irony*, which explains my recent boat shoes purchase. But I will never - NEVER - own plaid shorts. I'm already anti-shorts because my legs are too skinny and also so white that I might cause car crashes. Blinding. Blinding drivers.

Also, why ruin plaid by putting it on shorts? Shorts are for white-trash people. White trash don't wear plaid!



















*I totally read the J. Crew catalogue for the sake of irony, as well.

I hate Kristen Bell.

I've seen about twenty minutes of Veronica Mars and I hated it. I'm sorry, Internet, but I don't take Nancy Drew type of stories seriously. Also, Kristen Bell annoys the hell out of me. It's just something about her dumb voice that does it to me.

I've been watching Deadwood on DVD and I cringed when she came onto the show with her dumb-looking face. Then she started saying "fuck" in every sentence and tried to seduce Kim Dickens and I was like, "Oh, please. Get over yourself, Kristen Bell." And then she stabbed Powers Boothe and I cheered him on as he beat her in the head. I don't think I've ever been on Powers Boothe's side. Ever.

Also, I think I've been watching too much Deadwood.

I hate summer in D.C.

I love living in D.C. But I hate heat. And I hate sweating. And I hate being hot.

Summer + D.C. = hell.

Megan likes to layer. Megan likes cardigans. And boots. And her super-fun winter hat that cost way too much but always gets her lots of compliments from strangers.

It's supposed to be above 75 degrees every day for the next ten days, according to weather.com

I'm going to melt.

And freckle.

I hate getting drunk and losing shit.

Last night I went with a friend to the Science Club and drank too much wine. I kept reminding myself not to forget my sunglasses, which were pushed off to the side of table (note to self: you carry a large purse for a reason. next time, place sunglasses inside purse).

So of course I left them there.

After I got home and went to bed, I kept waking up from these horrible dreams in which I'd lost my sunglasses. And I kept waking up and saying to myself, "Megan, they're just sunglasses. Why are you being like this? This is not important."

Today I went back to the bar, where the very nice bartender found my sunglasses for me.

I think my brain is actively trying to find something to worry about the way I worried about my thesis for, oh, 18 months.

I hate synchronicity.

Kelly: Guess what?!
Megan: What?
Kelly: I just bought the new Bjork and Feist albums!
Megan: Wha-aaat? Just now?
Kelly: Yeah, I just left Best Buy.
Megan: You're kidding.
Kelly: No. Why?
Megan: I just bought the new Bjork and Feist albums.
Kelly: Just now?
Megan: I clicked "complete order" on Amazon.com just before you called.
Kelly: Fuck.

Kelly is coming to live with me for the summer. We will have two copies each of the new Feist and Bjork albums.

I hate writer's block.

This morning I had the first GChat conversation with Megan that didn't involve lots of sighs and frowny faces in response to her hateful thesis jargon. Here's an excerpt:

Me: man, will you have anything to write about in TWH now?
Megan: HAHA
Megan: i don't know!
Megan: maybe i can write about normal things, like how i hate that dustin diamond MADE himself fat to go on celebrity fit club for the money and fame
Me: hahahaha
Megan: i truly believe that

Whew. We're all okay.

I hate Megan's thesis, part II.

I'm agreeing with Tyler

I hate Megan's thesis.

Seriously, Internet, I think we're all in the same boat here. If I didn't live half-way across the country, I would be getting Megan seriously, seriously fucked up tomorrow night after she turns that shit in.

I hate my printer.

I hate when my printer runs out of ink the night before my thesis is due.

Seriously, God, what's the problem?

I hate my computer.

I hate when my laptop dies four days before my thesis is due.

The good part is that most of the paper was backed up elsewhere. The bad part is fourfold:

1) I lost three hours' worth of major edits to my introduction.
2) I had to take the day off work to redo the edits I made last night pre-death and finish up the rest.
3) I wandered around Cleveland Park at 10 p.m. last night searching for an eyeglasses kit so I could use the mini-screwdriver to open up the back of my computer, like the Dell tech folks told me too. After finding one in the last of three stores, the damn thing broke before I could get my computer open.
4) Of course, the stress of all this only magnified my sleep problems, and despite heavy melatonin consumption, I only managed about four hours of sleep.

So now I feel guilty for taking the day off, mad at my computer, frustrated with my thesis committee, overwhelmed by the massive amount of revisions I still need to do, and tired. Prime writing conditions, wouldn't you say?