They say haters be hating. I’m a hater; I’m spectacularly good at finding things/people/situations and even inanimate objects to hate. It’s a god given gift. I don’t remember asking for it, but I’ve never tried to return it either. Though I’m sure if I’d come with a docket, I’d have been returned by now…. No docket, suckers! Did I ever mention my Mum’s name is Rosemary? Well actually it’s not but it would explain a lot.
Honestly though it’s the gift that just keeps giving. Though to be fair I’m really the giver said gift and not the recipient. I’m sure they have a whole different view. Fucks I give? ZERO! I think the only thing I care less about is anything motivational. Books, movies, music… whatever. Boring as fuck. Plus if you actually need to find motivation to do something externally, you’re not committed enough. You shouldn’t have walked past the self-help section. Or are they the same? Or do you need the motivation before you make it to self-help? Regardless, you need help. Obviously you’re not going to find that here. But you’re welcome that I’m willing to point out you need help. That’s a freebie.
So these motivational things, I can only assume the would motivate me to do is swallow a pharmacy, drink copious amounts of wine, slit my wrists or hunt down Mark Zuckerberg cunt to give him a fist to the face. Truth be told, that last one is pretty much a compulsion and anything inspires it. Even beautiful sunsets and long walks on the beach…. I’m choking on my own vomit here! Ack! Do people really do that hallmark shit? Fist to the face for MZcunt and baaaaack to my happy place. *sigh*
Oh yeah I was taking about my gift of naturally being able to hate just about anything. Sure as shit can make me a right bitch at best, at worst I’d likely end up with jail time. Well if I was dumb enough to get caught, hasn’t happened yet. I never say never, but that exception to every rule wiggle room, this is it “I will never get caught.” Though if I ever did end up caught, for what I assume is a heinous act, I’d like to think my boobs can get me out of it or anything really.
Yes they are real and no I don’t mean really purchased. This theory hasn’t done me wrong yet! If they were purchased, the suckers would have paid for themselves several times over. Though it does make me hate fake boobs. Now gentleman before you protest that any boobs are good boobs, try to see it from my perspective. I’ve got these gods given gifts that other women have bolted on that bring into question both the natural state of my rack and have random drunk girls wanting to squeeze them in nightclub bathrooms. No shit, this happens more often than not. Unfortunately for you dear perverted reader, not an insult go for it, the answer is always a resounding HELL NO! The rule is looky no touchy. Exceptions to this rule involved diamonds, over 3ct. Ask my husband. Yeah feel sorry for that poor guy, though he knew what I was when he married me AND he was sober. I think he would tell you it hurts so good, though I might be wrong. I’m never wrong btw, unless I say I am, making me right. That rule has zero wiggle room. But yeah my husband, say it with me “poor bastard”…..
But honestly if I hate something there is a damn good reason why. Though good is subjective I guess. Birds, I hate them. Why? Because they have soulless creepy eyes and I’m certain the little bastards are just waiting to peck mine out, out of sheer spite. Though if I’m to be fair mine are pretty soulless and creepy most of the time too. Maybe that’s why I avoid mirrors or maybe it’s just I’m afraid I won’t have a reflection or I’ll be all weird and shimmery like in Twilight. Oh Jesus Christ I hate Twilight! I’ve been told I look like Kirsten Stewart. I don’t see it; she smiles far too much in comparison. When I get this comparison I tell people I’ll bloody cut them! I totally would too but whatever I’m straying off topic, please try to keep up with the hot mess that is my mind. I know, I struggle too at times but together we will get there in the end. Aww, want to cuddle? Step the fuck back, I just told you I’d cut you as soon as look at you, take me seriously. But yeah my soulless eyes, I think you see my point.
But haters. Yeah you, I’m talking to you, oh for the love if god sit the fuck down your presence is noted. It’s on the list of things ” I don’t give a fuck about,” which is less than zero fucks, cause with zero fucks I at least tried to count how many I don’t give …. Ahh yeah, back to the hating pleb over in the corner. It’s a long list, but I’m sure you on it somewhere, wedged in between Paleo, muppet babies anything one direction and all the other shit I never bothered to write down, cause I didn’t care enough. Ok maybe you’re not there, but you are in spirit. Trust me, do you think I’m the type to lie? Well I am, lying gets you places. But in this instance I’m telling the truth, I don’t need you to get me places do I? Shut the fuck up, that was a rhetorical question. Google rhetorical and get back to me. FYI I’m talking at you, not to you…. Just because you’re here doesn’t mean you get to speak. Ever! (but you will, more on this later)
But something I do love? Wait for it cause the irony is killer. Haters. Oh yep I LOVE them. Not just cause they are a giant pain in the ass and I secretly love giant pains in the ass. They give me a reason to get up in the morning, so I can deliver the pain in the assery back to them a million fold. Think of it as sport, I do!
