How To Hate

Shut Up, Just Shut Up, Shut Up

Just because you think you’re the smartest, hottest, funniest piece of shit on earth doesn’t mean you are or that anyone else agrees that you are. 

Your stories are not so funny that strangers needs to hear. You’re not so witty that anyone else gives a fuck enough to be forced to hear it. If you’re not in a bar or a restaurant or any place remotely social enough that you’re allowed to shout like we can’t hear you over the bumpin’ music, then you’d better shut your face.

Clearly you don’t have friends for you to vent your pent up social needs because you’re just a dumbshit, loudmouth, arrogant group of entitled dicks. So sorry but I’m not sorry that this is the only time you can feel like you’re cool enough that your stories matter.

Just realise that when you’re in public with your coworkers or group of people you’re trying to impress, laughing and shouting like you own this shit, you might want to consider keeping one eye over your shoulder. Because I’m right behind you ready to light your fucking hair on fire if you don’t shut the fuck up.

I Will Be Hating You for Christmas

                                      

I don’t hate Christmas, I only hate you

I hate the endless cheery music that rapes my ears and crushes my soul

I hate the crowds in the stores, it’s called e-commerce you assholes

I hate that you wish a Merry Christmas to me when I’m a Buddhist Jew

Don’t you lie, how much would you hate me if I were that stupid too

I don’t hate Christmas, I only hate you

—-

You better believe Jesus hates you too, his birthday’s in the spring

Even if it was in December you would go to hell for celebrating

Since all you do lust for crap and tell your kids to idolize

A gluttonous man who breaks into homes and has a creepy glint in his eyes

I don’t hate Christmas. I just hate you.

—-

So to all you idiots, enjoy your Christmas cheer

Light up your houses with those dumb plastic reindeer

Pretend that god loves you and but already I can tell

I’ll be dancing circles around you while we burn in hell

I don’t hate Christmas. I just hate you.

Nice Guys Finish Last

I recently started a new job. Still in Manhattan, still in advertising, still realistically mean. I’m actually pretty pleased with it. It’s in a great location close to home, I get a desk by a huge window and the benefits are pretty spectacular. I just have one problem:

Everyone here is really really nice.

It’s not really like that’s a bad thing. People were welcoming, asked me about myself and were actually seemed glad I was there. But they’re not even the kind of nice I can make fun of; it’s not annoying or intrusive, it’s not loud or persistent, it’s just good old fashioned niceness.

I’m so annoyed.

Before, I was just mean. Now I’m the MEANEST. It’s almost like that South Park episode where Kenny was taken into foster care which made Cartman the default poorest kid in school. Here’s a sample conversation (keep in mind that I’m trying to be nice in my new environment):

Co-workers: Does anyone use Open Table?

Me: Oh yeah I had a rep who tried to use it but she was saying you couldn’t specify which location to reserve a table at if there are more than one. She ended up going to the one uptown. It was a mess.

Co-workers: That’s weird you should be able to specify.

Me: What a dumbass.

Co-workers: (Laughter)

Me: (Mild shock and confusion)

At any rate, it’s been really exhausting learning my new accounts, people’s names, responsibilities AND trying to be nice enough to not get fired all in the first week.

I’m a dark island of mean in a shining sea of nice.

But honestly the only thing I need is this: if you ever catch me being kind in a situation in which I would normally being a blazing bitch fire, please for the love of god, punch me square in the nice.

• Emiry: i dont know what to draw
• BShimmy: a dentsu media picture
• Emiry: well its hard to draw a black pit of nothingness
• BShimmy: i imagined the depths of hell
• Emiry: ok thats fun
• BShimmy: unfortunately i dont have a red crayon
• Emiry: worst hell ever
• BShimmy: its ok ill just color with my bleeding heart

Word To Martha Stewart

I randomly just attended a taping of The Martha Stewart Show and decided I love her.

For her crafts segment, her guests were four young sisters who have a craft blog and my new hero relentlessly made fun of them for the following:

(a) their names for all starting with J. The youngest was named Janae and Martha asked her parents if they got tired of naming and just started making them up. Amazing.

(b) one of the sisters for implying that braiding her hair was a craft

She was actually really nice about the super weird and useless craft they taught her (gluing glitter on dried slices of citrus. I can’t even talk about it)

Although I loved that she immediately called out that someone put out the wrong kind of knives for slicing the fruit. I’m 100% sure that someone spent the remainder of the show curled in the fetal position, rocking back and forth in the corner. Even I’m kind of worried I’ll have nightmares of Martha chasing me with a paring knife.

What really sealed the deal was that she has a dirty mouth and cracked jokes during the cooking segment (making sausages. need I say more?)

All in all, you’ve won my cold and unfeeling heart Martha. It’s yours to decoupage.

(Source: marthastewart.com)

Cant Make A Sound

Sometimes there are people whose voices are so terrible and offensive that it actually makes your soul climb out of your body and shank that person with a make-shift knife carved from one of your own ribs.

Oh hey wasn’t that how Eve was made? I guess that explains why these awful people tend to be girls.

When these monsters with sounds for voices are annoyingly cute it actually makes me feel really bad that god decided to fuck them like that. But that tends to only last until they open their mouths again and I attempt to shorten their lives with my laser eyes of irrational hatred. Its all I can do to refrain from covering my ears shouting LA LA LA LA.

At least if you’re cute I have something to look at.

The worst though, (and this is when my dark and evil joy really comes out) is when these people’s faces are as horrifying as the noises they make.

I can’t even feel bad about it.

You’re destroying me with how much of you is offending me.

Some terrible, ironic god made it really challenging for the world to like you.

Its hard to describe what the noise is exactly that makes my face crumble into pieces and shatters every molecule of my being.

It usually ranges from something like:

(a) When everything you say ends with a drawn out question maaaark? And I feel the barely controllable urge to punch you in the throooaaat? Would you by any chance happen to be from Lon Giiiilaaaand?

to

(b) Ear shattering shouts as though you’re walking past construction or the subway just arrived and if you were writing the way you spoke YOU WOULD NEVER HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT IF A WORD WAS CAPITALIZED OR NOT. Lord help you if you’re in a fancy restaurant with this person.

But listen, it’s one of those things you can’t change. You can’t wake up one day and decide to speak like a human. Do us all a favour and tape record yourself, play it back, and let your own soul throttle you with your personal horror.