Hate-Love#20: Parking

I have been so busy wrapping everything up at my job and completing a tour de force of the local spas, that I have had little to be annoyed about. Yesterday, however, this Prius reminded me of one of my biggest pet peeves.

I hate...

When people park on corners. It dawns on me now that many of the things that bug me have to do with driving, but what can I say; living in California with many of the nations' worst drivers makes all things car related rather bothersome. This one, however, takes the cake. When someone parks on a corner, it means that you can't see around them to the street beyond, which, especially in a hill situation, makes it impossible to see if there is another car careening towards you. Thus, not only will this stupidly parked car make you drive further into the lane of oncoming traffic than in even remotely safe, but you also won't be able to see if any of said oncoming traffic is in fact "coming". This usually results in you edging ever so cautiously around the poorly parked car, whoever is coming around the turn in the opposite direction slamming on the brakes in an effort not to hit you, and then you getting flipping you off when the other car realizes that you're in their lane on a blind corner. "It's not my fault!" I want to scream, "Look how this idiot parked! Let's BOTH hit his car so he knows what a moron he is!" But, naturally, there is no time for this exchange in a near death collision. Seriously, who is dumb enough to park right on a corner and think it's just a dandy place to park, especially when there are a million other spaces to park on the street?! I don't understand how they could not have had a similar experience as the one I just described and realize that they are perpetuating an already rampant problem?! Oy.

However annoying this may be, I will admit that there is one, albeit small, plus to this for me.

I love...

Things that make me slow down while driving. I know that this "love" may sound odd, but I really do drive waaaay to fast. I cant' help it; I'm usually in a rush, and I hate driving, so the less time I spend in the car the better. Thus, it really is good for me when something makes me slow down, especially in residential neighborhoods where this issue is most common. After all, I don't want to kill anyone crossing the street to get their mail; THAT would be a hassle.

Hate-Love #19: Cats

I know I am probably going to catch a lot of flack for this one, especially from my Mom, but here goes nothing anyway...

I hate...

Cats. Let me preface this by saying that I haven't met all the cats in the world, and there may be some seriously awesome felines out there (a friend recently told me that he had a cat that liked to ride in the car with him and stick its head out the window like a dog-now that sounds like one cool cat! and my parent's cat, Angel (pictured left) is of course an exception) but for the most part, I'm just really not a cat fan. Unlike different dog breeds with differing lengths of hair and shedding abilities, pretty much all cats have crazy long hair and shed EVERYWHERE (especially on chairs where they nap). I cannot leave my mother's house without looking like I seriously sat on a cat. Very annoying. Cats are also not very big on affection, unless it's on their own terms, and who wants to deal with that? A dog greets you when you come home after you've been away for three days or three minutes with the same enthusiasm and need for attention, a cat? Not so much. Even if your cat does greet you at the door, I would bet money that it runs away shortly after your start paying attention to it, doesn't wag it's tail, and most definitely doesn't act as if your coming home is the best thing that's happened all day. A dog also wants love whenever you're willing to give it. A cat, on the other hand, may come sit on your lap, but as soon as you start petting it, or do anything it deems unworthy, it leaves, usually by digging it's claws into the tenderest part of your thigh and bounding away. What kind of pet is that?! What kind of a pet is one who sheds everywhere, only wants attention sometimes, and who will probably scratch you if you piss it off? I would rather have a goldfish. If I cry, or say "ow!" my dog comes over and licks me until he thinks it's all better, would a cat do that? Never! I just think cats are far too selfish to be considered pets, they are more like very hairy house-guests who poop in a box you have to clean and eat smelly, expensive food. Wouldn't it be easier to let your brother live with you for a few weeks to keep you company? I just don't get it.

I may not like cats, but like any sane person, I love...

Kittens. There is no way around it, kittens are friggin' adorable. Kittens are usually much more cuddly than cats, they don't shed as much (and they are just so soft and tiny who cares anyway), they are too tiny to cause any real harm if you freak them out, and are generally just too wonderful for words other than "awwwww, I WANT one!" This is, actually, how my parents ended up with a cat. It's actually a fairly strange story. When I was in elementary school I asked my parents for a cat, and they said, "Go read a book about cats, and then tell us if you want one." Determined to prove them wrong, I read a very informative book about raising a cat and decided, "So, yeah, I definitely don't' EVER want a cat." Imagine my surprise when my parents got me with a cat for my 16th birthday. I was a bit confused, but please tell me what 16 year old girl is able to say no to a 4 week old kitten? I named him Angel, and I was in love. I slept with my kitten, played with him, fed him, bathed him, and generally just smothered him with so much love that he got used it and became pretty much the best kitten ever. The next year, when I left for college, Angel didn't come with me. I didn't visit all that often my first year, and to my astonishment, when I returned home, my parents had turned my adorable kitten into a fat somewhat obnoxious cat. Hmmm.....I should have seen it coming. And that is how my parents came to permanently own a cat named Angel, and I came to get a dog. Thus, I loooove kittens, as long as there are willing parents available to take over their care when they magically turn into cats.

Hate-Love# 18: Traffic

It's amazing that I have been so busy lately that I haven't even had time to be annoyed about things, much less blog about them! One thing did come up yesterday, however, that really makes my blood boil!

I hate...

Traffic. If you have ever been in traffic you know that mostly it just sucks: it's usually very hot, it wastes gas, it's boring, the scenery doesn't change, and you can't get to wherever you're headed in any sort of timely manner. Honestly, there is probably no one on the planet that actually likes traffic, however, there are certain things about tailgating on the freeway that really gets my panties all up in a knot. I mean, just sitting in traffic by itself is enough to make me want to mount a paintball gun on the hood of my car and start open firing on the sparkly white Beamer in front of me. Add to that sitting in traffic for 30 minutes only to find that the hold up is the idiots rubbernecking a guy changing his tire, is beyond aggravating. Similarly angering is the phenomenon where you are sitting in an epic traffic jam only to have it clear suddenly after 45 minutes with no warning and seemingly no explanation at all. Arg! My other, and perhaps largest traffic pet peeve is when it's taking damn near forever to get through a city street and the moron in front of me stops, AT A YELLOW LIGHT, thus making me miss not only that light, but all the green lights after it! A yellow light means slow down, or speed up so that you make it through before it turns red, not STOP! Red lights are for stopping. When the person in front of you stops at a yellow light they make absolutely certain that you won't get the opportunity to gun through it semi-legally. Infuriating.

as much as I hate traffic, however,

I love...

Finding enough time to catch up with my friends and relatives. My Nana lives in Florida, my BFF's live in Utah and San Diego respectively, and my lil' bro lives in Rhode Island, so keeping up with all of them requires a lot of skyping, e-mailing, facebooking, and, when I find the time, talking on the phone. The problem is, however, that I find it difficult to schedule time to have the marathon talk sessions that are required to keep abreast of my loved one's lives. Traffic, however, affords me this time. While sitting in traffic I am captive in one place with my only form of entertainment being my cell phone. Thus, though I may groan when I hit a massive bumper to bumper sesh, I just whip out my bluetooth and settle in to hear about Paige's pending marriage, Dylan's new internship, and the latest Florida gossip; not such a bad way to pass the time after all.