Why do I love haters? Simply because they hate, so passionately and are so committed. Rare these days, maybe motivational books work? I should try to read some, a little boost in motivation wouldn’t hurt, well not me at least. I sense this is dangerous territory, for others, I’m heading to my newsstand app as soon as I finish here…
Haters. Yes, back to topic. Someone that takes an hour or sometimes hours (commitment noted) out if their busy day to write me an essay on how dumb, stupid, ugly or godless I am really tickles my fancy. The insults? Well other than making for good joke fodder, slide right off. But the absolutely delightful part is you own them. Or at least a teeny piece of their brain, which they can never get back. It’s like you pissed on it and claimed it as your territory. That’s what the first fleet did right? They CAN’T forget you, they hate you too much. So I’ve pulled up a picnic rug, poured myself a wine (Pinot Noir FYI) and taken up residence right up there in that obsessed little noggin. Can you feel that pounding? That’s me tapping on your brain. Wow, fuck that’s going to drive you crazy over time. See now isn’t this fun? Tap, tap, tap…. You can’t escape it! This really is all types of fun…
Another thing about being in someone’s head in the digital age, is you just KNOW they are cyber stalking you. From FB, to IG, to twitter and of course your blog. They visit more than my Mum does. Yeah isn’t she bloody proud! She affectionately calls me “the devil”, all kinds of warm and fuzzy. No really that does make me warm and fuzzy. Almost as much as hunting lawyers, almost. Very close second.
But haters, they can’t help the compulsion to just peek, it can’t hurt right? She’ll never know right? Buzzzz…. Wrong I know and yes it hurts, well not me, I find it so delish I could gobble it up. But you hater, now after reading a bit more of my drivel, hate me even more. Try staying away now, HA! Maybe you will stay away, for a day, a week, a month or even a year, providing we both live that long, but one day you will fall off the wagon. It’s a spectacular thud too, like stepping in the freshest pile of dog shit there is, short of putting your foot up a dog’s ass. Jesus hater, that’s fucken nasty, WTF is wrong with you?
You’ll be literally frothing at the mouth; all the hate just oozing out your pores and the hate pheromone will permeate through the air. Probably a good time to go bird watching. Birds like shiny things right? Ohh the hate in your eyes shines bright, bird magnet. Maybe birds aren’t so bad. Maybe I’ll get one and train it. A collection of haters eyeballs, all kinds of fantastic. Hang on, I need to jot this down before I forget or something else takes over my brain….
So back to haters, you will have to look, desperately looking through old posts, finding more to hate and working yourself up in to a molten ball of hate frenzy. So burning hot you are either going to have to act out and do something stupid, that you’ll regret and I’ll find ridiculously funny or risk having a stroke. Which way will you go? Either way it’s going to be delightful, because we both know you’re not going the stroke route.
You’re looking at the comments section; fingers poised easy to fire away a vitriolic rant. You know you shouldn’t comment, but hell it’s anonymous, so no harm done right? You’re right, trust me, would I lie? Fuck we covered this hater, are you really that stupid? Rhetorical again. For the love of god, if I didn’t love you so much I’d fucken hate you too! But it’s all harmless, right? Well until you find yourself coming back to check to see if there is a reply. How dare there be no reply? How dare THAT be the reply…. Whip, whip, whip and the hate just grows…. The space I take in your brain grows, I’m thinking of building a condo at this point….
This internal struggle with hate but needing to spy will just your guilty pleasure. It’s ok, no ones telling…. But I own you. Oh the delight! So when this happens to you, you know who you are, just do me one small favour? Imagine the mansion I’m living in inside your brain. I’m swinging naked from the chandelier and burrowing away at your sanity and all rent-free.
Yeah I’m an asshole! And I own you. Glorious!
One last note: