It is the Influence of the Music We Love

I get to go into work 2.5 hours late.  Even though that makes me happy, as does the song that just came on because it promotes clapping, I'm still gonna hate a little bit just for you.

Hate: Weak water pressure.  Apparently I just like painful showers, because a love of the past has been boiling hot showers, and now I'm hating on not having laser-like streams of water shot at me.  But really, the water needs to be pretty much knocking me over before I'm happy.  I don't feel clean any other way and it makes me really angry.  Also, when the water pressure is too weak, it's SO annoyingly difficult to wash shampoo and conditioner out of your hair.  I guess have a really low tolerance for this because my hair is actually probably one of the easier heads of hair to rinse, it's not curly or thick or long or anything,  but whatever, if the water pressure was up to par it would only take a second.  Anywayy, I like to spend the majority of my shower straight chillin, therefore I don't want any other thing to take up too much time lest the water temperature drop, THEREFORE the water pressure needs to be ridiculous to cut time on the dumb washing crap you have to do to a minimum.  The water pressure at my parents house is amazing, but when I stay anywhere else I totally judge them based on water pressure.  In conclusion, I will be pissed if you have weak water pressure.  Also if you have perfumed soap, but that's for another time.

So, thats my shower play by play, ha, onto the lovingg...

Love: When the love of my life, Yesel, who is a love in and of herself, hates the same things as me.  It is pretty common as we are very similar (hence the love of my life thing), but it makes me happy.  Also it justifies the fact that I have this blog in the first place.

Bye Haterssss,
theGrump

I Just Came to Say Hello

Hate: People who count the number of drinks they've had in a night.  Totally reveals your true douchebaggery.  I don't care if it's in your head or you make tally marks or whatever...stop trying to show off, I can drink your ass under the table, I bet you are a total pussy.  In fact, I know you are since you think it's number one cool and number two impressive to announce how many drinks you've had.  Also, if you can keep track, you clearly aren't in it to win it and need to step your game up.

I could go on...but I'm hungover.  Gotta drink up that coconut water.

Love: Susur Lee.  He was a chef on Top Chef Masters and was effing hilarious.  He was constantly dropping the f-bomb and getting totally out of control.  I also assume his wife is hilarious because of the way he talked about her.  On one episode he called her because he did a bad job in one of the challenges and was upset or something, and he said that his wife told him to, "shut the fuck up, stop crying and get off the phone."  Amazing.  Especially in his Chinese/Canadian accent.

Good god, Susur, you are amazing.

Ok bye,

theGrump

Whatcha Say

Hellooo, I'm procrastinating, but I'm going to do a short one.

Hate: Sarah Jessica Parker.  It's definitely another one of those things where I have a serious passionate hatred for someone but very few real reasons.  This happens sometimes.  I almost feel bad for these kinds of people, but then I remember how much I hate them.  I think the fact that so many people are obsessed with her makes my hatred even stronger.  I think she's wayy too jacked, kind of like Madonna.  Those anorexic yet somehow bulging old arms are terrifying.  Then there's the mole.  Ohhhhh, the mole.  It's like...I hate the mole, it's all I can concentrate on and probably the only thing in the universe that could keep my disgusted gaze from her freak alien arms, but I also really hate the fact that she got it removed.  You just can't win, Sarah.  Sorry.  It also bugs me that everyone like loves her clothing.  I'm not sure if its just the arms and mole making me biased, I mean there is a strong possibility that I've never actually seen anything she's wearing because I've been staring at them, but I just hate everything she wears.  PS, Sex and the City sucks.  Just throwing it out there.

Love: Speaking of fashion...love this site http://lookbook.nu/#more

:)

theGrump

Where's the Love?

As it is Valentine's Day, let's go that route.  I think you'll be surprised at my stance...

Hate: People who hate Valentine's Day.  They're are all mad about it being made up or some other bullshit, and I have just one thing to ask you...Who the fuck cares?  Yes, you could do the things you do on Valentine's Day any day of the year, but do you?  No.  We're busy kids and who gives a shit if someone assigned a day that forces you to acknowledge someone else?  It isn't even like I loove V-day, I just think it's stupid that someone would hate it.  What fucking retard hates a day that only brings good things?  You get money and candy and flowers and cards that say nice things about you, I'm just missing what is wrong with that.  And if you don't get these things, still who cares?  It's not like they're such amazing things that you can't live without them, they're just a plus if you get them.  Not to mention, since when do you care about a holiday being complete commercialized bullshit?  This is fucking America, everything is commercialized bullshit.  Do you really care about Jesus' birthday?  I really doubt it since apparently it isn't really  Christmas, but I bet you enjoy having a holiday and getting presents.  By the by, Coke made up Santa.  Do you really give a shit about the Native Americans feeding the pilgrams?  Nope.  You just are fat and want to eat and have a day off of work and have an excuse to hang out with your fam, and I'm cool with that.  The list goes on, but I bet you already feel like enough of a hypocritical dbag so I'll just end it here.