Hate-Love# 17: Laughing You A** Off

As far as days go, today was (in the words of my favorite blogger, Perez Hilton) pretty Craptastic with a capital 'c'. So today, in an effort to lift my mood (just in case the large glass of wine I'm now babysitting doesn't work) I'm going to write only about something I love...

Moments so funny you cry, your face hurts, and you pee (just a little!). These are the moments I live for: the knee slapping, belly quaking, can't stop until you physically hurt from laughing so hard, kind of moments. These moments tend to come out of the blue, but are so amazingly worth the wait when they finally do. Funny moments can, of course, come from random YouTube videos, someone falling, being frightened, or generally humiliated, something hilariously original that your friend says, or maybe even a really good stand up comedian. Any way they come, however, rip-roarious moments are possibly more satisfyingly tasty then a BBQ-ed Rib Eye steak.

Above is a photo of my beautiful BFF, Paige, who has quite possibly one of the best laughs on the planet. This photo always reminds me of the wonderful and hysterical adventures we enjoyed during our three month trip to Southeast Asia, and thus always succeeds in lifting my mood. Do you have a photo or a friend who always makes you fell better? This kind of friend is a good one to have in your arsenal, so if you're lacking this in your inner circle, go find one, stat! I have to admit though, that my fav funny moments are the ones that take you by surprise, one such moment happened recently, and though I may not do this story justice, I'm certainly going to try.

I was over at a friend's house watching the end of the San Jose Sharks game and we were all yucking it up as usual; paying no real attention to the TV. As the game came to a close, some commentators came on the screen who were most likely talking about something related to the game, but we were all so busy talking at once that we didn't much hear what pearls of hockey wisdom they were imparting. All of a sudden my boyfriend says, "WAIT! Rewind that!" All in the room looked at him a bit puzzled, but the remote holder complied and rewound a couple minutes, "Watch!" My boyfriend said. None of us were ready for the unexpected hilarity that ensued: on the screen were the three commentators who seemed to be sitting casually in one of the upper boxes in the hockey arena. All three (commentators) guys were holding large foamy microphones in different colors and it was clear that the two guys further from the camera were the ones doing most of the chatting. The other guy, the one closest to the camera was, instead of talking, resting his microphone between his upper lip and nose and staring at the other two guys, which was strange but not altogether notable. Then, this guy (the one in the foreground) looks directly downward, tips his nose to rest on his mic and snnnniiiiiiiiiiff, takes a big smell of his foamy green microphone! Even better was that neither of the other guys noticed and the sniffing noise was incredibly amplified by the mic itself. Holy. Moses. I haven't laughed that long in eons. Needless to say, my amigos and I watched the moment at least 10 times, laughing harder with each instant replay. I'm laughing just thinking about it. Ahhh....my day is looking up after all! What's your funny moment?!

Hate-Love#17: Gardening

Over the weekend I did something I never do: I gardened. Although my mother (pictured at left tending to her beautiful hydrangeas) has quite the green thumb and also holds the esteemed title of Master Gardener (no, seriously, it's a real thing!), I seem to have been born without the gene because I hate...

Gardening. Let's see...dirt under my fingernails, check. Grime, sun, and sunscreen creating a mudslide on my face, check. Every manner of insect buzzing about my head, check. Bags of worm casings, bat poop, egg shells, and ground up fish attacking my every sense, check, check, check, and check. Wait, remind me, why is fun again? I rest my case. Seriously though, there is nothing I would like to do less then spend my time on a beautiful day out wading in dirt. If I'm going to get dirty in the warm California sun it's going to involve a football, some beer, a bikini, and a lot of serious sun worshiping; not coveralls, cow poop, and a garden trowel. It is extremely hard to get a good tan in coveralls. Not only that, but once you plant all your pretty veggies and flowers there's even more work to be done, and I can barely remember to water the darn things! I think that this is largely because unlike my dog or my boyfriend, plants don't audibly complain when you don't take care of them. The squeaky wheel gets the oil in my house, so unless broccoli plants develop a distinctive cry when they need to be tended, I think I'm SOL. I tried having indoor plants in college; I even picked an ivy vine for my first foray into gardening because I figured, "It's a weed, how can I kill it?" Well, I did the impossible, I can't even keep naturally occurring pest plants alive; the ivy was dead within three months. Additionally, gardening is a never ending commitment; it requires hard work, dedication, and time, and since I'm already in a serious relationship, two just seems like a stretch (even for someone as enterprising as myself). If you don't keep at a garden it gets attacked by secret gopher squadrons, nibbled on by roaming deer, suffocated by invasive weeds, and crippled merely from lack of pruning; it just seems more like a war zone than a hobby.

at the same time, however, the end result of a garden is nothing short of a fruit and vegetable revelation which means that though I don't want to do the work of gardening I love...

Fresh Fruits and Veggies Straight from the Vine. Being in my mother's garden is like being in an enchanted forest: roses of every shade bloom everywhere, sunflowers greet each new day, broccoli of prehistoric sizes shoot from large planter boxes, tomatoes seem to ripen before your very eyes, and towering green bean stalks threaten to disappear into the clouds. Watching my mother in her garden is just as enchanting as the place itself: it's like watching an enthusiastic conductor with his orchestra: her plants seem to grow prolifically in her presence. Although I have seen this many times, I still don't particularly know what goes down in this magical garden behind the scenes, one moment I am watching mommy wend a tomato vine through its allocated trellis, and the next she will produce a fresh, perfect bean from nowhere, "Green Bean?" She will ask. And as I eagerly take the bean and pop it in my mouth, I think not only of how lucky I am to have such a horticulturaly inclined mother, but also how positively scrumptious a veggie plucked at the height of its readiness can be. It is at these moments that I wish that I had a garden like this: need a fresh pepper from for the evening's dinner? No problem, I will go pick one for the garden! Fancy some lettuce for a light lunch? Hold on a moment, let me flit into the garden and harvest some! When you love to incorporate fresh fruits and vegetables into your meals as much as I do, a garden at one's finger tips is a blessing almost too wonderful to imagine. So despite my hatred of getting dirty, or my previous inability to keep a plant alive long enough to produce edible food, fresh veggies or herbs in my own back-yard may be a luxury worth working for.

Hate-Love#16: HOT Weather

To the left is a photo of me trying not to expire as I fry in the California sun. Luckily, I was able to escape to the (far cooler) beach on this day, but normally I don't have the time to do so. Yesterday it was even too hot to type an entry into this blog!

I hate...

