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I hate the sound of styrofoam squeaking.
And I hate Tom Cruise.
Kinda the same thing.

Scott P

Other than the traffic, how was the rest of the trip, Mrs. Lincoln?

I hate closed minds, and cooks who prioritize expensive ingredients over great preparation.


I hate it when my hands are wet and I reach into the ice cube bin and the ice cubes stick to my hands. Claustrophobic hands. Ick.


I HATE it when we do not have good bread for toast in this house. hate it, hate it, hate it. Tom Cruise is up there, too. Styrofoam coffee cups are heinous! And I hate it when I don't have a team to root for. Freaking GU. And yes, I hate the signage of I294, too. It sucks. (sigh) I don't even feel better. No damn good toast.

Rob. B

I hate wine snobs, art snobs and music snobs. If you enjoy it enouh to learn about it ou should want other people who don't understand it to grasp why you like it?
I hate summer in Houston.
I hate my neighbors lawn of weeds that I constantly battle on the fringes of my lawn.


I hate downtown cabbies with a passion.

by the way

"Loving Chicago is like loving a woman with a broken nose"

-Nelson Algren


I hate:

Lazy students.
Redundancies like the above.
Incessantly barking dogs.
Flying away from people I love.
Paper cuts.
Getting up early.
Paris Hilton.
Not having enough time to read all of my books, even if I quit my job and read 40 hours per week for the rest of my life, and even if I got to live to the average of 72 years.
Oh, and I hate the end of spring break.

But I love that Gail put this post up so I can see what people hate.


I hate butter that looks tasty and fresh but has been left in the fridge without proper cover for too long so it has a layer of dried out yucky butter on the outside and then it tastes bad.


You know how when sometimes, very early in the morning, you find yourself freezing in your front yard in robe and slippers picking up slimy garbage that a bear has strewn in a 20-yard circle all around your knocked-over polycart with the locked lid ripped off?

Well, I hate that.


And swinging out of bed first thing in the morning and stepping firmly into a tepid glop of cat puke that squeezes up between your toes? I hate that, too.

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