I want you to relax. Take a deep breath and count to ten. That's good" let it out. I want you to push in all of that anger; all of that hate. That's right. Push it in. Now I want you to channel it into the pages of the Famous Hate List. Good, good, we're making progress. Okay everybody, take a deep breath and let the hate fill you.

MINE:

Answering Annie: Ring" ring" ring" ring" "Hello! And welcome to Verizon voice information processing. The customer you are calling is either not available, has turned off their phone or is purposely ignoring you. Please choose from our automated menu to continue. Press 1 if you would like to hear this message in Spanish, para Espaniol. Press 2 if you would like to leave a callback number. Press 3 if you would like to hang up. Press 4 if you would like to press 4. Press 5 if you would like to leave a voice message. Press 6 if you would like to beat me with an iron bar." "6". I do not think anyone on this planet angers me more than the lady that reads the voicemail instructions. Honestly, how dumb are we? Do we really need a 3 minute guide to say to our friend, "Hey dude, it's Street. Call me." Leaving the message takes 1/375th as long as the instructions. Lady, if you could only hear the things I say to you while you're telling me that if I'd like to send a picture to my friend I should press 8, you'd hear me say" I Hate You!

Stubborn Sam: The bar is packed with sweaty coeds. You have two full drinks in your hands as you try to make your way back to your friend who is stranded on the other side of the room. Everyone moves aside as you say "excuse me" in a polite manner except stubborn Sam. No, he's not moving for anyone. You try to be nice and say, "'scuse me man, just gotta sneak by ya." But he pretends not to hear. You get a little more corse, "Hey, can I get by?" Poor guy, he must be deaf because he isn't moving an inch. Finally, not able to stand the freezing V-and-T in your hand anymore, you put your shoulder down and try to squeeze by and then you get a reaction. He turns around and looks at you like you just ran over his dog. He'll probably say something like, "You got a problem?" Yeah, I do. You won't move your designer-pants-covered ass out of the way. Your five foot three, 113 Lbs and have more gel in your hair than all of Staten Island where as I am six foot two, 235 Lbs and carry two potentially deadly weapons in my hands. I could have just run you down, but I didn't. I was trying to be nice, I was trying to be cordial, but you couldn't suck up your macho pride to move your body 2 inches to the left. It's okay though, I know you wont swing at me because you're not that stupid and I know that I'll have the satisfaction while I watch you dance by yourself. Maybe you should try that not moving trick next time you cross a busy intersection" I Hate You!

Otherwise Occupied: Last night I went to a movie. I had bought my ticket the night before because I figured Fahrenheit 9/11 would sell out. It did and I was right about something for the fourth time this week. The only problem was I didn't know which screen the movie was playing on. So I went to the help desk and asked the lady "Hey, could you tell me where 9/11 is playing?" She replied, "No he didn't" Oh, girl you gotta set him straight." Hmmm, that's a funny answer. It took me a minute to realize she was talking on her earpiece cell phone and completely ignoring me. I thrust the ticket in her face again and asked the same question. She waved my hand off, getting back to her pressing business. Hey, you fat bitch, I'm sure Lowes Cinemas would be thrilled to hear that you spend your working hours talking to your fat bitch friends on your phone. Hell, that's what they hired you for, isn't it? What's that? No? Oh I see, they hired you to answer my questions but that is obviously too much to ask of you. God forbid you would have to take 2 seconds away from your important phone call to say "Theater 9." I wouldn't want to inconvenience you like that, you piece of shit. If I got paid to talk on the phone, I'd be a millionaire. So take your job and shove it up your fat ass, you should be shot" I Hate You!

YOURS:

Reader Janice S. really hates: The Department Store Dictator- I just hate when I go into a fancy department store, like Sax's and the salesperson acts like she's has zillions of shares of Microsoft®, owns Harrod's and thinks she has looks of Catharine Zeta Jones. This auto-bitch, who has obviously condescended to have taken this job out of charity, attempting to look down her nose at someone towering 4 inches above her, is trying to sell a bra! For Chrissakes, this B.I.T. (the last two letters stand for "in training") is selling you gd lingerie. God. I wanna say, "Drop the attitude, Alice, you're just a shop person." They must have a place where they clone these C02 generators, who are so anal that they cannot sit for fear of sucking up the furniture" I Hate You!

Reader Diane E. really hates: The Illiterate: When the time comes for midterm papers, inevitably the "peer review" session is soon to follow. Somehow I am always paired-up with the illiterate dumbshit who doesn't know the difference between "your" and "you're" or the oh-so-challenging "to" vs. "too." How did you even make it past seventh grade, much less get admitted to college, you brainless turd? The three-and-a-half minutes I spent skimming your (that's the possessive one) incoherent excuse for an essay is valuable time I could have spent reviewing my own paper. Instead, I have to circle all your frivolous grammatical mistakes like I'm your middle school English teacher. You're (that's an abbreviation for "you are") about as intelligent as Paris Hilton with half her cerebral cortex removed. I hate you!

