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.