People You Hate XV - Special Holiday Edition

Tis the season"¦to be hateful. Here at "A Word From The Streets"� we specialize in bringing you the very latest, very ugliest hate we can. And now, with Christmas dead and gone and a big stack of clothing awaiting return, we bring you a special Holiday edition of The Famous Hate List. It just wouldn't be that time of year without the anger.

*To anyone wishing to submit a hate list entry, please email me at suxatlife@hotmail and let it all out. The next edition will return to the normal, everyday kind of hate we know and love.

MINE:

Wendel the Whiny Jew: Most Jewish people like Christmas. This may sound strange but it is true. If it weren't for Christmas, Jewish kids wouldn't get presents on Chanukah. Plus, many Jewish families give gifts on - or around - Christmas just for fun. They keep intact the commercial aspect of the holiday without all the messy Jesus stuff (something I wouldn't have minded halfway through the 2 hour mass I attended on Christmas Eve). But there is always one Jew, one asshole, who can't seem to deal with the fact that, yes, Christians like to celebrate their holidays. He gets all pissy about Christmas trees in public places and chastises you for wishing him a merry Christmas. "I don't celebrate Christmas,"� he says in a snotty tone, "I'm Jewish."� Ok, well, happy Chanukah then. It doesn't matter to us; we're all in a good mood because we know that in a few days we will be swimming in products we didn't pay for. If you don't like the Christmas trees outside, stick a Star of David on top (after all, Jesus was Jewish). But, above all, please just keep your anger to yourself and let us celebrate our holiday without the guilt trip. We're not hurting anybody by giving each other presents. Shit, I'll buy you a present if you'll just shut the hell up. We don't get all mad about Yom Kippur, do we? Wendel, I hate you and your Scrooge-ish ways.

*To any of my Jewish readers, I joke because I love. Feel free to submit Christian-themed hate at any time. Also, interesting note: Microsoft Word spellcheck recognizes about 200 ways to spell "Chanukah."�

Mr. New Year: I put a lot of faith in people. I put so much faith in people that I often depend on them. Thus, I have been let down again and again by this man; Mr. New Year. He is your buddy that is going to make all the plans for your new years revelries. He was going to call the hotel and make reservations, he was going to buy all the Champaign for the hotel party, he was going to buy the tickets to the bar. Did he do any of this? No, no he didn't. For weeks you're expecting to ring in the new year atop some cool hotel with a glass of Moet in your hand, but what happens? You're in your parent's basement watching Dick Clark with a six pack of Natty and half a cigar you managed to steal from your Dad. He has ruined new years once again. Goddamnit, Mr. New Year, why don't you let me do the planning this year? You're a worthless excuse for a friend who likes the responsibility but consisstantly fails to follow through. I should ring in the new year by beating you senseless with a blackjack. But instead, I'll just complain and sip my warm beer in your parent's basement while you swear that, "the hotel was all booked up, dude. I called, like, a month ago."� Sure you did, asshole. Mr. New Year, I fucking hate you!

YOURS:

Reader Jessy Y. really hates: the 22-year-olds whose parents still give them tons of money to buy presents. yeah, my mom will put my name on something for great uncle bob who I never see, but when it comes to my parents and brother, I'm stuck paying. so I really don't want to hear about how your mom gives you ONLY $300 bucks to go Christmas shopping, and the expensive shit you bought your friends and family, because yeah, your gift came from the clearance rack at goody's, and you better be fucking happy I even got you one, you ungrateful bitch. Now excuse me, I have to go check the vending machines for quarters so i can afford buy my dad that book he wanted. maybe I'll just burn him a cd with downloaded songs--it's the thought that counts.

Reader Steph F. at U. of Memphis really hates: Scowling elderly. I held the door open for you. I smiled, I wished you a nice day of Christmas shopping. And you looked at me like I was trying to mug you. Yes, we are in Memphis. Yes, college kids have no money. But that doesn't mean I'm going to beat you over the head with my Old Navy purse to steal your Metamucil coupons. We haven't quite reached that point of desperation. Some old ladies are happy to be smiled at by a "youngun", but not you, you wrinkly old bitch. You'd rather scowl and hurry away from me. I'm a fucking 19 year old female with a southern accent...I couldn't be threatening if I tried!!! Damn it lady, I hate you.

Steph also hates: Stupid ass Religions Teacher. Yes, I have dark hair and eyes. Yes, I have a Jewish last name. But remember that card I filled out the first day of class? The one where you asked my religious background so as to know what we were already affiliated with? Read those, bitch. I'm a Buddhist in a Christian family. Not Jewish. Quit wishing me a Happy Hanukah. Don't ask me why I light the Menorah, or to speak to my Rabbi. I DON'T FUCKING HAVE ONE. I'm not a vegetarian because it's kosher. I can't read 'Hebrew. I DON'T SPIN THE FUCKING DREIDEL. But if I did....I would stab you in the eye with it, you dumb ass bitch.

Donovan O. really Hates: holiday music. How many long do we have to be subjected to this shit. It's horrible. If it wasn't horrible then they would play it through out the year and not just for a month and a half. I can't fucking stand going to the mall because you just move from one stupid ass song to another one in the next store. I mean really, who decided that we must automatically listen to holiday music the morning after thanksgiving? It's far too long. So I HATE HOLIDAY MUSIC!!! And I hate you if you fucking play it because if I have to go out and do Christmas shopping with this shit blaring over the speakers at every store I go to then I'm gonna pull out a gun and start cappin people, -- call it holiday spirit, whatever. So stop playing that shitty holiday music.

Reader Diana really hates: Paul Politically Correct -- this is the asshole who gets offended when someone wishes him a Merry Christmas instead of saying Happy Holidays. Hey smartguy, we're just trying to be friendly. If you're in a traditionally Christian area, you shouldn't expect everyone to change their holiday spirit for you. If someone of another culture wishes me a Happy Chanukah or Kwanzaa, I'll appreciate that they wanted to share their tradition. Especially if I'm in a country where they are the minority. It's Paul's fault that people at my workplace can get fired for saying Merry Christmas -- lighten up buddy and enjoy the fact that someone is being nice.

Reader David B at Georgia Tech really hates: the dumb slut red cross bitch who asks me for money outside the mall. I just bought about 12 dollars worth of Christmas presents for both my parents no I can't fuckin donate 72 cents to your charity. Do you understand what 72 cents is worth you whore rag? That's a natty light where I'm from and that's about 1/8th of the way to getting me fucked up for the night. So no, you fuckin bitch I'm a poor ass college kid with 3 dollars and 72 cents in my wallet and I will not give you money so that your bell and stick up your crusty old twat you fuckin bitch I HATE YOU!

Reader Sam P. of High School really hates: In the spirit of the holiday celebrating the birth of Jesus Christ I would like to say that I hate Mr./Mrs. Super-in-your-face-Christian. I know you all know who I'm talking about. They are the ass fucks who like to judge you constantly and always have something condemning to say about EVERY SINGLE activity us normal people do. NOONE I repeat NOONE wants to hear your stupid goddamn ass tell us how to live our lives. Despite what you think, not everyone wants to be told they are going to hell because they looked at a girl with lustful intentions, and yes I was condemned by doing that one time. I already know I'm going to hell, so next time you feel it necessary to make sure I am 100% certain as to where my soul will be tortured for eternity, don't damn me for listening to music that has the word "shit" in it, damn me for making fun of your mentally retarded little brother you goddamn ass. If you feel the need to do God's work so much why don't you just do us all a favor and die and join him..... I HATE YOU. and happy holidays.

Finally, The hater of the Holidays Award goes to Joe M from Baruch College Who hates the following people:

"Patti the walking Planetoid" I work in a mall, during holiday season, and I know its crowded, but there is no reason to waddle along merrily RIGHT INTO ME! I am moving boxes, and you cannot phase through them because I can tell by your blank expression and preoccupation with shiny objects that you probably don't even know how to spell science. Boxes are SOLID, they do not move out of your way. As you shift your orbit to prevent me from getting sucked in, please also take a moment to notice the floor is shaking! That's right, your mass is making thousands of tons of steel and concrete quake. Do us a favor, shop at the fucking drive thru until the bottom of your car collapses.

"Mr I got done back in October" Well whoop-dee-doo I got your medal right here, you shining example of compassion, caring, and financial planning, good job sir! Seriously, fuck you, nobody cares how early you got done with your myriad of purchases for all three people you had to shop for. You always lord it over us mortals that we have to deal with lines, and how if we just got up at 4:30 in the morning on Saturday we could beat the rush. Thanks for your advice, I think I'm going to go sever all my friendships, who needs people anyway? And sleep?! No way, of course I'd rather be out having convulsions from the cold. This is always a competitive person too, you just scored 15 bonus points in the game of life because you care more than me, you must, after all why would you brag to the semi-friends you have that you're such a better person for finishing early. Take that medal and hang yourself by the festive ribbon.

"Ronnie the Christmas Republican" You're right, I hate America, because I'm a dirty filthy liberal. I also eat babies and use the lord's name in vain. Oh shit, I forgot to capitalize the "l". This rare cretin acts like he invented Jesus and Christmas, and never fails to make this holiday political. What's your religion, Joe? Oh, agnostic, and you're a liberal, well why are you celebrating Christmas if you don't believe in it? This isn't your everyday republican, which I get along with, these are the missionaries proslethyzing the American faith. Jesus fucking Christ (oh no going to hell now) not everybody agrees with your religion or your fascist political agenda, I can't put up a tree and give gifts because I'm missing the "true meaning of Christmas"?! Go suck Dick (Cheney) because I'm sure if Jesus saw what his follower's were doing in his name, he'd come back to life just to shoot himself. I'm pretty sure even he doesn't love you, and this just in, J-man believes in evolution.

"Palm tree decorating Pamela" You live where you don't see snow, so what do you do? You light up a tropical tree just before your midnight swim. I don't know what I hate more, that you're warm and I'm not, or that you can't drive your ass to Wal-Mart and get a fake tree. Decorating a palm tree is not clever, its not classy, its from a goddamed Corona commercial. So go off and play with your jetskis, and your Miami beach, because when the summer comes and your house gets blown out to sea, I will sit up here laughing at your lame ass. Just for you, I'm going to take that dollar I was going to donate to the hurricane fund and buy a lotto ticket. I won't even play, I'll just throw it out, because I'm not giving you my dollar out of spite!

Hot damn, that's some fierce Holiday Hate. Remember, if you're offended by any of the entries; feel free to write your own take on the person for the new "reader on reader hate"� section. Or, just write me a normal hate list but send either kind to suxatlife@hotmail . Please include your first name, last initial and school. Happy Fuckin' Holidays everyone.

John 18:2:17
Jesus Instructs the Disciples on the Art of Decorating for Christmas

And so it was that Jesus' birthday fast approached. The twelve apostles were confused when it came to planning the party. The twenty-fifth night of December, said Paul, must be solemn and holy for it is the birthday of our Lord. Nay, cried Mark, to honor our Lord and savior we must be festive and cheerful.

The twelve argued for much time till, lo, Jesus came into the hut. Why do you argue, asked the Lord. No disciple would volunteer and answer so Jesus asked again. Why do you argue? After much silence, the twelve told of their predicament.

Jesus smiled, and bade them sit down. My children, He said, there is not but one way to honor the day of my birth; there are many. The twelve did not understand. But my Savior, asked John, we do not understand, should not there be one way to honor you? And Jesus knew their burden and took pain to explain His words.

My disciples, said Jesus, my flock is as varied as the animals on Noah's Ark. You all celebrate in different ways depending on the land of your birth. So, for each of you, celebrating the day of my birth will be different. And Jesus went on to instruct the apostles in how each nationality must honor him on Christmas.

I bid you listen here, called Jesus, for what I tell is the word of God. And the disciples all listened to Him. I will, cried Jesus, begin with the Italians, for they are the ones who decorate most fervently. If ye be Italian deck thy house with many lights. Make sure thine lights are colored and blink. Never has an Italian frowned upon glowing plastic statuettes of My Mother, Mary. Deck they yard with figurines and a plastic light-up nativity scene. It is important, continued the Lord, that ye never take thine lights down and leave them up all the year round. Everyone in the neighborhood will knoweth that ye love me. Also, maketh an Italian flag out of red, white and green Christmas lights and display it on thy house. For I am the one true God, and I must be honored by electric plastic lawn ornaments.

The disciples were pleased, but bade Jesus continue. Next, the Lord said, I shall instruct the Hispanics, for they are many in my flock. If ye be Hispanic ye will celebrate in thine own way. Ye shall blast "Feliz Navida"� from thine home on repeat and ye shall sing along. Ye shall forsake the cheap, Chinese-made figurines of the Italian, and instead adorn thine house with opulent golden crucifixes and a nativity scene where I appear to be Mexican. Ye shall hang a painting of My Mother, Mary, framed in blue velvet and golden yarn. All shall know you love Me and all will argue over who is tackier, the Hispanic or the Italian.

The disciples grew displeased. Jesus, asked Mark, I am neither the Italian nor the Hispanic, for I am white trash; how shall I decorate mine own home? And Jesus calmed Mark and said, I shall now tell the White Trash how ye shall decorate thine home. Ye shall adorn your double-wide trailer with sparse, but well-intentioned ornaments. All of thy decorations shall have been bought secondhand and shall be stained, dented, or burned in some way. Ye shall deck thy front yard with a Santa figure, yet he shall be missing four reindeer. In each of thy two windows, ye shall place a plastic candle with an electric flame atop it. These candles shall be stained yellow from thy cigarette smoke in ye trailer. Perhaps even, ye could string a "merry Christmas"� banner across thy door on which one side will fall off. Yours shall be a depressing site.

And Mark thanked Jesus for His wisdom. And Jesus said, there is one more group that I shall instruct, The Jews. Being that all there were Jewish, the twelve listened well. If ye be Jewish, ye shall disdain the day of my birth. Ye shall celebrate the Chanukah in retaliation. Upon your lawn ye shall place large, glowing menorahs and stars of David. Ye shall let everyone know that Santa cometh not to thine house. On the day of My birth, ye shall see a movie with others of your beliefs and eateth the food of the Asian. It shall be a day of sadness for you and ye shall curse Me and my flock. For, be it unfair that thy neighbor geteth a great big tree and all ye have is nine small candles. Do not be angry my Jewish brethren, for ye had a Bar Mitzvah and they did not.

And the disciples understood His word and all was well. And for all time would the world know how it should decorate for the birthday of the Lord. Now, said Jesus, who will bringeth the eggnog to the Temple party? And again, all the disciples fell silent.

Sadly, we all have an extended family. Most likely, you see yourself as the family's "black sheep;"� the lone tortured soul unable to find common ground with your relatives. You may be the outcast, relegated to the kid's table even though you clearly qualify for "grownup"� status. There you will sit this holiday season, snacking on cookies while little cousin Bobby excitedly tells you about "Mr. Wigglebot,"� his morbidly obese, but hilarious imaginary friend. You can't imagine how you could be related to these strange people and insist, against all evidence, that you were adopted. There's uncle Kevin explaining to aunt Rachel how, exactly the aliens captured his cow and did experiments on it. There's grandpa Bill wondering if he should tell anyone about the "accident"� in his pants. Why's he smiling? Because it was no accident, that's why. Finally, cousin Mary arrives with a fresh tattoo on her neck and about a gallon of gin in, and on, her body. Get ready for it because it's Christmas and your extended family is an inevitable consequence.

Try to think of it as penance. You were showered with gifts and affection on Christmas day. Dad got you the 40 Gig iPod even though you only wanted the 20 Gig one. Mom, for once, learned that gift cards are better than "elastic-waist khaki slacks."� You kid sister, mercifully, declined to monopolize the phone calling her boyfriend on Christmas morning. Yes, Christmas day was lovely. But now you have to pay. It's time to see the rest of the family"¦the ones you see in baby pictures, but couldn't name to save your life. Allow me to help you navigate through the treacherous minefield that is an extended family Christmas party and, if all goes well, get yourself a seat at the grown up table next year.

The first step is identification. Luckily, someone in the family - most likely your Mom - will know your relation to everyone in attendance. "Mom,"� you whisper, "who is that old lady."� "That's your great Aunt, Carol, honey. She was at your graduation party, remember?"� No. But, armed with this new intelligence, you can confidently approach the brittle-skinned woman digging into the ginger snaps with a hearty, "Great Aunt Carol, Merry Christmas!"� Now you have the upper hand and the burden of proof is on her. Watch with glee as her ancient mind scrolls through the thousands of names in there to locate yours. "Ohhhh, how nice to see you"¦Matthew?"� She'll say. Point: you!

Once you have secured your mastery of extended family nomenclature, move on to minute details. You must gather facts about your distant relatives for the final stage of the mission. Again, your Mom will be invaluable for this. She will be able to list off every child birth, home relocation, new job, birthday, death, and rehab stint for everyone in attendance at the party. You can now take on a serious face and offer your condolences to third-cousin Roberta for the loss of her husband's grandmother. You can congratulate uncle Wendell, twice removed, on his new job at the fish cannery. Yes, you will be commander of the compliment"¦king of the condolence"¦.master of the minutia!

Now for the final push. To make sure that everyone in the family knows that you are number one relative, propose a toast. From down at the kid's table, where you have been seated, stand proudly. Offer a polite "ahem"� and announce your intentions to make a toast. This is where it all comes together. All of your information gathering endeavors over the course of the evening can now be put to practical use. During your toast, make sure to address everyone who has had a significant event transpire over the year. Lavish compliments on new babies, pour over new jobs and new homes, and round it all out by wishing great-grandma Gretchen a late happy 91st birthday. Sit back down and wait for the applause for it will surely come.

