I hate when the signals that travel throughout my brain are all scrambly and short-circuity. It's like depending on an entire fleet of drunk, one-legged bike messengers to safely and quickly deliver boxes of ancient scrolls in a rainstorm, with no directions, in the dark.
Sometimes, I hate that I hate sports and all things sporting. I really wanna have something terribly intelligent and insightful and witty to add to your thread about collegiate sporting events, but I hate sports. To be honest, I'm not entirely sure what sport you're even talking about. I'm assuming football. Hope I'm right, but I don't really care. I hate sports.
I hate that, as soon as we've got that giant flat screen attached to the wall, a herd of big fat drunk yelling people will descend upon my quiet little home every Sunday, and scream at Ben Turfmuncherburger. High Definition, indeed. Well, they can bring their own chips and cocktail weenies. I'm taking my dog and going to my mother-in-law's. We'll watch pbs and gossip about big fat drunk yelling people.
I hate that I want a smoke so damn bad, my tits hurt. Wait, my tits hurt? Oh dear christ, another period on the horizon? Didn't I just have one? I want chocolate, too, so there's my answer...
I hate that the barley in last night's soup continued to absorb liquid, and today's lunch is no longer soup, it's more beefy barley salad. With cabbage!
I hate the terrifying flu thing that's going around. Couple of acquaintances have been down with it for days. Not just shuffling around in a sickly manner, but down. In bed. In the dark. Close to death kinda. I've been washing my hands and rubbing doorknobs with CaviWipes for days, but I betcha I still get it.
I hate that I just typed "rubbing doorknobs", and nothing hilarious occurred to me.