People You Hate XXX

Ah, the Famous Hate List turns thirty today. We've all had so much animosity, so much anger, so much, yes, hate. It's been an incredible thirty issues and on this, a magical day, People You Hate has been transformed into Inanimate Objects You Hate. Please, read on and find out why I hate window fans.

*Remember, if you want to be included in the Famous Hate List, email me your submission at Streeter@streeterseidell.com. Whether it's a person, thing or fellow contributor you hate, let me have it. Check out HATE!

MINE:

Window Fans: Oh, you damned piece of machinery, why won't you ever work the way I want you to? I turn you on high and my apartment is freezing. I put you on low and it's filled with smoke. Can't the ten-year-old Malaysian boys that assemble you find some intermediate setting? What is so difficult about a "'medium' switch? Huh, you piece of shit? The proudest day of my year was when I saw your companion – my first window fan – plummet out the window and smash on the sidewalk below. "Ha," I screamed at it, "Serves you right, you fucker!" Window fan, either work the way I want you to or suffer the fate of your fallen brother, you worthless pile of cheaply-assembled, Asian-made plastic! Window fan" I Hate You!

Parking Tickets: Everybody says, "You don't need a car in New York." I always thought these people were jealous idiots until the parking tickets starting racking up. I've (or my father, actually) paid over $500 in parking tickets so far and still have four in judgment. AWESOME! So, parking tickets, I hate you. I see you on my car in the morning and you immediately ruin my day. Your bright orange envelope screams, "Guess what, asshole? You owe us $45 now" sucker!" I stuff you in my glove box or tear you up and throw you away, but eventually you get back to me. My parents call to say they received a letter from the city of New York and I already know it's you, waiting to empty my wallet and ruin my good mood. Fuck you parking ticket, and fuck the stupid asses that write you. That's a whole other hate list right there. Wait for it, I'm seething. Parking tickets" I Hate You!

Febreze Bottles: When I buy something, I like to get my money's worth. Therefore when I purchase a bottle of Febreze I expect to use all of it. However, the demons at Febreze headquarters in Fuckton, Iowa have designed the pump mechanism to stop working when the bottle is halfway full. This causes me to buy another bottle because, let's face it, it's cheaper than laundry. But that doesn't mean I'm not angry. You're not Heinz Ketchup, you half-assed clothes freshener, nobody finds it charming when you can't get the last drop out of the bottle. Figure out a way – like every other company that uses spray bottles – to make it work to the end. I'm sick of having three half-empty bottles of your fucking spray lying around. Oh, and I want my money back, you lying douchebags. Febreze" I Hate You!

YOURS:

Reader Shelby S. of the University of Colorado really hates: My bed loft… I mean, I GUESS the thing serves a purpose since I can shove everything under it so we actually have room to walk around in our 10X10 dorm room, but the thing is pure evil. First of all, I hit my head on it every time I go to sit down at my desk, or get up from my desk. And the thing is so high (I'm 5'10'' and I can stand under it) that the only way to get into it at night is to set my chair next to my window, climb onto the windowsill, and then up into the bed. Do you have any idea how fun it is to do that drunk? Also, it's next to impossible to make the damn bed. You have to climb up onto the bed to get everything down, then climb back down and gather up all the sheets and wash them, then climb back up with the fitted sheet and get two of the corners on and then climb back down and get the other two corners on and then climb back up to put the top sheet on and then climb back down to get the blanket and then climb back up to put the blanket on, and then back down to get the pillows, and then back up to put the pillows on. It's a 45 minute aerobic work-out! And the damn thing is a total safety hazard! Do you want to know the coordination involved in trying to get out of the damn thing to go pee in the middle of the night when you're drunk?! It's IMPOSSIBLE. I full on fell out one night and got a 15'' bruise on my thigh. Bed lofts are the most dangerous, inconvenient, ridiculous inventions known to man and I HATE THEM.