To the kid's table, you will be sent no more. Next year, you will be welcomed by the family with open arms and accorded a seat at the adult table - next to Uncle Chris and his boyfriend. And from this seat you will see your younger cousin Martin - sullen eyed and angry - sitting in your former seat. His eyes hide nothing; he wants to sit with the adults, he wants to put on his headphones but, most of all, he wants to go home. Yes, Martin is like you once were: marginalized, angry, adrift in a sea of unfamiliar faces and unattractive sweaters. He will learn, in time, the tricks to surviving an extended family Christmas. Soon he will be as you are now. But till then, smile at his pain and watch as he tries to act interested when little cousin Bobby launches into thrilling stories about "Mr. Wigglebot."�


*To any member of my extended family reading this, I was just kidding"¦I love you all (except you, Uncle Marty, you're a weirdo)

People You Hate XXV

Mmmm, Mmmm, Mmmm! What's that Uncle Streeter has on the stove? It smells so good. Oh, I know what it is - a big ol' helping of hate for ya! Come one, come all to the twenty-fifth installment of the Famous Hate List. We've got a lot to get to, so let's start right away.

*If you'd like to contribute to the hate list, email suxatlife@hotmail and let everyone know you're more of a bitter ass than they are! NOTE, the next edition of the Hate List will be Holiday Hate, so make sure your entries have something to do with the holidays! Please include your first name, last initial and school.

MINE:

The Door Delinquent: I understand that you like talking to your friends. Hell, we all do. Sometimes I even talk to mine for hours on end without even thinking of stopping. But here's the difference between you and me; I don't stand right in the doorway when I talk to my friends. You fat fucking asshat, remove yourself from my path RIGHT NOW! I don't care of your friend is telling you the cure for cancer and has to get it out because he is about to be shot"¦you can still take you're conversation somewhere else. What is it about blocking everyone that so excited you? Is it the constant "excuses me's"� you hear from innocent people just trying to leave the building? Is it the powerful feeling that comes with knowing that you have the ability to slow entire crowds of people down? You're like a school bus driver that won't pull over to let the three mile car line behind them pass. Next time I see you standing there with your little coffee and your little hat and your little dick, chatting away to your little friend, I'm going to run my big ass (and it is pretty big) right into you. Get the fuck out of the doorway, slob"¦I Hate You!

Pauly the Playlist Hijacker: Have you ever thrown a party and heard a strange song coming from your computer that you don't remember downloading? Have you ever let someone else use your computer out of the goodness of your heart only to find out that your songs are all in disarray after? If you have, chances are you've met Pauly the Playlist Hijacker. His M.O., as it were, is to gain access to your computer either with permission or not. Pauly will then download every song that he likes and arrange them in a manner befitting his tastes. When you sit down to play some music a few days later and Mariah Carey's "Always be my Baby"� comes on, you'll know what has happened. Goddamnit Pauly, can't you just get an iPod? Then you won't have to tarnish my near-perfect playlist with your LFO and Neil Diamond MP3s. I don't want your shitty music infecting mine like a cancer, so keep it away. So, from now on, if I ever catch you using my computer again I will have no choice but to tie you down and make you listen to Godsmack over and over and over and over again while I beat you with a sack of quarters and squeal with delight. I'll stop when you realize that"¦I Hate You!

The Truth.com Squad: Ok, you little assholes, we get it; smoking is bad for you. Now, can you please shut the fuck up? Wait"¦this is going to be a whole article. Just marinate on how annoying they are till it's ready in a few days. I promise, it will be more seething with anger than most anything I've ever written before.

YOURS:

Reader Jodi R. at Skidmore really hates: Virgin Mary Mosh Pit: I fucking hate those prissy little fifteen year old bitches who go to shows with their equally annoying girlfriends and jump and scream for bands that they would have been too cool to listen to a few years ago. They wear those cookie cutter "punk" outfits with the tight jeans and studded belts. And they get all mad and shit when they get touched and pushed into. I really fucking hate when Mary Mosh Pit accuses me of FEELING her up just because it's crowded and I wanna dance. Yo, you fucking whore- if I wanted to feel someone up I would pick someone hot not your prissy ass. I fucking hate her.

Reader Kristen S. really hates: people who spic out their crappy car and try to fool people into thinking their car is nice. This to all you jackasses in Geo Metroes that try to run me off the road with your crappy ass car. Here's a little clue on life, if I can blow your ass away in my base model Ford Focus, your car is not nice. Just because you have a gaping hole in your muffler that makes your car obnoxiously loud, it's not going to fool me into thinking your car is nice. P.S. Keep your Uncle Grandpa Jim with Downs Syndrome away from the spray paint. Your car sucks ass. Save the money you would have used on chrome spinners and buy and real car. I FUCKING HATE YOU!!!!

Reader Dan Q. really hates: "Miss I can't wait to get out of this town" Every single year since I graduated I hear the same thing from the same type girls, "I can't wait to go to college and get away from this town. I mean all people do here is spread rumors and make up lies" First of all that is total bull shit, because most of the time it's because this little tramp got drunk and fucked three guys in a week and doesn't understand why she is being called a dirty whore. Then once they get to college all you hear is how college is so much better than where they grew up and act superior to you because you still love your home town. So basically all they wanted was to go somewhere where nobody knows who they are so they can just fuck whoever they want. I hate you!

Dan also hates: "Miss I know I wanted to get out, but now I don't get my way anymore" the cousin of the previous. These girls get to college and realize that all of sudden they aren't the hottest girl in school anymore and can't make guys do exactly what they want. So now all they do is piss and moan about how much they hate school and they just want to come back to Edgerton where things make sense. So sorry honey but you can't rag on my hometown and then expect me to care that you no longer have the pussy mind control over guys. I hate you!
(Author's Note: Where the fuck is Edgerton?)

Reader Taylor B. at UPENN really hates: Sketchy coke frats.. they ruin everything. I am a rugby player, in the traditional rugby frat. Despite our overwhelming awesomeness we get no love from what little hot girls we have becuase they'd 'rather go do coke'. They just use it to diet anyways. Bitches. I also hate these Penn girls"¦they are too smart. You can't trick them into bed as easy.

Mysterious reader known only as JC really hates: Drama kids: With your fucking fake personalities. You're always making things far better or worse than they are. You can't just eat a meal. It has to be UTTERLY DELICIOUS, or DISGUSTINGLY PUTRID. You can't have a normal day. It's either GLORIOUS or HORRIBLE. You can't even 'know' people. Randoms are either your lovers or enemies. Be fucking normal for once. Not everything is that exciting. Even if they were, you wouldn't have the personality to really experience them. Go kill yourselves.

The Mysterious JC also hates: Pseudo intellectual assholes. Fucking sitting for hours on end outside a coffee bar, just reading whatever literature you think would make you appear smarter, or talking about philosophy or politics or your views on the world when YOU DON'T KNOW SHIT. To top it off, you talk loud enough where people 50 yards away can still hear your loud ass. Then when I ask you to please be quiet because I'm trying to sell it to the coffee bar girl, you look at me like I'M the idiot who can't be in public. I loathe you all. I wish nothing but horrible things upon you. I hope you get raped and murdered in the most unpleasant manner possible.
(Author's Note: Wow, JC's got some anger"¦we like that here.)

Reader Matthew T. really hates: bitching over involved Barry- This guy willingly joins every group he could possibly be in. Official or unofficial, if its a group then he wants to be a part of it. I roomed with this guy last year, he's a piece of work. The only positive thing is that I didn't have to see this douche bag in the dorm room very often, but when I did he was a gem. He'd bitch about the lack of time he had for homework and friends because of his over-involvement. Suck it up pussy I hate you. I hope you get caught masturbating and crying to Steel Magnolias. ps. In his defense Julia Roberts is hot and its sad when she dies.....P.s.p.s .....I'm a big pussy.

Matthew also hates: I also hate chiming in Charlie. This isn't any person in particular like the last masterpiece, but I guess he had moments like this too. Don't even think about having a conversation around any of these assholes. Oh boy they'll give you their $100 worth. And the magical thing about these pricks is, they're always right. I can't fucking believe it, it's a god damn miracle. You could be talking about the score of the football game last Sunday. This bastard of a man will chime in on how he watched the game to, and where it went wrong for this team and what this quarterback did right and the top ten reasons why he prefers boxers over briefs and....baaaaaaa I hate you.

Reader Jackie O. (hahaha, she's famous) really hates: Big Boob Brenda. I'm a petite girl with big boobs, 34 D's, in fact. Obviously, I get a lot of attention for them as, well, they're completely disproportionate being that I only weigh 117 lbs. Every now and then I jokingly brag to the girls that my titties are probably the reason this sensational guy gave me his number. But, there's always the one girl who is like two hundred fifty pounds who listens into your conversation and says, "Oh, but, Jackie, what sized boobs do you have. 36 C's? Mine are 42 FFF. I have bigger boobs. HA HA." Look, bitch, you guessed my cup size lower just so you could make yourself sound more huge than me thus attempting to improve your low self-esteem. Plus, YOU WEIGH SIX HUNDRED POUNDS MORE THAN ME, YOU STUPID FAT BITCH. Fuck off.

Jackie also hates: That fat girl at parties that croons she is so drunk. She's wearing barely any clothes. Then, I happen to walk by after I've just openly hit on the guy she has had a long-standing crush on that I didn't know about because I didn't even know her name. I'm wearing my favorite skirt, the one that everyone has always loved, that is perfectly fine looking. She says, "OH, I looovvve your skirt." Naturally, being the polite girl that I am, I reply with a thank-you. Just as soon as I say it, she and her other fat bitch friends start howling in laughter, continuing to remark about how drunk they are. Look, Fattie McFatster, sorry. I'm hotter than you. The boy that you have a crush on thinks you're absolutely repulsive. I know. He's told me as he was kissing my neck. HA HAHAHAHAHA. Who's the winner now, fattie? I didn't even like him that much either.

Reader Andrea O. really hates: People who drive around in rain and/or a blizzard without their headlights on. What's wrong with you? No one can see you, you dumb fuck. Seriously, if you do this you deserve to die in a fiery car crash"¦..Ok, maybe not die, but get burned really, really badly! I HATE YOU!

Andrea also hates: The guy who sits behind me in Sociology. Shut up already. You try to sound smart by analyzing every fucking thing that comes out of the teacher's mouth and you just sound like a schmuck. When our professor says things like.. "Umm... okay... anyway" in response to your comments, you should really get the hint that you're insights are not appreciated. Oh, and stop telling everyone how much you love Gucci. You shop at Target like the rest of us, so shut it already. I HATE YOU.

Mike S. of Alberta, Canada really hates: Joe I'm So Fucked. I'll be honest. I like drugs. I like taking drugs. I, however, don't like announcing that I do drugs WHILE I'm on them to friends or strangers. Its just not necessary, unless its to confirm to with fellow drug users that they are all fucked as well. Even then its a quick statement that doesn't become the topic of conversation. But not for Joe. This guy is the same guy who feels the need to tell everyone how much he's drank and how drunk he is except this is worse especially in a public. " I can't believe I took so many pills man. Holy fucking dick what was in those. I'll tell ya what was in them. Ecstasy, or MDMA as some call it. Where did you get that shit man fuck I need to get some more." This conversation of course could not wait until I was done buying my gum in front of the cashier at the gas station for fuck sake. I guess I believe in a little thing I like to call 'Drug Decorum". Some people just love getting high as fuck and going out and making complete testicles of themselves, which is fine under the right circumstances (ex. raves, bars, large parties key word large, etc). Some examples off bad circumstances would be downtown at 6pm on a Thursday, while visiting relatives and getting fucked and then giving some "drugs" to your drunk cousin who, once high, cant stop talking about the most depressing shit I've.. um fuck it I've ever heard high on, of course, something I've never done before and then saying that this shit is cut with arsenic. Now even if that was true, which I knew wasn't, you should never say that to someone who is really fucking high. DECORUM people, fuck! That's like telling someone who is going on a vacation to Brazil that they'll probably be kidnapped or catch malaria. You know what Joe, keep your goddamn cocksucker comments to your fucking self. I don't hate life yet and when I get high, its to escape reality, not dwell on all the shit that's going wrong with my life. So, until you fucking deal with your problems Joe, I fucking HATE YOU

Reader Leigh D. of UNC really hates: Rarely-there R.A.: I think I have seen you a total of 3 times all semester, yet you felt compelled to leave me a nasty note about the "serious violations of the community standards" you found over Thanksgiving break. Guess what, bitch? Some of us are old enough to drink so yeah, we can have alcohol in our rooms. And I left my A/C on when I went home? Oh my God! Call the cops! What a horrible, horrible offense! How can I ever hope to make it up? Not to mention the other stupid things you wrote on that nice little note you taped to my door for the whole dorm to see. Don't you think that as a senior, living on campus is enough punishment for me? No, of course not. Even though you are in your room a total of maybe 2 hours a day, you think you have the right to tattle on me and my room mate. Wait till you get out in the real world, and then see how far tattling will get you. Hopefully it will get you beaten repeatedly. That's exactly what you deserve, because I HATE YOU!

Reader Jason N. of North Texas really hates: the pricks that write shit about people on their message boards when they KNOW the person they are writing shit about is gone for the weekend. GROW A DICK MOTHERFUCKER and say that shit to their face. Just because you are a lying, cheating, sonofabitch and SHE DUMPED YOUR PATHETIC JEALOUS ASS doesn't mean that you should write shit like "slut" or "whore" or "tramp" all over the door to her dorm room. GROW SOME BALLS. If you have shit to say, fuckin SAY IT. There is NO excuse for some dickless jackoff to take the fucking PUSSY way out and write shit about people when the person they are writing about isn't even there to see it. God I fuckin hate you.

Reader Ashley B. really hates: FAT people that complain a lot and don't do anything besides sit on their ASS eating chips! If you are so FUCKING worried about your weight, maybe you should get off your fat ASS and do something!!!!!!!!! (If you can get out of your chair!) dumbasses go running, go walking, GET THE FUCKING MAIL FOR GOD'S SAKE!!!!! ANYTHING!!!!! Or stop fucking complaining you FAT MOTHER FUCKER, I HATE YOU!!!!!!
(Author's Note: I still love ya, fat people!)

Reader Jamie B. really hates: My roommate. He is a waste of human life. He is actually proud of the fact that he has no friends. He has absolutely no life whatsoever, and the only people he knows in the dorm are the ones who live right next to him. Since he has no life and no friends when he doesn't have anything to do that is what he does, absolutely nothing. He somehow managed to have no classes on Friday so he sits in the room or the lobby all day, reading or staring at nothing. Sometimes he reads standing up in the middle of the room for a change (no joke) and if I happen to be in the room he makes comments on whatever I am doing if I am on my computer. Sometimes he sits on his bed with his computer and doesn't move for hours. And all of this happen every single fucking day! He is a master at wasting time, because he has no friends to hang out with. One time he told me he was considering being an RA next year. Then later he told me it was definitely out of the question because he learned that he would have to do at least ONE SOCIAL ACTIVITY PER MONTH, because that's what the school requires, but no, that was a horrifying prospect to this antisocial douchebag. One time he told me his outlook on life was "if you expect the very worse you will always have everything turn out better than you expected" Why not try and have a little more positive outlook on life. He has never had anything to do with a girl in his life. I couldn't give a rats ass about this but you realize that the rest of us who girls aren't a foreign species to actually want to hook up with them. So if its late and you come into the room (from the lobby where you haven't moved for the past five fucking hours, and I am on my bed talking to a girl whose there then clear the fuck out. The best way to piss me off in that situation is to come in, groaning as usual, pop all the joints in your body, and proceed to go to bed in front of me and her. Now, we weren't doing anything but first of all why the fuck are you coming in and acting like we don't even fucking exist? Second of all we don't want to smell whatever the fuck it is you smell like all the time after you shower (it cant be on purpose because it smells like crap) Third I think that your fat ass snoring 3 feet from us is a 100 percent assurance that nothing WILL happen. He continually groans and makes noise like he's 80 years old and has trouble moving around. In case you haven't noticed asshole, cracking every joint in your body every 10 minutes makes everyone within hearing range want to fucking kill you. And standing up, groaning and still popping every single fucking joint in your body makes me want to strangle you. Oh, and every time someone comes in the room who hasn't been there before, they always ask about the gallon or so of Listerine, the fucking industrial sized bottle of Tylenol (he pops at least 10 a day I don't have a fucking clue why) and the goddamn whirring air freshener that you will "die because of your allergies" without. So if I turn it off will you drop dead or suffocate in your sleep? I'm seriously considering it because I FUCKING HATE YOU!!!

My fat sorority bitch RA. This bitch is one of the ugliest people I have ever seen. Every piece of clothing she owns has her fucking sorority emblazoned on it. And everyone else who is wearing that logo is fat. Is one of the requirements for pledges that you have to be over 250 pounds? Because it would seem so from seeing all the fat bitches walking around campus. I have the bad luck to be two doors down from this monstrosity. All the friends she brings over to her room are at least as massive as she is. The only people more unfortunate than me are the girls who live between me and her. (The people on the other side have no lives so it doesn't matter for them). Once at the start of the year they told me that they were talking about how the no substance policy (fucking freshman dorms) sucks. She came over to their room and knocked on the door and said "I can hear every word you guys are saying, and if you are going to keep talking about just be warned that I am going to keep listening." The thing about this is the walls here are cinder blocks. A bomb could go off in the next room and most people probably wouldn't notice. But this fat bitch probably had her ear pressed to the wall. Once I asked her what the worst thing about being an RA was (when my loser roommate was considering being one) and she says "having to deal with people like (insert your friends names here)". Hey bitch has it occurred to you that those people are my friends. It would be impossible for me to loathe your existence any more but you just sealed your reputation as supreme asshole in my view. You also hand out hall charges for anything, from pieces of paper fallen off the wall to talking in rooms after quiet hours. None of the other RA's have huge sticks up their ass about things like that. Once I had to go on rounds with her for a night as part of punishment for being caught with alcohol. I asked her what she considers good enough to open a door and tell people to quiet down. She tells me things like loud music, smell of alcohol or clinking bottles. Of course the Ra's use things like "too much noise" as excuses to open the doors all the time and check for alcohol. But this bitch actually goes around listening for bottles clinking. But I must say I have gotten her pretty good, once when I was wasted I was heading for the bathroom but decided that her closed door would be a better place to spew. The hall was rewarded with a 150 dollar charge but it was well worth it. I hope you get a heart attack and die you fat bitch because i FUCKING HATE YOU!!!!

The Hater of the Week award goes to Reader Karl K. of Detroit for this three-part rant.

Karl really hates: I hate Canadians. They come to school in my country and all they do is bitch about how shitty America is. Listen assholes, if America is such a shithole, then why are you going to school here? Is it because the University of Windsor is such a great and prestigious college to be and you're doing a favor for the American people by coming here and letting us experience your knowledge? Or is it because the entire Canadian economy is based off of 17, 18, 19, and 20 year old kids who are too young to drink and gamble in the US so they do it in your shitty country. You go past Windsor and what do you see in Canada? Nothing. On top of that, Toronto has had every single damn world disease on the face of this planet and the last thing that we want is to get SARS or West Nile from your stupid Canadian homosexual asses. All that you dumbfucks can do is talk shit about how dumb our president is and how you guys are so great because you have free health care. That's your fucking argument? You guys have free health care and our president is legally a retard, so you MUST be better than America? Why would we want free health care anyway? You're telling me that if I was in Canada, I would get the same amount of health benefits as some bum on the streets? You're honestly going to sit there and try to even make that some sort of argument that Canada is so much better because of that fucking retarded train of thought? Yeah, America sucks so badly, that's why everybody wants to get into this country. Real great, assmonkeyfuckwhores. The only thing that you idiots are number one in is being north of the United States. You walk to any person in Canada and ask them to name five US presidents, they can do it. You ask them to name any five Prime Ministers, I'd be damned if they could even begin to think. And to add insult to injury, when I want to go the vending machine only to find that I have 55 out of the 65 cents American and that the dime that so desperately need is a fucking Canadian dime, it makes me want to take every single Looney and Tooney that I find and jam it down all the throats of you Canadian bastards. By the way, you know a country is in the shithole when they name the $1 coin a Looney and a $2 coin the Tooney. That's so clever; I didn't know that it was going with the theme of the rest of your country: retarded! I thought that was only a temporary thing that only made me want to kill you shtifaces on the weekends. Any Canadian, if you want to fight me, go ahead, I'd win because we're in America and I have home court advantage, so go jerk off about Canada in some other country.
(Author's note: Damnnnn, that's some serious hating on our brothers to the north!)

Karl also hates: The morons who pretend that they're so smart with all their extending intelligence in human anatomy. Instead of saying, "last night, I was at the bar and hit my throat on some prostitute's shin," they just HAVE to say, "On the night that was last, I hit my thorax on some hooker's posterior rami." Really? You can't just use the normal words that everyone else uses? Half the time, you're wrong anyway, there must be something wrong with your goddamn head, oops I mean cranium, Mr. Shitfuckidiot. If I had the chance, I would hire someone to rip you apart limb from limb, all the while making to disscet your own fucking legs, and telling me what each muscle does, you poor excuse for a human life. You honestly think that you're going to med school? Fat chance. Oops, strike that, I mean Lipid chance.

Karl finally hates: The kids that once they find out that someone speaks another language, the first thing that they say is, "Oh, you know Latin? Say something in Latin." No, I'm not doing anything for you or your homosexual fuck buddy. You don't know what I'm saying anyway, so does it really matter? What, are you going to test me on the depths of my knowledge of that language? No, you're not going to do anything because you're just a fat whore. I hope that all the people from whatever country your so interested in hearing that language from take you and throw you in the ceremonial pit of fire and then they'll be saying their ceremonial shit in their language, then you'll be able to hear it then, alright idiot? Until then, don't bother me with your bullshit. (PS, I don't really speak Latin; anyone who does is a badass though)

We have a tie for weirdest Hate of the Week.

First we have Reader Jakie O. who really hates: my ex-boyfriend's dipshit "best friends." I trust him to stay at a party without me because I generally don't have a reason to distrust him. I also have the comfort of knowing that he's not going to have sex with any of the girls there because the ones that haven't already starting hooking up with their guys are already passed out. However, somehow, he'll get really drunk and high, so he sucks his gay best friend's wiener. Four of the other friends are within the same vicinity, oh say twelve feet away. They know that we've been dating for a year and a half. They do positively nothing to stop this from going on and ruining my life. But, in the morning, they let out an awkward laugh, and encourage him not to tell me. I hate more that I pretended to laugh at those pretentious fucktards' jokes. I hope they choke on their next beer.
(Author's note: WTF?!)

Second we have Darren T. of URI, who really hates: The dumb bitches that stay with their boyfriend/girlfriend after they've been cheated on and lied to for months. Oh, yeah... it happens a lot, especially a boyfriend hooking up with some girl, or a girlfriend hooking up with some guy. Sometimes -- yeah, that might be excusable. Might be. Chances are, you can still work on it. But when your significant other hooks up with someone of the same sex? And keeps it from you, for months? AND YOU STAY WITH HIM AFTER YOU FIND OUT!? And continue to follow him around campus like a lost puppy dog? C'mon, you gotta be really fucking stupid for that. Get a fucking clue! I HATE YOU! You give all women a bad name, you dumb cunt!
(Author's Note: Double WTF?! Are guys "faggin"� out now? Is that the thing to do?)


...AND NOW, a new section to the Famous Hate List. I call it "Reader to Reader"� hate. Here, readers can hate on each other and even me for the people we hate!
(Please don't be offended if someone hates you"¦write them back in the next edition!)

Reader Mark R. really hates Reader Rachel: Just tell reader Rachel that there is no such thing as a Delta Sigma Sister. A Delta Sig is short for Delta Sigma Phi, which is a fraternity. She just looks like the stupid whore now.

Reader Whit V. of Furman really hates Me: I hate how Streeter Seidell's column's keep getting sent to my email box twice instead of just once. I mean, I like your column, Street; that's why I subscribe to it. But two emails instead of one. It's not twice the humor, not twice the insight, not twice the ego trip of getting an email - it's just twice the annoyance of having to open my email so that the little flag goes away. Get over yourself. It's not cool, it's just annoying. I hate your second email.
(Author's Note: For the last Muthafuckin time, I was having email problems! DAMN!)


OK, I promise, that is all for now. Join me next time as we take on that special kind of hate that can only come but once a year. Till then, I hope you've enjoyed the 25th edition of The Famous Hate List. Thanks to all who contributed.

*Remember, if you want to be included in the hate list, the next edition will be "Holiday Hate."� Send your submissions today to suxatlife@hotmail

1. Get Dad to let me do easy work around the house so I don't have to pick up crappy shifts at old job.

2. Bang hot girl from high school that I talked to on IM a few times over the semester.

3. Wear school hoodie and/or sweat pants as much as possible.

4. Convince Mom and Dad to let me take car back to school with me; use excuse that "I'm always late for Bio because it's on other side of campus and the bus never comes on time."�

5. Avoid shoveling snow and/or raking yard by complaining of back pain; get Vicadin prescription to sell once back at school.

6. Eat as much non-diarrhea-causing food as possible.

7. Promise myself I will work out; sit on couch.

8. Complain about how boring town is after first three days.

9. Make unreasonable New Years plans with high school friend; end up at basement party thrown by said high school friend's little brother.

10. Take advantage of Mom and Dad's superior "Movies On Demand"� digital cable package.

11. Craft believable lies about how cool my semester was to impress attentive high school friends. NOTE: make sure to offer to "totally call my roommate"� in case high school friend doubts sincerity of story.

12. Protest loudly about decorating the house for Christmas since, "I'm only gonna be here for a few more weeks"¦what's the point?"�

13. Go through "history"� on house computer; learn that little brother is interested in marine animals, rap music and Swedish girl-on-girl.

14. Convince parents that more money is needed to purchase textbooks for next semester; offer to "mail you the receipt if you don't believe me."� NOTE: Do not mail receipt.

15. Make fun of "townie"� friends that didn't attend college; overlook the fact that they make much more money than I do.

16. Reminisce about High School at bar with old friend; use phrases such as, "Jeeeeeezus, did we really do that?,"� "Man, I can't believe how old we are,"� and "Oh God, Shirley Hanson"¦Soooooo hot back then"¦I hear she had a kid."�

17. Drive past High School numerous times; wish I could go back and do it again. NOTE: Never admit to wishing to go back to High School.

18. Get extremely excited to see family dog; realize after ten minutes that he farts and drools all the time; put dog outside for rest of break.

19. Call college friends immediately after Christmas to brag about presents; pretend iPod is 40 Gig version when it is really 20 Gig version.

20. Wish break would end so I can get back to school and party; immediately after returning to school complain about workload and shitty class schedule; wish it was break again.

Karo has a new column out , so check that. This update has been brought to you by CH Raw, the ad-free version of CollegeHumor with additional boobs. Hotlinks!

The Finals Poem

Time for Aderol and caffeine
More bloodshot eyes you've rarely seen
The library's packed for the first time all year
Oh shit, Oh no, finals are here.

These terrible tests which you dread
Roam like devils inside your head,
Waiting for the perfect moment of the year
To ruin all your Christmas cheer.

"Why can't they be over"� you ask
Knowing full well your future task.
"I cannot study anymore"� you say again
while tapping a pencil against your head.

"Where's the Tylenol?"� you scream aloud
"My head feels like a mushroom cloud."�
"Quiet Down!"� Your roommate yells after you.
"I've got bio tomorrow and english too!"�

Your finals, it seems, do much more
Than test the knowledge which you store.
They test your patience, your temper and wits
While ruining all your friendships.

You bitch and moan and then give in.
You stay up late till they begin.
You study all day, you study during night
In hopes that you might get it right.

When the day is near for testing
Your mind is in need of resting.
Coffee, Ritalin, NoDoze and cocaine
Extract quite a toll on your brain.

Bleary eyed and weak kneed, you walk
To the classroom, where no one talks.
Than the rest of the class, you are much dumber
You should have just been a plumber.

"Oh well"� you say and launch right in
True hell is about to begin.
But as you flip the pages, you come to see
That you didn't even have to study.

You knew this crap from the start
And it silently breaks your heart
That the hours you spent locked in the library
Could have been spent watching TV.

Once you've finished, you hand it in
At the mercy of the red pen.
Go drink as much as your body will allow.
Why the hell not? You're done for now.

Sometime soon while you sit at home
During the break, all alone
You're grades will come and you'll be happy
"I got a B"¦.not too shabby."�*

*unless you perform poorly on your tests in which case you better start looking for a job at Wal-Mart.

Dedicated to everyone out there with books in their hands, bags under their eyes and a Ritalin-stache on their upper lip. Good Luck!

Trans-Siberian Awesomeness

Two thousand and four years ago a little boy was born in manger in Bethlehem. He would grow up to change the world forever by preaching his message of love, compassion and faith. He would be remember by those who believe as the son of God; Jesus Christ. Every year on December twenty-fifth, the faithful celebrate his birthday by spreading love, cheer and X-Boxes to all.

Eight years ago, a man named Paul O'Neil found out how best to celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ. It wasn't through gift-giving, praying or fervent faith"¦it was through blistering guitar riffs, retro-80's haircuts and ridiculously over-dramatic stage shows. Paul, or Christ II as I call him, started the Trans-Siberian Orchestra and the world has never looked back.

For those of you not familiar with the Trans-Siberian Orchestra - and you should all be ashamed of yourself - they are, simply put, the greatest band of all time. A full orchestra and chorus, they fuse subtle string arrangements with blaring guitars and drums. And, best of all, they rock about Christmas; transforming (or, Trans-Siberianating) classic Christmas tunes to satisfy the 80's metal-head dwelling in all of us. They are the "Metallica"� of the music hall"¦The "Cinderella"� of the symphony"¦the "Twisted Sister"� for the opera listener"¦the hair band for the classical fan!

Their opus is certainly 1996's "Christmas in Sarajevo."� Some of you may remember the video which is perhaps the cheesiest piece of cinematography ever produced. We open on a young girl, no more than seven, sneaking into the living room of an opulent house on Christmas Eve. Forsaking her unopened presents, the young girl heads instead to a mysterious chest glowing within. As she surveys the contents of the chest, she removes an ancient hour glass"¦and that's when the rocking starts! Apocalyptic images flash across the screen as the young girl removes more items from the accursed chest; a clock spins rapidly, fighter jets take off, ruthless dictators fire guns into the air, even her two little kittens begin to fight. The music swells and the double doors swing open to reveal the Trans-Siberian Orchestra rocking in the back yard, snow falling all about them. The young girl rocks with them, conducting in unison with the bearded, fatherly leader of the Orchestra. Silhouetted guitar players riff, a snow-covered piano shakes with passion and the kittens roam about on cottony snow. The narrative continues with the young girl frantically trying to sneak back into her home as to not have her transgressions discovered by her awakened mother. And so concludes the finest video ever produced.

If you aren't already downloading this masterpiece and sweating with anticipation, hear this; they still tour. A friend of mine recently went to see them in Connecticut and what a time she had. She returned from the show with tales of over-ambitious laser usage, flowing mullets gracing the backs of tuxedos and even pyrotechnics on the scale of "White Snake"� circa 1986. And all in the name of Christmas revelry; this is what Jesus would have wanted.

Now, I don't want to say that Jessica Simpson isn't capable of capturing the spirit of the season on her Christmas album, but let me ask you this: is singing in a sexy, soft voice in a little red outfit really Christmas magic? It may be nice to listen to and may even evoke the spirit of the holidays, but it cannot capture the raw power, the awesome sensuality, the screaming intensity that was the birth of Jesus!

Is there such a thing as rocking too hard? The Trans-Siberian Orchestra doesn't think so. If you're looking to show your family that not only do you believe in Christ the Savior, but also like to rock about it, there isn't a better way than blasting the T-SO all day long. If you are still doubting the magnitude of this clearly-not-aware-what-year-it-is band, then check out their website at Trans-Siberian.com. Especially enjoy the thrilling video for "Christmas in Sarajevo"� which is found in the multimedia section of the website.

Now, I have some serious symphonic-rocking to do.

Look around you, what do you see? The trees are bare, the girls have started to wear sweatpants to class and your skin is now featuring all your blue veins that your tan once covered. That's right, it's winter. "Oh no,"� you say, "I hate winter. It's so cold and nobody looks attractive anymore."� But, my friends, winter is so much more than cold fingers and pneumonia; winter also means Christmas break.

No doubt you've noticed that your "cool"� professor is trying to jam in all the material you missed when he was "cool"� enough to cancel class on that sunny day back in September. You've also noticed that the once empty library is a hive of activity as kids all try to out-study each other for bragging rights. "My test is gonna be so hard that I was in the library for 32 hours. Beat that, loser."� Yes, the semester is winding down but luckily I am here to make your last few weeks as enjoyable as possible.

To fully enjoy your remaining time before your three week self-imposed exile, listen up.

*Don't bother studying for your finals. Just take the test cold and test your "raw"� intelligence. That way you can see how smart you really are.

*If you do plan on studying for finals, make good friends with someone who suffers from ADD. They'll have plenty of smart-pills for you.

*If you have a significant other at school, express your wish to "take a break"� for the holidays. That way you don't have to get them a present AND you can finally get with Christy Marcus who "was totally into"� you back in high school.

*Buy your friends at school one small Christmas present each costing no more than $3. Do not, however, buy any of your Jewish friends Chanukah presents"¦greedy bastards, eight presents? Are you kidding me? I'm not made of money, Saul.

*If you can't afford presents for your friends, try this: leave school a day early so they can't get all on your ass about how they bought you a "sweet funnel with your name on it, dude"� and you didn't get them shit.

*Use any minor illness, like a runny nose or a smoker's cough, to procure a take-home final from your professors. "I'm so sorry, professor, but I have a serious case of strep. I really should take the final at home so I don't get the rest of the class sick."� Works every time.

*If you are driving home for the holidays, find out who lives near you. When you've compiled a list, pare it down to the hottest three members of the opposite sex and offer them rides. You might actually feel cool in your 94 Jetta.

*If you're flying home, aren't you just so special Mr. I'm-so-rich-I-just-fly-all-over-the-place"¦jerk.

