Things I hate (ok dislike a WHOLE lot)

So, I'm sitting here thinking, "What in the world will I blog about today??" and then I happened to be on Facebook, where my sister posts that she hates taking out braids, which I could SO commiserate with. And then it dawned on me. I hate lots of stuff, and I think I want to gripe about it right now, since it's a slow day here at the office.

First, let's agree that this is not an all-inclusive list. There are lots of things (and even people) that I dislike. However, these are just the things that I am probably most noted for. People who know me will read this, shake their heads and think, "yup, she hates that..."

Ok, so jumping right in?? I hate laundry and cleaning. I do it because (and when) I have to. I have my own way of organizing things, and most of the time, that includes being able to see stuff from where ever I happen to be sitting. It's not just a mess. It's organized chaos. Ok? When it's time for me to find them, I know exactly where my gold, platform Steve Madden's are... I don't have to look through a million shoe boxes or dig through the closet. They are right there, in front of the dresser, (maybe) under those pair of black pants. See? It works for me. Most people don't understand it, but it works--it really does. Now as for laundry--don't go thinkin' that I'm walking around in stinky clothes. I'm NOT. I have no problem washing and drying clothes. It's the bit about folding them up and putting them away. There should be a machine for that. I mean, my arms get tired... and I inevitably run out of hangers and drawer space. I know I waste a lot of time in the morning looking for "the blue exercise top" or two matching socks, but eventually I find them... eventually. And that's what matters, right?

Secondly, I hate doing hair. I used to enjoy it. As a matter of fact, for a few summers in high school and during my freshman year in college, that was my side gig. I did hair. And then I had a daughter. Before I saw her face, I saw her hair. Jet black. And LOTS of it. Once I came out of my labor-induced coma, I thought that she and I would have a great time doing hair--the little bows, barrettes, ribbons... I was so excited; I had my own little doll whose hair I could play with as much as I wanted. That was, UNTIL the wavy, curly, cutesy stuff was replaced by "the real deal," which began to grow, and grow, and grow until at 4 months she had more hair than me.* By that time, hair had become a chore. This child's hair is as thick as 3 peoples' and she has the nerve to have eczema in her scalp AND to be tenderheaded. No relaxers allowed! So we've fought through braids of all kinds since she was about a year and a half. And there's ALWAYS the take-out, wash, re-braid process that I LOATHE... it's a two day thing, which used to involve much crying and complaining (on both our parts)... Now that she's older, we're better at the process but I still HATE IT.**

I also hate early mornings. I am a night owl by nature. Does anyone remember when the channels used to "sign off??" You know, when the jets would fly across the screen and those perfect male voices would strike up their rendition of the Star Spangled Banner? In the summertime, that was how I knew it was time for bed. Now that there's cable/satellite (and all the good stuff comes on Cartoon Network's Adult Swim at 11), I hardly ever go to bed on-time. So yeah I could easily stay up until 2 in the morning watching Squidbillies or Robot Chicken*** but then there's that 6 am alarm I have to deal with. It drives me bananas. It startles the crap outta me every morning. I have to set it for 5:40am or so, so that I can mentally count down how much time I have until I absolutely HAFTA get up. I have to hit "snooze" at least three times; I can never just hear the alarm, shut it off, and then jump outta bed. NEVER.

Early-morning waking is a long, arduous process that must be carefully handled. If I get irritated while I'm trying to wake up, it could cause me to be a grouch ALL DAY. So most people know that all they will likely get from me before 10 am are grunts of "good morning" "uh huh" "yeah" and "mm hmm" ... I will never understand my daughter--the complete opposite, who wakes up smiling and talking endlessly. She actually asked me to wake her up with tickles when she was younger. Ha! Not me, not on your life...Tickle me outta my sleep if you wanna. My only suggestion is that you first know how to nurse a black eye...

Fruit. I also dislike fruit. Not because it doesn't taste good...but because it doesn't ALWAYS taste good. I hate when I'd buy a container of  gorgeous, red strawberries, a nice, plump watermelon, or a well-thumped canteloupe, only to take that first bite and discover a taste similar to kool-aid without the sugar. Blah, bland, yuck! gross!! I mean, it's a gamble--you can never tell when you're going to bite in to the strawberry-est strawberry or if that bite is going to send you straight to the trash can. I know fruit is good for you. But I never buy it, and now I've gotten so used to not eating it, that I don't think I like it anymore*. Maybe I'll give it another try. But only after someone else has tried it first and knows that it tastes the way it's supposed to.

There are other, more-serious things that I dislike, that over time you'll probably read about: bad service, disloyal people, passive-aggressive people, poor drivers**, all things ghetto, fake church people***, black movies... Shucks, I could start in on any of those right now. Especially my dislike for "modern" black movies (they're all the same) and fake church people (ugh!! -rolling my eyes-), but I'll save that for another day when I'm bored and just a "touch" gripey.

"The truth will set you free. But first, it will piss you off." ~ Gloria Steinem ~


*No lie!! I'd post the pic, but Loo would KILL me...
**and it STILL takes 2 days
***don't judge me. Every one has their vice. Mine is stupid, mindless cartoonage and movies.
* I just caught myself making an "eeewww gross.." lip scrunch :/
** Imma card carryin road-rager. I inherited it. ahem!
*** Or "Christians" as Ms. G. calls 'um