HOT weather. You know that kind of hot that means that even laying down doing nothing, you're sweating? Yeah, YUCK! I hate this kind of sweating not only because when it's that particular brand of hot I'm never wearing the proper sweat friendly attire, but also because it's too hot to even shower without becoming sweaty again not five minutes after you towel off. Most people would say, what's the big deal, it's the 21st century, turn on the damn air conditioning! Well, being a resident of the beautiful northern California area in which I reside, air conditioning seems to be reserved for movie theaters and retail stores, because few people have central air conditioning equipped homes. Here, we instead rely on the natural air conditioning more commonly known as fog, which I swear was much more effective until global warming showed up and turned Marin County's summer season into a giant festival of HOT. Additionally, I'm not made for the heat. I am decidedly a mix of all things European and white and thus tolerance for hot weather just isn't in my blood. I recently went camping with my boyfriend's family at a place that was so hot that I at one point swore that I was actually going to die. I sat down in a chair, and not wanting to make a big fuss in front of the family, decided that I would die quietly and hoped that someone would revive me in someplace air conditioned before it was too late. Well, I didn't die and no one had to revive me, but I think it's safe to say that camping in HOT weather is not an adventure worth repeating. Why can't someone invent an invisible air conditioning body suit? Honestly, is portable air conditioning too much to ask when my iPod pays my bills for me?

at the same time, however....

I love....

Swimming. There is nothing like swimming when the weather is crazy hot. Whether it's the pool, the ocean, a lake, a stream, whatever, there is nothing like dunking into a great big bucket of cool when the temperatures soar. In fact, many natural bodies of water require that it be extra specially hot just for you to consider getting in. Have you ever been in the Pacific Ocean round about San Francisco? It's cold enough to freeze your nipples clean off and often necessitates becoming numb to the crippling cold before you can fully get in. Even if it's not hot where you live right now, just imagine it...you're hot and sticky with the day's grime and the force of the heat all around you, but manage to squirm into a swimsuit and sit still long enough to let the sunscreen dry on your nose. The pool awaits like a shimmering oasis of relief, and as you plunge into the deep end and water rushes past your ears and shoots tiny bubbles over your scalp, that's all you can feel: relief. The hot day is suddenly but a distant memory as water shimmies down your spine and threatens the barrier of your bathing suit. You hover momentarily in the weightless world of aqua bliss before kicking to the surface and breaking into the sunlight that now glints off your face with abandon. Ahhhh...there's nothing like swimming on a hot day....

Hate-Love#15: (Bad) Rap Music

I just found out the tragic news that Reggae Rising will be cancelled for 2010. And though I'm not surprised considering their totally lackluster lineup this year, I still found myself going through old Reggae Rising photos from years past this morning. As I was reliving the glory, I somehow started thinking about rap music (which has little connection to reggae, so I'm not quite sure of the synapse rail line I took, but here I am) and how much I hate...

Bad Rap Music (or "Skank Music", as my Dad affectionately calls it). Haven't we heard enough about hos, bitches, bitch slapping, big d****, and bigger rims already? Isn't there anything more original that rappers can come up with than just new things to rhyme with drinking, money, and crazy sex? I mean, really. You may think I'm anti-rap, but I'm not. I don't listen to The Postal Service or Jane's Addiction (though there is nothing wrong with these either), reggae and rap are the rhythm to my life; I'm just so tired of hearing the same thing with different beats behind it. There are some original artists: I am as I have always been, madly in love with Snoop Dogg, Jay Z, the late 2Pac, and godfather of the Bay Area hyphy movement, MacDre. But the likes of Gucci Mayne and Lil' Wayne, save for the occasional song that's just too catchy to pass up, sound the same as every other rapper out there. Has the business made rappers so cookie cutter that they really have nothing novel to say, no new art to contribute to the musical community or the public at large? I think it's a sad day when a once new and altogether exciting musical format becomes so trite that one can't decide who it is that they're listening to anymore, but rather let it drone on as one looped beat of degradation and dreams of millions to be squandered the moment they're made.

though there may be artists out there that make my poor ears threaten to crap out entirely, there are still those that have me listening to their albums on repeat for weeks...

I love...

Snoop D-O Double G. Oh boy do I love the Dogg. weather he's letting loose with a voice synthesizer or waxing poetic about his wife and kids, I just love to hear that man get down with his bad self. How much I love Snoop as an artist doesn't even rely on his invention of an entirely new language in the early 2000's, or his avid use of Mary Jane: to me, Snoop epitomizes an artist's ability to grow and change without losing his following or respect. If given the chance to meet Snoop, I don't even know what I would do other than make a giant fool of myself, but would I leap out of my shoes at the chance to meet him anyway? Fo shizzle, my nizzle!

Hate-Love #14: Feelings

I'm sorry that I couldn't post yesterday, my boss is in town, so I don't have as much spare time to blog this week :(...but here's a new one!

I hate...

Feelings. Do you ever wish you could be a robot or a cyborg with no feelings? I do! When I think of how much easier dating, dealing with that bitchy co-worker, and arguing with family members could be without feelings, I can't help but wish to be the tin man rather than my own emotional self. Without emotions there are no tears and no heartbreak: if your date doesn't call you or your boyfriend (or girlfriend) says something nasty, there is no feeling of immense regret. Without feelings, break-ups are a cinch, the day your dog dies isn't the worst day of your life, saying goodbye doesn't make your heart hurt, and being stood up is just an opportunity to eat dinner by your wonderful self instead of going home and eating your weight in ice cream. When your parent doesn't come to your graduation, and it rains on your wedding day, you won't be sad, why? Because you have no feelings! Works for me. I have actually tried to feel less, be less sensitive, hold it all in, but to be honest I am epically terrible at it. I cry when I'm sad and jump for joy when I'm happy. I just can't help it, I'm a feeler.

however, without feelings there would be no L-O-V-E, love. and

I love...

LOVE. Being in love is one of the most heartbreakingly, soul quakingly, mind bendinly fabulous things I have ever felt. I just can't live without out it. Love breaks you down and builds you right back up. Love is a hairy roller-coaster that dips, twists, and speeds it's way through your body every moment of every day. Love makes all those other sucky emotions worth it. Love is being greeted by my absurdly adorable pitbull, Buju, every time I walk in the door, love is when my mother hugs me after a horrible day and tells me everything is going to be ok, and love is when my boyfriend walks me to my car because he knows I'm afraid of the dark, even though I don't like to admit it. Try as I might to live without these things, try as I may to will myself to be a paragon of calm and emotionlessnes, I cannot. I cannot live without love, as much as it may hurt sometimes to keep searching for it.

Hate-Love #13: Bed/Cover Hogs

To the left is my bed which reminds me not only of how much I wish I was home right now, but how much I hate...