Diane also hates: The Perfumed Diva: To the girl who always sits next to me in my 9 a.m. class: You apparently like the new J. Lo fragrance. Message received. But do you always have to douse yourself in perfume every morning to the point that the professor starts slurring his speech and wavering behind the podium because your eau de toilette is announcing itself to the whole room as subtly as an air-raid siren? There is a reason my eyes are watering, and it's not because I am deeply moved by the lecture. Furthermore, I have a hunch that the guy sitting behind you is not napping, but has in fact passed out as if in a tear-gas-induced coma. I've got a fragrance for you. It's by Ralph Lauren, perhaps you've heard of it? It's called Essence of I Hate You!

Reader Russel P. really hates: People who bitch…alot.

Reader Suzanne really hates: The hootin- hollarin fool: Mr. and Mrs. Smith how did you two meet? Mrs " well I was just out jogging one hot summer day when Mr. Smith started honking and whistling. I knew by the sweet melody of that whistle and the ear intoxicating sound of those car beeps, that he was the man for me!!!" Ok so for all you fat hairy old men , when was the last time you heard a Mrs. Saying that? NEVER? Oh you don't say how very peculiar that is! I would have thought by the way you instinctually beat away at your horn like you are the merry f-ing little drummer boy every time I walk/jog/ skip along ( I don't typically skip but maybe its just that sort of day) that this must always find you mates. Unlike Mrs. Smith, I can't tell you the last time I thought "aww that sweaty man driving that rickety ford pick-up is such a sweetheart for calling me a " hot baby-mm-mmm" I think I might just skip my Philosophy class and go track him down, he may just be the love of my life!" Oh yeah I HAVE NEVER HAD THAT THOUGHT YOU PIECE OF ASIAN DOG SHIT! Next time you feel the urge to comment on my or any other girl in the neighborhoods looks do us all a favor- roll up all the windows , wipe your sweaty dripping, un-showered self off, and look away from me , then wail away all you like go ahead!- feel better? Good ! You ear-deafening f*ck I hope a big Iron Pipe lands on you at the construction site and smashes your vocal cords you nasty piece of complete whacked out shit I HATE YOU !

Reader Nikola K. really hates: I hate people who can't drive with any semblance of intelligence. You're 36 years old and have been driving for 20 years, but some how you think it's okay to enter the freeway at 35 mph! Who the fuck do you think you are!? If you aren't swerving into my lane and causing an accident, you're making a right turn, but for some reason you can't merge and you end up on the sidewalk endangering the lives of a mother and her baby. You stupid fuck. I HATE YOU!

Reader Amber L. really hates: the "I'm gay so I know everything about fashion" people. I have this gay best friend and he always wants to go shopping with me. But I refuse because every time I suggest any type of fashion style he shoots me down with "Well I'm gay so I know." Just because your recently came out of the closet doesn't mean that you know everything about fashion. You wear a fucking cut off shirt with a button down dress up shirt under it! I Hate You!

Reader Allison F. really hates: The "quotes- corrector" guy. Picture the scene: you're hanging out with your friends, talking about guitars, etc, when someone recalls a quote from a movie everyone was just watching. All of your friends are about to start cracking up when a little annoying fuck comes along and says, "actually, the quote is (whatever the hell it was, with some minor change like "'the' to "'a')". No one gives a shit! All you've done is killed the joke and proven that you're a socially-inept moron! I HATE YOU! ("actually, it's I really hate you")

Reader Mary-Edward G. really hates: the Grammar Jerk – The guy or gal who always feels the need to chime in when you make one little grammatical error, like "ahem Sally and I." You know what, asshole, you aren't my mom and I am way more important than you and Sally so I am always going to put ME first when I'm trying to tell you something about what ME and Sally did so fuck you and you're little 7th grade grammar lesson because oh my god, I'm so glad you're my friend because instead of listening to what I was saying you're correcting me ooh how lucky I am, NO! I HATE YOU!

M-E. G. also hates: the extremely Ugly Guy who thinks he's hot and who tries to get with every girl he sees. You're not hot but for some reason you think you are and don't realize that you have no liberty hitting on me and my friends, and thinking you have a chance. I met this guy who was so forward about us "gettin it on later, baby" that he made me throw up (which also might have had something to do with all the beers I drank but nonetheless, nasty!) I had a small cold and he's like "oh no sweet tits, I hope you aren't sick cause we have to make out later" as he eye-rapes me and my friends – what? Hold on, did you just? I think I just I heard… this can't be… does he actually think? WOW! Ok… I don't even know what else to say but go have sex with your sister, I HATE YOU!

Finally, Reader Travis S. really hates: The guy from work who keeps asking my girlfriend for her number. Look dickhead, remember when you asked the first time and she told you she has a boyfriend and that you're uglier than a prostitute's vagina? Well, you obviously don't learn you short-yellow-bus riding retard. That's why you're a high school drop out stuck in a dead end job, while my girlfriend is already above you in the company, she just started there, AND she's only working there for the summer. You keep asking, she keeps ignoring, and she'd still rather drink a bottle of vaginal discharge than acknowledge your presence on earth. Only God knows why you're still alive. You're lucky she won't tell me who you are. I hope she rips your nuts off next time you ask, because if she doesn't do something terrible to you soon I promise you I will. You stupid cunt, I HATE YOU!

Wow, Travis. You can certainly form a powerful simile. Discharge" nasty. Anyways, that's all the hate for this week. Make sure to check back next week when I, and you, will be madder than ever. Also, remember to send me your submissions at suxatlife@hotmail.com and maybe all your friends can comment on what a bitter ass you are!