I hate you. And it’s your fault.
I hate you for hanging wind chimes. I hate you more if you think they’re pleasant.
I hate you for talking baby talk of any kind, unless you’re a baby, which you are not. I hate you for saying “supper” and I hate you for clicking your tongue over the top of your mouth. I hate you for squeaking a styra-foam cup and I really hate you for popping your gum..
More reasons I hate you
– you state things in the form of questions, i.e. “Don’t you think that we should bail Uncle Charlie out?”
– you call telling lies telling stories
– you proudly espouse whatever form of corporal punishment you use
– you threaten your kids with shots or the police
– you say bullcrap things like, “God will never give you more than you can handle.”
– you don’t tell me when I have a booger hanging out of my turned up nose.
Oh, there are so many reasons I hate you. I can list more, if you want.
This might be because I’m bipolar, but I think it’s just because I hate you.