Bed Hogs. Bed Hog, cover hog, both are deplorable traits in a sleeping partner. There is nothing worse than being yanked out of a dream when you're about to defeat the evil emperor Zorg because all of a sudden you're FREEZING, only to realize it's because your partner is wrapped up in your comforter like a burrito. Similarly awful is waking up after a horrible nightmare where you're trapped in some killer's trunk only to find that you HAVE in fact been trapped...in the upper corner of your bed because your one and only decided that diagonal sleeping was the way to go that night. Furthermore, these issues aren't immediately fixable for a small person like me: trying to wrestle the covers from the 180 lb. gorilla that sleeps next to me is like trying to pry baked cheese splatter from the roof of the microwave with my finger-nails, and moving him when he's hogging the bed? I would have better luck herding a cow with chopsticks. Why is it that in a bed or cover hogging situation the offending party absolutely refuses to wake up no matter how much you poke, prod, or kick them? It must be some sort of amazing phenomenon for hoggers everywhere that each one is not only happily using more than their fair share of sleeping resources, but also sublimely unaware that they're doing it! I don't know about you, but I need my sleep. Without proper sleep I'm a walking stick of TNT that swears like a sailor and has a very short fuse. I'm also an exponentially more horrible driver (if that's even possible) when I'm tired, and have a troubling track record of hitting inanimate objects when operating on less then 5 hours of solid snooze time: it's just not safe!

at the same time, however...

I love...

Sleeping with someone else in the bed. I should get a t-shirt that says "sleeps well with others" because really, bed hoggers aside, I sleep far better with someone else than alone. I'm not saying I like to sleep around, or even that I require any sort of snuggle action during my dream cycle. In fact, my present bed-mate excluded, I would prefer that there be no touching at all; an extra person just has to be physically there. I think this preference comes from my intense fear of the dark, and thus I feel that a bed buddy would either protect me, confirm the presence of something strange or unsafe in the room, and/or act as a body shield in case of emergency. At the very least, someone else in the bed can be pushed out from the warmth and protection of the covers to "investigate" strange noises or creaking on the deck. I don't even need this other person to be male, this person could be female as well, though should preferably be rather large so that I can effectively cower behind him or her in a shootout (you know, because that happens to me allll the time). And those are just the perks of sleeping in the same bed as someone you aren't dating. Sleeping with someone you're dating, physical intimacy aside, is like sleeping on a cloud of rainbows and fairy dust. There really is nothing better than climbing into bed after a long day and cuddling up to my sweetheart as I drift off to the safety of dreamy dreamy land; as opposed to hiding under the covers by myself as I attempt not only warm my icicle feet but also protect myself from possible intruders with my magic blanket shield (if you can't see them, they can't see you...right?).

Hate-Love #12

I know, I know, I haven't been posting, bad blogger! Well, naturally, I have an excuse...

I hate...

Uploading photos. Gone are the days when one can take a photo and just hope it's a good one, finally haul yourself to Walgreens to drop off the ten rolls of film you took on your trip to Europe last June, and then pick them up only to put them in a box marked with something along the lines of, "album photos" that will never actually make it to an album. Now, we take a photo, check out if we look awesome enough, and then upload, download, Photoshop, e-mail, tag, print, or post said awesome photos to our myriad social networks full of people that most likely won't really care about them. No doubt, digital photos are a far easier way to share your Kodak moments with the world, and in this day in age there is no way I could part from my digital DSLR camera, but I really miss dropping off my film and anxiously waiting to see what I get back. When I upload my own photos, not only do I have to spend the time organizing them into folders, adjusting the lighting, and uploading them to Facebook so that I can continue to pretend that my "friends" will actually care about them, I also have to back them up on my iPod just in case my computer has another epic freak-out sesh (which happens waaay more often then, say, a fire which is the old school way of losing all your photos). It's kind of exhausting, and since I'm on the computer all the live long day anyway, the last thing I want to do when I get home is pop open my laptop and start a mad photo blitz.

at the same time...

I love...

That we have the technology even available to "upload photos". If I really think about, digital photos are a pretty freakin' amazing bit of technology. I traveled to Thailand for three months in 2008, and digital photography along with the social networking powerhouse, Facebook, allowed me to keep my friends and family back home updated on all my crazy adventures (and my mom to comment on EVERY SINGLE photo) with just a few mouse clicks and about 30 extra minutes every day. Pretty neat, right? I mean, the fact that we even have this kind of technology is pretty astounding. Remember when we didn't have digital photos? Sharing photos was soooo much more difficult! Someone would say, "Hey, you know those photos we took in wine country, can I have copies of those?" And then you would have to either go and pay to get more photos made from your negatives (which really wasn't cheap), or just blow the person off completely, which I think is that most everyone did when friends asked for photo doubles. I also have to admit that though I kind of miss film, I would be shocked by someone who has yet to embrace digital. In fact, a friend recently asked me for hard copies of some photos I took, and I seriously almost told her to shove it (but decided just to ignore her instead). Considering my friend's request in light of all the awesome digital technology that's now available, she may not even be my friend anymore, on Facebook or otherwise! So I guess, even though I hate having to upload photos the alternative is much, much worse.

Camping for 4th of July

I will be camping for the 4th of July holiday, so no internet and no posts. Boo. But take heart, I will be camping with my boyfriend and his extended family, so I'm sure I will have PLENTY of annoying things (and how I got past them) to share with you when I get back. Happy 4th!

Hate-Love # 11: Tipping

I hate...

Feeling obligated to tip at a takeout restaurant. It's not that I hate tipping. I certainly don't mind forking over the extra cash for a server or aesthetician if they have provided excellent service, but what's with the tip line on the receipt at places like Hi-Tech Burrito, and the dirty look you get if you don't write anything there? Isn't that why one goes to a take out place, to avoid that extra 20% you have to pay for the pleasure of being served at a table? Furthermore I thought that tipping is supposed to optional, and I don't appreciate the feeling that I'm going to get a loogie topping on my food if I don't.

at the same time...

I love...

Take-out food. Here in Marin we aren't limited to the greasy, fried take-out that so many are subjected to; here take-out can be just as healthy, organic, and homemade tasting as if you just pulled it off the stove yourself. The other fabulous thing about take-out are the available dishes that I wouldn't actually want to cook but still harbor a hearty craving for now and again. Do I love slow cooked Kalua Pork? YES! But I certainly don't want to go through all the trouble of slow cooking a whole pig to make it. Thus my friends at places like Sol Food, Whole Foods, Mauna Loa Hawaiian BBQ, and Cafe Gratitude (see my reviews on Yelp!) occasionally help me out by providing a lovely dinner (and leftover lunch the next day) with none of the hassle and fuss. So even though the tip line may bother me, I just can't beat a vegan sunshine burger and home brewed kombucha on a hot day, or a spicy pollo platter to share with my sweetheart that I didn't have to make myself.

Hate-Love #10: Ah-ha, the silver lining!