*If you're planning to get a Christmas tree for your dorm, make sure to do it quickly. Also, if you have a Jewish or Muslim roommate, offer to top the tree with a Star of David or the roasting corpse of an infidel so they don't feel left out.

*Make sure your frat's Christmas party is better than everyone else's. Make yours classy by insisting that all the girls invited wear respectable clothes, sing Christmas songs and try the roofie-nog"¦"�Ham-Bone made it himself!"�

*Unlike your family, where a bad present must be received with a half-smile and a fake "how did you know?"�, a bad present from a school friend can be thrown away in front of them.

*Immediately kill anyone who says, "Christmas sucks. It's so boring."� They cannot be allowed to pollute the Season of Greed with their nay-saying.

I hope these tips will help you in the hectic weeks ahead. I'll see you all in January, twenty pounds heavier and three shades paler. Good luck.

*IM Gillian at chilipep13 on AIM. She loves to talk and even CYBER!

Gillian Pensavalle
Mrs. Deegan
11th period history
9th grade

The Cold War

Back when my daddy was a kid their was this war calld the cold WAr. It was between america and rusha and it was really bad. It was so bad that my daddy said he used to hide under his desk at skool ro rusha woodint see him.

It all started when Rusha killed the Zar and started to have a communism. A guy named Lemon started it all but he died and they froze him like Walt Disney. A communism ment that everyone had to be poor and wear silly clothes like fuzzy hats with ear muffs and not be jewish. Once everyone was poor and not jewish they made this thing called a spudnick and shot it out into space. Everyone in america got freaked becuz the rusha had a spudnick and we didn't.

But then we remembered that we had a bunch of nucleer mistles and rusha didn't. We started to make lots and lots of them and also a lot of desks for our dads to hide under in school. There was this guy called Krucheff who was king of rusha and he didn't like president jfkenidy. He got so mad at him one time that he took off his shoo and made jfkenidy smell it. Then becuz he was a bad guy, he sent all his nucleer mistles to cuba which is near porto reeco where my family goes for vacayshun.

The guy that ran cuba was this guy named fiddle castro and he was bad too. Luckily, we put a bunch of pigs in their bay and they gave up and took all the mistles away. Someone got so mad that they killed jfkenidy and everyone got the day off from school. My dad said it was sad becuz kenidy was a cathlic like we are and nobody gives any dam respect to an irish cathlic, dam it. Then daddy drank a lot.

Know what else was bad? There was this guy called mCCarthy and he was in our goverment. He said that everybody was a "rooskie"� and a "cummie"� and he got a lot of people in trouble. He had a list that he wouldnt show anyone which is like when my mom gets me a present for Christmas but she wont show it to me till Christmas even thoo she got it after thanksgiviving. mCCarthy was a dork and noone liked him and when he was all like "˜the army has cummies in it.' They were like "˜no way, dork' and then nobody listen to him anymore and he drank himself to death like Mom says Dad is gonna do someday.

The cold wAR lasted a long time but nobody got killed even thoo it was a really bad war to have. It ended in 1989 which is when I was born which is why I don't have to hide from spudnick under my desk at skool. Rusha is still around and its way big too, but they don't have as many nucleer mistloes anymore. They have a king now named Poopin and hes not as mean as the old ones. They are all still poor too but we aren't becuz my famly has 3 cars and 2 dogs and a swiming pool.

By Gillian Pensavalle

Look around you, what do you see? The trees are bare, the girls have started to wear sweatpants to class and your skin is now featuring all your blue veins that your tan once covered. That's right, it's winter. "Oh no,"� you say, "I hate winter. It's so cold and nobody looks attractive anymore."� But, my friends, winter is so much more than cold fingers and pneumonia; winter also means Christmas break.

No doubt you've noticed that your "cool"� professor is trying to jam in all the material you missed when he was "cool"� enough to cancel class on that sunny day back in September. You've also noticed that the once empty library is a hive of activity as kids all try to out-study each other for bragging rights. "My test is gonna be so hard that I was in the library for 32 hours. Beat that, loser."� Yes, the semester is winding down but luckily I am here to make your last few weeks as enjoyable as possible.

To fully enjoy your remaining time before your three week self-imposed exile, listen up.

• Don't bother studying for your finals. Just take the test cold and test your "raw"� intelligence. That way you can see how smart you really are.


• If you do plan on studying for finals, make good friends with someone who suffers from ADD. They'll have plenty of smart-pills for you.


• If you have a significant other at school, express your wish to "take a break"� for the holidays. That way you don't have to get them a present and you can finally get with Christy Marcus who "was totally into"� you back in high school.


• Buy your friends at school one small Christmas present each costing no more than $3. Do not, however, buy any of your Jewish friends Chanukah presents"¦greedy bastards, eight presents? Are you kidding me? I'm not made of money, Saul.


• If you can't afford presents for your friends, try this: leave school a day early so they can't get all on your ass about how they bought you a "sweet funnel with your name on it, dude"� and you didn't get them shit.


• Use any minor illness, like a runny nose or a smoker's cough, to procure a take-home final from your professors. "I'm so sorry, professor, but I have a serious case of strep. I really should take the final at home so I don't get the rest of the class sick."� Works every time.


• If you are driving home for the holidays, find out who lives near you. When you've compiled a list, pare it down to the hottest three members of the opposite sex and offer them rides. You might actually feel cool in your 94 Jetta.
  
• If you're flying home, aren't you just so special Mr. I'm-so-rich-I-just-fly-all-over-the-place"¦jerk.


• If you're planning to get a Christmas tree for your dorm, make sure to do it quickly. Also, if you have a Jewish or Muslim roommate, offer to top the tree with a Star of David or the roasting corpse of an infidel so they don't feel left out.


• Make sure your frat's Christmas party is better than everyone else's. Make yours classy by insisting that all the girls invited wear respectable clothes, sing Christmas songs and try the roofie-nog"¦"�Ham-Bone made it himself!"�


• Unlike your family, where a bad present must be received with a half-smile and a fake "how did you know?"�, a bad present from a school friend can be thrown away in front of them.


• Immediately kill anyone who says, "Christmas sucks. It's so boring."� They cannot be allowed to pollute the Season of Greed with their nay-saying.

I hope these tips will help you in the hectic weeks ahead. I'll see you all in January, twenty pounds heavier and three shades paler. Good luck.

Every human contains two chemicals that are relative to their sex. Men have testosterone which is why we crush beer cans on our heads and scream at the television. Women have estrogen which is why they have breasts and go crazy when they turn fifty. Now, I have always assumed that I was in possession of a large amount of testosterone - I like to compete, I yell at people in my car, and I am generally pretty strong. I lack a vagina and working milk glands, so I figured that the chances of me being a woman were slim to none"¦never mind the whole "penis"� thing hanging down there between my legs. I was, in my own estimation, quite a man. However, there were certain aspects of my life that I didn't take into account.

No doubt many of you men out there are not as manly as you think you are. The difference between me and you is that I have a friend (Sharon) who takes endless pleasure in pointing out to me all the ways in which I qualify for womanhood. "Street,"� she says to me, "You are a woman"¦a feeble, wimpy little woman."� Maybe she's right, maybe she's not; I'll let you decide.

According to Sharon I qualify for honorary womanhood for the following reasons. I will list her points and then defend myself as best I can. For, if there is one thing I do not want to be, it is garbage man. But the second thing I don't want to be is a woman. After you have read the damning evidence and my sterling defenses, email me at suxatlife@hotmail.com and cast your vote.

Sharon's List:
1. I can recite, with inflections, lines from the Nicholas Cage movie "The Family Man."� This movie is funny and heartwarming. He learns that life is about more than money and power; life is about love"¦wait"¦that sounds womanlike. I mean"¦ummm"¦the chick in it is hot so I watch it a lot.

2. I like to be "little spoon"� when sleeping with someone. Well, I can't argue that, I do like being "little spoon,"� but my reasons for it are not as womanly as you may think. It simply makes it easier for me to fart on whatever girl I happen to be sleeping with. Then I go "Ooooooh, GOTCHA!"� and go back to bed. Actually, I just like feeling protected. Because I've been big my whole life I've always been the one doing the protecting. I just want to be held, is that so wrong?

3. I decorated my apartment with a passion normally reserved for Martha Stewart enthusiasts. I don't live in the normal "college"� environs. My roommates and I found ourselves a very large apartment that was completely empty. We were allowed to do whatever we wanted so we agreed that it should be done up classy. We argued over paint at Home Depot, we discussed the merits of candle sconces, and I even matched my carpet to my sheets and curtains. I just wanted to live in a nice place, not some dirty, beer-can-covered shit hole. Maybe the three hour argument over whether to go with "Anchor Blue"� versus "Harbor Blue"� was a bit much, but I am a perfectionist.

