i HATE you……..

I have just finished listening to 1984, the unabridged audiobook and I have had a genius idea. Whilst the book is full of great ideas about how to run a society (I particularly like tv’s you can’t turn off and room 101, i know a lot of people I could send there) the idea that stood out the most was the Two minute hate, where you get together and are directed to hate things, people and pretty much whatever you are told. So, dear readers, here is my version of the 2 minute hate. Its different inasmuch as I hate too many things to fit into two minutes……

• Bureaucrats who know NOTHING about what they are doing. The person in human resources who didn’t know what a workplace agreement was, or whether I needed one (for those not in the know, a workplace agreement, or AWA, is a piece of workplace reform brought in by John Howard as a way to negotiate employer-employee relations, it is pretty much the biggest news here in Australia, except for the all shattering news that Australia lost to England in the World Cup, again). This person, to not have heard of them, must have been living under a rock, and frankly, I am not surprised at this revelation. Fucking Grade A Moron. This is the totality of the job, human resources! This is the one reason they get up in the morning, I find it beyond belief (although not surprising that the ANU has such luminaries in their employ) that this person is not only employed, but seems to think it funny they didn’t know!

• Ugly ass men on gaydar asking if I want to suck them off, as the first thing they say to me. Guess what quasimodo, no I don’t. Maybe its the less than erotic photo of your dick you sent me together with a “you looking for a good time?” message, but let me be very clear YOU ARE ONTO A LOSER HERE. Maybe I am traditional, but I don’t think it normal to start a conversation with “I have a big load for you”. It’s either human lard mountains wondering if I am looking for a passive bottom (mate, I am looking for the occasional flash of meaning in my life, not to endure the gross indignity of looking for it in you) or clearly people from Psychiatric Services (and since when did they get the internet there?) asking to be my daddy. FUCK YOU ALL. I reserve a special category in my own personal inferno for said madmen who repeatedly message me. It must be shocking to you to learn that in the intervening 24 hours I haven’t suddenly become enamored with you and desirous to know the taste of your sweat.

• In fact, whilst I am on this theme, lets get to the heart of the issue. Men in general. They suck. What is up with that bundle of emotionally retarded commitment phobic retards? They are not from Mars, they are from deep sea vents and their closest relative is bound to be the 3ft. long polyp worm. I am waiting for the David Attenborough special. No, its not OK if you stand me up and then want to meet again. It’s not ok to disappear, and its definitely not OK to engage in the most superficial of fallacies and then look shocked when I figure it out. BASTARDS

• ACTION buses. I HATE YOU. I hate how you meander meaninglessly through suburbs for hours. I hate you seem to think that the timetable is the start of a negotiating process between you and your prospective customers. I loathe how you can cut services and raise prices. I sit in gob-smacked incredulity at the Neanderthals you employ as your drivers (although I do know some very nice bus drivers as well, it must be said). People who smoke WHILST DRIVING THE BUS. Ummmm hello, is this 1955? I hate how the timetable is designed to retard the free flow of passengers when changing buses, resulting in 30 minute waits at interchanges that outside office hours represent warzones between gangs of roving youths. You must be credited with turning suburban Canberra into a place that gives Mogadishu a run for its money. BASTARDY BASTARDS

• Most other people. Retards. Self centred moronic individuals who get in my way, who walk painfully slowly. Who look shocked when they have to pay for something and spend 5 minutes going through their bag for change and vouchers. Idiotic teenagers who seem to think salvation and alterity exist by looking exactly like each other. Guys, when I was a teenager I had the good sense to stay indoors and wait until it wore off. I do not need to see your foul makeup smeared face in Garema Place in some bizarre invocation of the living dead. Go home, get a shower and do not get the skateboard anywhere near me. Happy coupley people, THEY MUST DIE. I dont need to see you kissing in the street or holding hands or generally being anything other than miserable. Stop rubbing your transitory success in my face. Babies. SHUT THE FUCK UP. I am very glad you have kids, but I do not need to sit next to a screaming child whilst you say “oh no Chardonnay, we believe in letting the baby cry it out.” GIVE IT A FUCKING DUMMY AND GET OFF MY PLANET. Get your prams out of my way, stop hitting me with your voluminous baby accessories and really dear, lets be honest, all kids until about 6 months look like a constipated turd, all squished up and wonky colours.

• Myself. Oh I am the worst, because I have such high expectations of myself, which I am seemingly incapable of fulfilling. I hate my ability to swing randomly between moods. I hate the fact I haven’t yet given into the giving up. I hate the fact I care about random things and not about important things. I loathe it when I go along with people and what they say because its easy, even when a little voice in my head is shouting to do the contrary. How I will let people be rude to me under the charade of being funny because I don’t have the strength anymore to argue. How I can’t do so many things, and how the boundaries of my reality are so defined by my imagination. How I don’t go to the gym and how I don’t care.

……. and breathe………….

Man that was good, I need a smoke now, perhaps whilst driving a bus. I recommend you all go home and think about what you hate. Give into the gloriousness of baseless antipathy and revel in your dark side. Its the people who don’t you have to worry about.