Last night I had the great pleasure of having a girls night with one of my favorite people: my Mom (pictured with me at left)! Our first stop on the agenda was yoga and though were running a bit behind, we still got there in time for the warm up. As we hurried into the building another yogini was also coming in, though she seemed to be in a much greater hurry than we were. While my mom and I checked in at the front desk, went to the restroom, and deposited our shoes in a cubby, the woman was still whirling about in a tizzy, and as she left the lockers said, "So I guess you guys don't care about being late, huh?" as she flew into the studio. I, of course, ignored her so that I wouldn't say, "Mind your own beeswax, ho." back to her as we crossed into the sacred yoga space, but instead said quietly to my mom, "Really?" My mom simply replied, "Oh, I don't think she meant it that condescendingly, it probably came out wrong." I looked back at her sceptically, but it instantly got me thinking. You see, my Mom, being the eternal optimist that she is, likes to see the good in people. My Mom, like so few people these days, strongly beleives that though people may act oblivious, rude, or annoying, they probably have no idea they're doing it, and deserve the benefit of the doubt. Of course, this brought to mind my post from yesterday, and the silver lining, or the "love" that I couldn't seem to find. When did I become so cynical about other people? Even though there are those that may waste my time, or annoy me in the check-out line, they probably have no intention of doing so. When I think about it, I am probably guilty of this myself: sometimes I get so wrapped up in my own thoughts that I become completely oblivious to the people around me, the fact that I have parked my shopping cart smack in the middle of the isle, or that my gas has been finished pumping for the last five minutes while I twirled my hair and thought about how warm the pool at my apartment complex will be that afternoon. Thus, I'm going to amend my post from yesterday and say that I love...

That from now on I will try to cut people a little slack and realize that they're sole purpose probably isn't to make me want to tear my hair out. My mother is, as usual, right: it's far better to believe that all people are generally good and to give them the benefit of the doubt, even when they act rudely or entitled. After all, wouldn't you want someone to do the same for you?

Hate-Love #10: Wasting Time

I hate, hate, hate, hate, HATE...

When people waste my time. Today, I had to visit one of my least favorite places, that infinite money suck called a "gas station". I pulled up behind a truck and a small car that were already parked, so I figured that they would pull forward fairly quickly and I would be able to drive up, pump gas, and be on my merry way as usual. WRONG. The truck directly in front of me had two guys in it and while one guy went to the restroom, the other proceeded to just stand there and stare at the gas pump as if willing it to do the job itself; the pair didn't start actually filling up their car until the guy in the restroom returned. Really? But, ok, fine, I will let it go. When the two men, only one of which has the brain power to pump gas, are done filling up, I get ready to pull forward. Wong again! The woman driving the small ugly vehicle parked in front of the truck is now actually WASHING her car with the windshield squeegee. No, I'm not kidding. So while the truck and I wait for her to painstakingly wash her entire car with nothing but a sponge on a stick and a paper towel, I make the awful realization that she hasn't even filled up her car yet! All profanities stream from my mouth silently while I waste an entire 20 minutes of my lunch break waiting to get to the gas pump. I mean, seriously, lady? WHAT ARE YOU THINKING? And these epic time wasters aren't just lurking at the gas station: they are in line at the grocery store having 15 minute conversations about their amazing trip to Mexico with the checkout guy after they have already been rung up, they're at the GAP spending 10 minutes just corralling their screaming rug-rats before they can finally dig their wallets from their overstuffed, over-sized purses, they're going pee with 40 of their girlfriends in only available stall, they're taking their sweet time to execute the simplest left hand turn so that you have to slow to a halt just so you won't smack into them as they tentatively pause before finally deciding that that seemingly normal left hand turn is definitely safe. THEY ARE EVERYWHERE! Isn't life just dandy for these people who have no need for that silly thing called time, and can dilly dally around as their heart so pleases. Yeah, just dandy. I on the other hand, do not have this kind of time. I have a job to go back to, floors to clean, dinner to cook, a dog to walk, friends to hang out with, laundry to do, and deadlines to make. I don't have time to be futzing around running the day's errands. So seriously people, look behind you when you're taking your sweet time in line. If you see a girl looking at you like fire is about to spew from her eyes, that's me! Nice to meet you! Now, get out of my way!

As steaming angry as this all makes me...

I love...

Unicorns. I have spent all day trying to come up with a silver lining to this, something that will make me feel less like braking people's fingers and more like skipping down the sidewalk, but I can't think of one! The only possible silver lining is when the grocery store checker realizes how frustrating the woman taking 10 whole minutes to write one check has made you and gives you the flowers you were buying yourself for free. Mostly, however, the only thing I can do to is try to think of rainbows and puppies (like my cutie pie pictured above) and unicorns and just try to forget about it. Grrrrrr.

Hate-Love #9: The Crack Berry

I hate...

People who spend more than half their lives, and 3/4 of the time you personally spend with them, glued to their iPhones or BlackBerrys. It's an epidemic! If I am not mistaken, Apple has already sold 600,000 new iPhone's since the fabulous new iPhone 4 made it's debut. 600,000! That means that there will be 600,000 more people that won't be able to properly function for MONTHS because they will be so enamored with their new toy that they won't be able to peel their eyes or fingers away even to pee. I'm not kidding. When my boyfriend got his iPhone (he is still cursed with the original iPhone, Wah!) he was so busy threaded texting, facebooking, beating other cyborgs at taptap jungle, e-mailing, and checking our exact location moment to moment that he couldn't pry himself away long enough to have dinner with me, much less carry on a conversation. Thank goodness this behavior (somewhat) quickly subsided, but I still can't say that my bf and his iPhone are ever apart for long (though now it lives in his pocket rather than glued to his finger tips). Unfortunately, however, some people are never cured of this malady. Judging from how people drive around here I would say that few people can even take their eyes of their CrackBerry long enough to properly operate their cars. How did this happen? I mean, I know that this technology is neat but do three people in our five person party need to be texting other people or checking their twitter accounts during happy hour? What is happening that is SO DARN interesting? The fact that your best girl just went to a fabulous spa, that your mom found the perfect boots, or that your favorite sports team just hired a new head coach is not urgent enough that you MUST know exactly when it happens. Look up from the screen for 5 minutes and realize that there's a whole world beyond the one on your iPhone, people! There are friends to be found that aren't your "friends" on facebook, experiences to have that you can't download from the app store, and memories to make that don't immediately need to be posted to mySpace.

then again...

I love...