4. When I begin to feel sick, I go to the doctor with a quickness. Apparently, to Sharon, feeling sick is no reason for a man to go to the doctor's office. I don't particularly understand this one, but my Roommate, Tim, confirmed it was a womanly quality. "Dude,"� said Tim, "When I get sick, I just say "˜I'll be fine' and I walk it off. I never go to the doctor."� I just don't like feeling like shit so I have my Mom arrange for me to see my doctor in Connecticut where I get pills and syrups to cure me. Ok, maybe having my Mom make the appointment and traveling to Connecticut is a bit much, but let me ask you this: would you go to a doctor in The Bronx? I didn't think so. So, I guess what they are trying to say is that I am a pansy when it comes to feeling sick. Maybe I should be a "man"� next time a lay in bed for an extra three days?

5. I'm really bored of pictures featuring two girls making out. Please, let me explain. I used to think that looking at pictures of girls making out was the height of pleasure. But now, I just find them boring. If they're naked, that's one thing, but when it's just two girls kissing, I don't feel the thrill anymore. Maybe I've been desensitized because of the large volume of these pictures that collegehumor receives? Maybe I would just rather see it in real life? I don't know. But the fact remains that girl-on-girl kissing pictures don't really do it for me anymore.

So there you have it. Am I a woman or am I just a normal guy? I really don't feel that I am, or, if I am, that the majority of guys are as well. So, if you're a guy, try asking yourself if you have any womanly qualities. If you can't find any, ask a female friend. If she's anything like Sharon, she'll gladly spell them out for you. Drop me an email at suxatlife@hotmail.com and let me know, once and for all, if I am a woman or not. Now, I have to go watch "Love Actually"� and eat ice cream in my Jammys. Nighty-night nitght.

Dear Mommy,

Thanks so much for all you have given me over the years - believe me, I know it hasn't been easy. And, on this the day of my birth, I think you should get some thanks from your loving son. On this magical day twenty-two years ago you gave me life and I couldn't be more grateful.

It was tough for you from the get go. I know Dad was a big guy, but I'm sure you weren't expecting me to be a 72 Lb baby. And I'm sure it didn't help that I came out sideways either! Whoops! I'm sorry you needed that blood transfusion after having me but think of it this way, you'd have died without it and you'd never get to see me grow up. Whenever I look at the scar on my hip from where they cut away my conjoined twin, I thank you for choosing me to receive the pancreas and live. I know that was a tough choice for you and I hope I've done you proud.

I know that I'm in some way responsible for Dad leaving you and it's something I've always felt bad about. I guess he just couldn't understand that women need some time to lose weight after having a baby and that it would be impossible for you to "stop looking like a big fat pig"� two weeks after you had me. But I had a good childhood even without a father. Plus, from what you told me about Dad, getting "whacked around by the beatin' stick"� doesn't sound like a good way to discipline a child.

I was quite a handful when I was growing up, wasn't I? Between the trailer fire and the India-ink tattoos I used to give you when you fell asleep, I sure got into some mischief. I'm sorry you had to spend your black-market kidney transplant money on bail for me, but I really didn't light that lady's dog on fire"¦I don't care what the forensic detectives said. I'm sorry for all the trouble I got into back then but know that I never once stopped loving you"¦ even when I cut the brake lines on your boyfriend's Buick Skylark.

But there won't be any more trouble from me now. I'm a man now - twenty-two years-old, sober for almost three weeks and only five months left on my parole. Mom, you did a great job raising me and this day, though it is meant to be mine, really belongs to you. You were the one that put in the long hours teaching me to read last year. You were the one who was always there when I needed an alibi. You were the only one who believed me when the cops came to ask about that pipe bomb someone planted in school. Even though it's my birthday, it's you, Mom, who deserves the good wishes. I love you and I'll make sure to call just as soon as I'm allowed to use public communications systems again.

Love, your birthday boy, Streeter

Hey America, Lighten Up

Let me ask you a question; why are you here? I don't mean what is your purpose on this earth or anything profound like that. No, I want you to think about what set of circumstances led you to where you are. You could say a healthy diet and regular hand washing is the reason for your survival, but I want you to go farther back. Go back to your very beginnings; the very act that has put you on this earth. As unpleasant as it is to think about, the one reason you are alive today is because your parents decided to make you. Whether you were the product of loving parents trying to bring a child into their lives or a broken condom and a bottle of whiskey, sex is responsible for your life. Every single person from the homeless man with no fingers to President Bush was brought into this world by a man putting his - ahem - ding-dong inside a woman's - ahem - treasure chest. Keep that in mind.

Lately, the FCC has been fining a number of broadcasters for airing "indecent"� material. I won't even begin to discuss why the FCC's definition of "indecent"� is absolutely ridiculous; just know that it is loosely based on "contemporary community standards"�- a concept that can't really apply to America as a whole since we don't all live in one town. Oops, I talked about it. Anyways, the FCC is only doing what the public wants. You see, the FCC does not monitor the airwaves, they wait for people to file complaints then they investigate and decide whether to levy a fine. Now, the FCC has received over one million complaints this year alone, ten-thousand times the number they received five years ago. Clearly, Americans are being offended by something.

And what could that something be? Why, sex of course - the very reason each of these people has the ability to file a complaint. Mostly, the complainers are religious, born again southerners or Midwesterners who's political beliefs are (here's a shocker) conservative. Not normal conservative either, Hitler-style, book-burning conservatives that hate nothing more than sex, immoral behavior and "sinning faggots."� These are the people who want mandatory prayer in schools, harass people going into abortion clinics, believe teaching evolution is a sin and want to take a big, fat, Christian dump on the Constitution. In other words, they are the people ruining our country.

As a wise man once said, "Sir, I disagree with your opinion but I will defend to the death your right to be a total asshole."� I couldn't agree with this more. You want to burn the flag? Light "˜er up. You want to eat ice cream naked in your back yard? Dig in. You want to hate me? Go right ahead. You see, I can appreciate that people may have different opinions and pleasures than I do and I won't tread on their rights to indulge in them. It's our first, fundamental right as Americans. But the holy-rolling, Christ-crusaders in this country seem to disagree. Instead, they want to decide the standard for what is and what is not acceptable for Americans to see. This, truly, frightens me.

Do you want a housewife in the Midwest who believes that interracial couples are sinners and pre-marital sex is a one-way ticket to eternal damnation deciding what you can and cannot see? If it were up to these people, "Sesame Street"� would be the only thing on TV"¦wait, Bert and Ernie live together"¦they could be gay"¦forget "Sesame Street."� They claim to get all their morals from the Bible but last time I checked, Jesus didn't say anything about Janet Jackson's nipple. Plus, does anyone stop to think that the Bible may be a little outdated? When the Bible was written they were still feeding Christians to the lions - something I wouldn't mind doing to some of these people. The Bible also says "Thou shall not kill"� but these people don't seem to have a problem with that - look at how fervently they support Bush and his "let's kill some brown people"� policies.

All of this bitching and whining is done in the name of protecting the children. "The children can't see a breast on television,"� "The children must be protected from cartoon homosexuals,"� etc. What a genius disguise for these people to cloak their insecurities about anything foreign to them (i.e. fulfilling sex lives). If anything, making such a huge F-ing fuss about sex is destroying any chance a kid has to develop a healthy attitude towards sex. When you raise a child to believe that sex is bad, dangerous and something to be ashamed of, you are setting them up for a very boring, confused adulthood (not to mention some seriously disappointed boy/girlfriends in college). Sex is a beautiful thing meant to give someone you care about pleasure"¦even if it only lasts two minutes. Not to mention the overarching, undeniable fact that humans, in their natural and uncorrupted state, really, really like to have sex.

You know, I found out something amazing the other day. I was watching a television program ("Blue Collar TV"�) and I found it un-entertaining and just plain stupid. I didn't know what to do until one of my friends told me about this amazing invention. It's called the remote control and it saved me from watching Jeff Foxworthy and Co. make gravy/fat person/white trash/ butt rash jokes in an instant. All I had to do was push a button and it actually CHANGED the CHANNEL! It turns out that no one was forcing me to watch anything at all; I had the power to censor my viewing all along! What a wonderful invention. I wish the religious right would learn how to use one of these things. Then, instead of watching "Desperate Housewives"� or "The OC"� or some other ultra-offensive program, they can switch to something more befitting their personalities - like "Jews Roasting over a Fire - Live"�, "The Jesus Hates Fags and Un-Wed Mothers Hour"� or "Baghdad Gets All Blowed Up (Pt.2)."�

So, in closing, I would like to ask America to lighten the hell up. Stop trying to censor everything you find offensive - if you don't like something, deal with it. This is America, the LAW says that your opinion is no more valid than mine is. And, for God's sake (literally), stop using religion to forward your personal agenda - it's a perversion of something meant to set people free, not hold them down. To those of you who feel like me, if you find one of these people, punch them as hard as you can in the face because, as stated before, they don't have any problem with violence.