Reader Nate H. from Detroit really hates: Jello with any kind of fruit in it. My mouth has enough to do when it tries to talk women into removing their tops for the teddy bear with camera lenses for eyes. It doesn't need to wonder if it should chew the fruit or let it slide down the gullet with the rest of the Jello goodness. Choking is for the birds. Chicks specifically.

Reader Patrick P. from high school really hates: I hate forwarded text messages! As if email forwards weren't enough, people are sending them to my phone now! At least the countless pieces of shitmail in my hotmail inbox can be received and deleted free of charge, but it actually costs money to get them on my phone. Why don't you start sending me a fricking dollar with that forward, you lameass? And in case you hadn't noticed, sending that message to 20 people didn't help you lose your virginity on Valentine's Day! Maybe you should take your fingers off the buttons on your phone and try inserting them into a girl; that seems to work a little better!

Reader Philip of Tusculum College really hates: Locks. Locks are running rampant. They are particularly found in such obnoxious places as doors. While useful for pleasuring oneself, the lock can sneak up on you when you go to the bathroom. Just what I need in the middle of the night is to leave my room to piss, and come back to find that I can't get in my fucking room, where sleep lives. Apparently these assholes want to fuck with us here, since we used to have covert ninja-style methods of breaking into our rooms, but we leave for spring break and they change the locks so we have to have keys to get in! The humanity! I think the lock is the invention of the Lonely Security Insomniac, who feels that he needs to have contact with us in the middle of the night. Fuck him, and fuck locks. I FUCKING HATE LOCKS!!!

Reader John S. from Iowa State really hates: I hate the cold, lifeless heart of an ex-girlfriend who was the one to cheat on me. After later dating a chick, then a married guy, that same lifeless heart decided to call after 8 months to say she's engaged, and would love for me to consider coming to the wedding because I'm an important part of her life (even though my last comment was "I would recommend staying away from married guys.")

Reader Heather R. of the US Navy really hates: Velcro. It just pisses me off and it's totally useless. I hate Ashton Kutcher, because if his dick isn't an inanimate object, I don't what is. I hate our slow ass computers. I'm sure we can afford a larger bandwidth, or we can do the smart thing and kick off all the civilian workers that are crowding it up. Oh wait…I forgot…if it makes sense, it's not the Navy way. I hate daylight savings time. Ben Franklin, you moron, what the hell were you thinking? We really don't need an extra hour to farm anymore. It just means that now I have to wake up an hour earlier. I HATE IT ALL!

Reader Carlos of the US Marine Corps really hates: Styrofoam peanuts. Great Caesar's ghost I fuckin' hate styrofoam peanuts! If I come within 10 ft of somebody opening up a new TV or a box of dildos, I immediately start going into convulsions like an epileptic doing the hokey pokey. That "squeaky-squeak-fuck-squeakin" noise goes straight to my inner ear and makes me feel like I'm either pissing on the third rail at Grand Central Station or I'm making sweet love to an electric fence. If I end up in hell, I'm sure I'll end up in the fucking stryrofoam factory down there. Styrofoam peanut…I Hate You!

Finally, Reader Mike S. from U of Buffalo really hates: Those generic shitty AA batteries that last for about 12 seconds in any respectable appliance. You know, the kind you end up buying at Wal-mart because you're a fucking college student, and you're too damn cheap to get REAL batteries. These are the ones with labels like Duralaxx, or the Energizinator. They're only 12 cents cheaper than the name brands but so what? So you get them, put them in your camera, turn it on, and 2 ½ pictures later you get the little blinking battery light….what the fuck is this? Do I need to carry a backpack of batteries to take a roll of film? Fuck that! To all you manufacturers who make these shitty batteries, I hope you stick your heads in a tub of burning battery acid. Next time I see you I'm using your crappy batteries to chuck at your face or your new fuckin car…at least they have some good there….fuckin AA batteries… I HATE YOU!!!!

Well, that's all for the 30th edition of the Famous Hate List. Join me next time when we return to the regular People You Hate formula. Also, remember to email me your submissions at
Streeter@streeterseidell.com. . If you saw something you didn't like on here, write a submission about the person that wrote it for the reader-on-reader hate section. Check out