My iPod. I admit it, I LOVE my iPod ( pictured above with a pink cover -duh!) and though I make a conscious effort to avoid being on it all the time, it's tough not to be. Luckily, my iPod is not a phone and thus lacks the coveted 3G coverage, so I can't actually be glued to it constantly, but if the option of 3G for iPod were available, I don't think I could turn it down. My iPod plays music and video in crisp perfection, tracks my bills, does my banking, updates me on the weather, downloads my e-mail, stores yoga flows I create myself, creates shopping lists, and helps me manage my Twitter, Facebook, and Yelp accounts. Seriously, this thing is AMAZING; I wouldn't be all that surprised if it sprouted arms and started mopping the floor and folding my laundry. Though I say to myself that I don't want an iPhone, that I would become one of those annoying people that stays glued to it at all times, and that furthermore it's far to costly, I can't deny that the a built in camera, mobile gps, and a cell phone being part of the already superb iPod package are a HUGE draw. Even though it sucks when all my friends are on their super cool cellular devices, and I want them to cut it the f*** out already, deep down I really wish I could join the party. But...I won't. I will keep fighting the good fight against people stricken with the CrackBerry curse. I will say, however, that if someone were to buy me an iPhone, I'm not sure I'd have the will power enough to resist. After all, it's an epidemic! And something tells me I could catch it.

Hate-Love #8: The Color Orange

I admit it, I admit it, I was just too fried on Friday to post ANYTHING, so here's a little one for Friday...

I hate...

The color orange. Orange is just such a garish color. When one thinks of orange it conjures up images of parking cones, construction signs, ugly safety jackets, life vests, and orange prison jumpsuits; none of which are chic, fun, or even soothing. Who wants to wear a color that reminds them of what convicts are forced to wear in jail? I certainly don't. The pretty orange California Poppy might have saved the color, but you can't even pick it, it's illegal! Oranges are orange, and though they are a yummy fruit, I absolutely HATE peeling them because they get all that oily orange crud all over your hands, and has anyone checked the sugar content of orange juice lately? It's through the roof! Isn't juice supposed to be both tasty and healthy? See, even orange fruits make some mighty tricky juice. Carrots are orange, and those are crunchy and make a great snack, but you have to peal them with a special tool and eat too many and you'll actually turn the color orange, like a perma prison jumpsuit. Pumpkins are orange, and how delicious is pumpkin soup and pumpkin bread? Mmmmm. But then again, there's so much preparation required to turn that pumpkin into delicious soup that I avoid it all but maybe once per year. Finally, we have only to look at Lindsay Lohan to know how awful those spray-on tans make people look: oompa loompa style orange skin isn't flattering on ANYONE, not even Lindsay and her (most likely fake) boobies.

Since I can't think of anything orange that I truly L-O-V-E, I will tell you what color I do love...

I love...

The color PINK! I really can't explain to you how much I love the color pink. Pretty much, if it's pink, I will like it. Just take this gorgeous pink peony pictured above; it's so pretty that I could just gaze at it all day. When there are pink flowers in the house I sometimes find myself staring at them and heaving a great smiley sigh because they just make me THAT happy. Pink clothes are fun and flirty, pink sunsets are magical, pink watermelon tastes probably how the clouds in heaven taste, pink bicycles make me giggle and want to ride around the neighborhood like a school girl, and rosy pink flushed cheeks mean I have just been on a long and glorious run, been kissed by my sweetheart, or just frolicked in the ocean waves in summer. Even the best cottage cheese in the world (Knudsen's lowfat cottage cheese) has a pink label! Pink, pink, pink! It's such a fun and happy color, how can you help but absolutely love it?!

Hate-Love #7: Restaurant Etiquette

This post comes to you from some recent dining out experiences. The picture on the left is of my family at a lovely restaurant in San Luis Obispo, and even though it was a lovely evening...

I hate...

When a server clears the plates off the table before everyone is finished eating. Call me crazy, but I absolutely can't stand when a server takes my plate before my partner is done eating or takes everyone's plate when one person is still finishing up their meal. I find it incredibly rude. I think this gesture not only says, "We are rushing you out of the restaurant because it looks like your party is almost done and we would really like to turn your table again before the night is through." but also, "We sort of care about your dining experience, but certainly not as much as we care about making more money tonight." In addition, it sends the message to the person who is enjoying a longer meal that everyone else at the table is done, so you better hurry up before A. everyone else gets impatient, and B. they snatch you plate away too. I just hate that! I don't go to a restaurant to shove food down my throat at a blistering pace before running off the the next event, I go to a restaurant to enjoy myself and the company I am with at whatever languid pace we so choose. Even if it looks like I'm done with my meal, perhaps I'm not. Perhaps I am sitting back to let the glorious mixture of flavors settle in my stomach before I begin licking my plate. Perhaps it looks like I'm done, but I fully intend on savoring that orange wedge garnish in roughly five minutes, which taking my plate early would completely rob me of.

Despite this pet peeve of mine, however....

I love...

Dining out. Anyone who is the primary cook for their household like I am knows that dining out at a nice restaurant is a welcome respite from your daily routine. When you eat out (even if they clear the plates too early) you get the special privilege of being served, instead of serving others. When you dine out, you don't have to set the table, and if the food isn't on par, you aren't the chef everyone complains to. When you're at a restaurant, the TV isn't on, nice music is often playing, you get more options than just, "whatever is in the freezer", and the dog isn't whining to come back in from the deck. Also, dining out means that when you get home, the kitchen doesn't look like a time bomb just went off inside it, but rather is just as pristine as you left it and will stay that way until when next you need to cook. Possibly the most enjoyable thing about eating out, however, is the "doggy bag" you get to bring home and put in your fridge for an easy and delicious lunch the next day, that is unless of course, your boyfriend eats it before lunch even rolls around and you have to cook all over again. Shoot.

Hate-Love #6: Car Loans

I hate...

Paying my car loan every month. It's that time of the month again, yes, time to pay all your bills. Obviously, no one actually likes paying bills, no one says "whoppie!" when all they get in the mail is a seemingly endless stream of letters from money collectors, but I hold out a particular hatred for the one I have to pay to the Lexus dealership every month. I don't have it as bad as most: my car payments are very low, as I bought my 2002 Lexus IS300 used, and I only have another three years until it's all paid off, but still, it's the principle of the thing. Even though I'm fully aware that I alone made the decision to finance the purchase of my vehicle, the bill every month is a constant reminder of how much of a moron I feel like for having done it. Even though I love my Lexus (pictured above), the logical side of me sees what a stupid thing financing a car can be. First, financing means that you have the obvious downside of having to pay more than the sticker price overtime, which sucks right off the bat. Second, you have the fact that you now own something that you paid a significant amount of money for that will only decrease in value over time. In fact, a car is really just a giant money suck: between insurance, DMV fees, tickets (parking or otherwise), gas, maintenance, and fixing the inevitable mechanical failures, you end up coughing up more "scrill" after you purchase the car then the day you actually bought it! It's ludicrous! And because the state of public transit (where I live) is abysmal at best, you have almost no choice but to own a car unless you plan on bumming rides from your already over-shecduled friends, or only living within the confines of however far you're willing to walk or ride your bike (and good luck with THAT in a county that has more hills, valleys, and windy roads than the Ho Chi Minh Trail).

but all the same...

I love...

Fixing my car. I may be a girl, but my Daddy still thought it very important to teach me basic car maintenance: I know how to check and change all the fluids, fix a flat, rotate the tires, and properly detail everything from the wheels to the dashboard. Now, I'm no mechanic, I still think oil is "ickey", and I let my boyfriend do all the work on my car when he offers (which he always does, "Thank you, love!"), but I still like knowing that if need be, I can roll up my sleeves, jack up the car, grab a Chilton's manual from Kragen, and do what's got to be done. There's a special satisfaction that comes with driving a car that you waxed by hand, or just bled and replenished the coolant system: you know beyond a shadow of a doubt that your car runs smoothly and shines like a well oiled body builder because you did the work yourself. In addition, working on your own car creates a strange yet palpable bond between car and driver that can only be created when you spend time on your back having oil leaked onto your face, or scrubbing transmission fluid from under your finger nails. There's just nothing better than buckling in after you've just "fixed" your car, detailed it inside and out, and bought a full tank of gas: you feel like the world is your oyster, like you could go anywhere or do anything. Hell, you could just drive until you run out of gas and see where you end up: VROOM! I'm unstoppable! Oh...wait....I told my boyfriend that I would go pick up milk at the grocery store...damn.

Hate-Love #5: Flossing

I hate...

Flossing. As if my nightly post-shower routine isn't long enough between lotioning up, un-knotting my hair, brushing my teeth, and gargling with Listerine, I have to floss now too?? I used to use those awesome little pre-made dental floss picks (like the ones on the left), but after learning from my dentist that they're only 80% effective, I have returned to strangling my poor fingers nightly with regular floss. I guess the complaint about any flossing aid is that it holds the floss in a straight line, which doesn't allow you to wrap the floss around the tooth as you torture your gums; making it less effective than manual flossing. Seriously though, shouldn't the geniuses behind Sonicare have solved this problem already? It's 2010 for crying out loud, my musical listening devise creates shopping lists from my favorite recipes, tracks my bills and personal events, fills my prescriptions, and finds the best local burrito joint, and I'm still flossing manually? Maybe we need to get Steve Jobs in on this one, then we can finally get a 97% effective electronic flosser that tracks plaque buildup, schedules dental cleanings, and provides colorful instant photos of the bacteria we're killing while we floss. And it's not just cutting off the circulation to my finger tips or the added step in my routine that bugs me: it's also how expensive floss is, and that I hate getting that gunk from in between my teeth all over my fingers, YUCK!

but being that there is no iFloss gadget for me to rush out and pre-order yet...

I love...

That I know the actual reason why everyone MUST floss every night. Yeah, yeah, we all know, we're supposed to floss every day so that our teeth don't just just fall clean out of our heads by the time we're 65, and no one thinks dentures are sexy, but I think it's safe to say that people don't floss as much as they should. Up until about a month ago I didn't floss regularly either, why? Because I would go to the dentist and besides trying to carrying on a conversation with me while he stuck large metal objects inside my mouth, he would always say: "Everything looks good int there." And I would think to myself the same thing that everyone else does, "Ha-ha! Little does he know that I rarely floss! I must have super evolved teeth that don't actually need flossing!" Well, I have news for you, there's no such thing. Up until I met the amazing Dr. Alexander Farr, I thought I had super-evolved, no-floss teeth just like you probably do, but Dr. Farr gave me a dose of reality too powerful to ignore. So without trying to sound to public service announcement-y, here's the gum gospel according to Dr. Farr: first of all, gum disease doesn't set in until you're 35, so really your gum health isn't a problem until you wake up on your 35th birthday and it's REALLY a problem (read: floss now, avoid gum disease on your 35th birthday). Also, as it turns out, the reason for flossing isn't to get thoe pesky bits of food from between your teeth that brushing doesn't grab (although this is an added bonus), the reason is to "shake up" the colonies of bacteria that like to form in the warm dark place below your gum-line. These colonies of bad bacteria like to party in large groups between your teeth and gums and do what everyone likes to do at a party: eat, have lots of sex (to make more bacteria), and spew waste everywhere. As the groups of bacteria rock out together, the party just gets bigger and bigger until there are so many that our white blood cells have to muscle in and break things up. The problem, however, with white blood cells coming in to regulate and eat up the bad bacteria is that eventually they, well, burst. And when the white cells burst they don't just fade into gummy oblivion, they release an acid so gnarly that it dissolves away the ever so important bones that hold your teeth in your skull. As your bones dissolve, your gums retreat along with them, until eventually your teeth fall out. Sounds fun, right? Well, you can prevent this cycle of bacterial party carnage by, yes, you guessed it, FLOSSING! When you effectively floss, you break up the clusters of bacteria under your gum line, stopping all that bacterial reproduction along with the need for bursting, bone eating white blood cells. YEAH! So even though I hate flossing, I love my pearly whites and want to have them until I die from choking on a New York Strip steak at 110. I also love being able to wax poetic about my new flossing knowledge, and I feel that my spiel would be far less effective with dentures.

Hate -Love #4: Baking

I hate....

Baking. I can't quite put my finger on what it is about baking that I hate so much, but every time I consider it, a feeling of dread immediately washes over me. It's not that I'm bad at baking, I'm actually pretty good at it, but in a rare turn of events, baking is one of my strengths and still something I hate to do. Furthermore, I LOVE to cook, so the fact that I hate to bake has nothing to do with a special fear of my kitchen: I have no particular qualms about spending time hovering over my cooking appliances. Perhaps I don't like baking because of the way flour, like sand, gets EVERYWHERE, and inevitably turns into an immovable, cement-like paste that not only sticks to everything, but also infiltrates and ruins whatever sponge is used to try and remove said paste. The rule in my house is that when you cook for the other person (which I do almost every night) you don't have to clean, which makes cooking that much more enjoyable, but that rule goes right out the window when I bake. When I bake I am almost always either baking a gift for someone not in our household, a birthday cake, or a breakfast bread (like the one above) for myself. Because of this, baking means I lose the services of my chief dishwasher, leaving yours truly not only to re-paint the kitchen with cookie batter but also to have to clean the sticky, ooey-gooey mess all by my lonesome. Wah. yes, I know. Finally, baking means that I will most likely have baked goods around the house, and since they will probably be good, I will probably eat them, and then POOF before you know it, my poor boyfriend will have to wedge me into my jeans with a crow bar before I leave the house every day. So, naturally, I want to avoid THAT.

When I get over all these things, however,

I love...

The immense satisfaction that comes with giving someone something you baked yourself just for them. Giving someone home baked goodies is like giving them a little piece of your heart: even when you hate baking as much as I do, you can't help baking someone something yummy with lots of love, and people know that. When you bake someone something, they know that you didn't just go to the store and say, "Ok it's ____ holiday, what junk can I buy that ____ will like?" When you bake, however, the person on the receiving end knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that you went through the trouble not only to pick out a recipe, and buy all the stuff you need to whip up whatever confection you've chosen, but also through the painstaking process of chopping, mixing, whipping, pouring, buttering, melting, and drizzling that baking requires. That's not to say that there aren't wonderful gifts that you can buy in a store, but baking is unquestionably a labor of love. Nothing beats a homemade birthday cake (or birthday pie in the case of the pie in the picture above that my amazing mother made me for my 22nd birthday), or your favorite cookies made just for you (like the ones I made for my Dad for father's day this past weekend). So though baking may suck, the end result- totally worth it!

Hate - Love #3: Sobriety

I hate....

Being the only sober person at a party. That's me in the center of the photo, with two of my semi intoxicated homies. To be honest I'm a really sucky drunk, so I try not to go past the one drink minimum I have set for myself when I'm out. But I have to say, it kinda SUCKS. As everyone gets drunker, I just become more aware of how sober I am, and how much I kinda wish that I was at home in my PJs. When you're drunk, it's fun to be out with other inebriated individuals so that you can all act semi stupidly together with the hope that everyone will only remember how much fun you all had rather than how ridiculous you all looked doing it. If you are sober, however, you become acutely aware of how little you actually have to say to people unless you're trying to hook up with them, how sticky the floor is, how rude the bar tenders are, and "gosh, isn't it late? It feels really late?" (until you check your watch and realize the even more sobering thought that it's only 11pm). On top of that, if you're a girl, wearing high heels blows unless you're drunk enough to forget that you even have feet, and I don't know about you but parting with my high heels is paramount to losing my dog or a really awesome friend.

on the other hand...

I LOVE....

Waking up after a night out and NOT being hung over. What an awesome feeling to wake up after being out with your buddies all night secure in the feeling that you didn't say or do anything stupid, black out, or embarrass yourself more than you normally would. Waking up feeling rested without a headache, regrets, or crippling dehydration is an amazing thing. While my friends all recover from the previous night's debauchery, I'm running with my dog, updating my blog, calling my grandmother, and enjoying fresh baked pastries from the local bakery for breakfast. Not only that, but when I don't drink, I don't have garbage bags protruding from underneath my eyes for the rest of the day, my skin is clear, and when I sweat it doesn't smell like a distillery. All in all, I think the positives may outweigh the negatives here. So here's to it: I love having a soberer night to have a more fabulous tomorrow!

Hate-Love #2: Dog Breeds

I hate...

...When people assume that all dogs of one kind of breed are "bad dogs". I ascribe to the idea that there is no such thing as bad or evil dogs, just bad owners. Yes, some dogs are far more powerful then others (like Dobermans, Pitbulls, and Rottweilers) so if they do bite they pack quite a harmful punch, but that doesn't automatically mean they're going to chew your leg off, eat your child, or go for your Labradoodle's jugular. No breed is exempt from turning out a "bad dog": I have seen a Labrador, a breed many consider to be a docile family breed, attack my own puppy as he ran for cover, and he's got the scar to prove it. I have met many wonderful Pitbulls, Dobermans, Terriers, Labradors, etc. and many not so wonderful versions of of these breeds as well, and they all had one thing in common: owners. The "bad dogs" had inattentive owners who didn't understand either how to train their animal or what the needs of their specific breed are in order to provide proper care. The "good dogs" all had kind, attentive owners who clearly understood their dog, his or her specific needs, and how to enforce proper behavior. I hate that these stereotypes abound, and that because they do, breeds with wonderful members, like Pitbulls, get such a bad rap. I hate that people cross the street when they see my dog and I walking toward them, that I have been yelled out of the dog park for no reason other than the breed of my dog, and that people feel the need to give me unsolicited and misguided advice like, "Well, he should really wear a muzzle at all times." Again, just because of his breed.

but then again....

I love...

...That my amazing Pitbull, Buju, proves the skeptics wrong every time. Buju (pictured above) is just about as sweet as it gets. He is fiercely loyal, loves to play with big and small dogs alike (he's a hit at daycare!) and lives for attention from, well, anyone (he once got in someone else's car because he wanted to play with their dog; he just hopped right on in and sat down, like, "Ok, I'm ready, let's go to your house and play!"). He loves children, I'm guessing largely because they usually have food on their faces and hands for him to lick off. He likes to be tucked in at night, and no, I'm not kidding, he just really likes to be warm. He's been bitten, scratched, and barked at by other dogs, though he would never return the favor: his usual reaction is to look at the other dog confused, and then run away. He likes cats. He doesn't bark. He's extremely obedient and gentle, except when he gets hold of one of my shoes :(. Pull his ears, take things out of his mouth, kiss him, hug him, play tug of war with him, he loves and handles it all with a big doggy smile on his face. So take that, people who think all Pitbulls are evil killers, I have at least one that defies the stereotype, and know many others who do as well. Hating an entire breed is like hating an entire race, it's ridiculous, closed minded, and just plain mean. Open your hearts to all the wonderful puppies of the world!

Hate-Love #1: Driving

I hate...

...Driving. It's boring, there's nothing to do but stare at a most usually unremarkable stretch of highway, and to top it all off, California drivers are some of the worst in the nation. Mostly, I hate driving because I'm terrible at it, and I'm terrible at it because I'm so uninterested in driving that I can't pay attention even while I'm doing it. Amazingly, I think other Californians suffer from similar, albeit worse, driving maladies than mine. I honestly don't know how many of the people here got their licenses to begin with, much less still have them. My lunch break from work is often disrupted by some entitled moron cutting me off and then having the nerve to flip me the bird because I was obviously in his way (read: sarcasm)! I often wish that I had a paintball gun mounted to the hood of my car with some sort of offensively colored orange paint (we will discuss the garishness of orange later) loaded into it so I could effectively display my distaste for my fellow driver's skills (or lack there of).

but when I really think about it...

I love...

That compared with all the awful California drivers out there, I don't look nearly as bad as I could. Seriously, if I lived somewhere like Connecticut, where I assume that the drivers are far more attentive and polite, they probably would have labeled me a hazard to public safety and thrown me out of the state altogether. I have been pulled over for driving with my headlights off at night no less then three times (and, no, I wasn't drunk), and just recently totaled my adorable Honda Civic because I was so busy staring at a really shiny art car stalled in the middle of the road that I smashed headlong into the (thankfully very sturdy) Subaru in front of me. I know, such idiocy takes practice, and I have been practicing terrible driving for many years now: I even nailed down the "worst driver" superlative in my Senior year of high school to kick off my dazzling driving career. I can't even tell you, however, how many California drivers are far worse: three of my close friends have lost their licenses from too many tickets in the past year alone! So, I love you untalented California drivers, for making me look less awful at driving than I really am.