I know it's Valentine's Day and all, but I'm just not feeling the love tonight, ugh this is hard.

Love: My llama sweater I got for 6 bucks at goodwill.  It is magical.  It is the softest, warmest sweater and it isn't made of llama wool, it just has a giant picture of two llamas.  It. Is. The. Best. Purchase. Ever.   Don't feel like taking a picture, but you should be jealous.

Peace,
theGrump

You Show Me Yours and I'll Show You Mine

I forgot how much I love writing in this blog.  It's good for the soul.  Mine and yours.

Hate: Things touching my neck.  It is the worst feeling in the world.  Turtlenecks are mind boggling to me because I just do not understand how someone could just...have that thing touching their neck ALL THE TIME.  It really makes me judge people who wear turtlenecks because clearly there is something wrong with them.  Remember when chokers were really popular?  I was still in like middle school and trying to be cool and would wear them and be totally miserable all day just because I decided I had to wear the choker.  I broke tons just because I would pretty much walk around holding it as far away from my body as possible.  The topper of all things touching the neck however is definitely at the hairdresser when they put the smock thing on you.  They always put it on SO TIGHT!!  How can anyone deal with that?!?!  The thought of them coming at me with that smock is terrifying.  When I get my hair cut and they go to put the thing around my neck, I wait until they are about to fumble around with the button in the back, then put my finger in between my neck and the collar so that I have a good inch of room.  It was really awkward the last time I went though because she noticed that I did that and we had some awkward eye contact in the mirror where she gave me those "umm, whaaat are you doing" eyes, to which I responded, "I don't like things touching my neck..."  Really awkward.  But really, I knew she was going to do it too tight, I just took matters into my own hands.  Anyway, bottom line, HATE things touching my neck.  With a passion.

Love:  This video.  It starts off slow but gets totally amazing.  LOVE it. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zeoT66v4EHg

Love,
theGrump

Womanizer

Man am I on a roll, 3 days in a row what upppp???

Hate: Americanos.  I didn't even know what an americano was until I moved to Seattle, and I kind of hate that I know what it is now.  Contrary to what you may think, it is not spanish for an American, it is a kind of coffee, well I guess espresso, but I don't really want to get technical and this is already a run on sentence.  From what I have gathered in my lifetime, Seattle is supposed to be like the epicenter of coffee, I guess it's really just the birthplace of Starbucks, but I don't know, they like their coffee here.  Sidenote:  Seattlites hate Starbucks.  Other sidenote: all of the coffee places on my street except the stealthbucks recently turned Starbucks fucking suck balls so it fucking annoys me that everyone hates it because it's Starbucks.  There are tons of coffee places and people are so snobby about their coffee it makes me want to vomit all over their life.  I don't give two shits about coffee, it sucks.  It is bitter and not tasty and the caffeine doesn't even affect me thanks to my mom letting me drink all the Surge I wanted as a child.  Occasionally, for whatever reason, I like to have some (more like hot sugar and milk, but you get it), and more than occasionally when it's warm, I like to have some iced coffee.  Preferably Dunkin Donuts iced coffee, but there are no Dunkin Donuts in this godforsaken place.  ANYWAY, when I'm out and about in Seattle and I want my iced coffee...no one has drip coffee.  What. The. Fuck.  This is fucking Seattle, how can you not have drip coffee?  THEN, they have the audacity to be like, "is an americano ok?"  When I first got here, having no idea what an americano was, I was like ok whatever, how different could it be?  ROOKIE MISTAKE!    AMERICANOS ARE THE WORST!!!!  I did it a few times before I gave up and was like fuck this non-Dunkin shit, what the hell is an americano and why did this person think it would be any kind of replacement for my fucking iced coffee??  It is infuriating.  Now when I ask for an iced coffee and they ask me that ridiculous question, I say, "no, it is not ok" and walk out.  Because an americano is absolutely not ok.  This hate grew from americanos to include the entire coffee culture of Seattle, and I'm ok with it.  I pretty much love it.  

Love:  The last love made me remember one of my all time favorite Seinfeld moments because it too involves bananas.  In the episode of Seinfeld, when Elaine is on the subway going to the lesbian wedding and everyone else is on the subway doing various things, Elaine's train is stopped for some reason.  The car is super crowded and she's freaking out and the lights go off, you know, she's claustrophobic and people probably smell.  Anyway, they have her speaking what she's thinking so you can hear, and at one point she thinks to herself, "Maybe the train will start going in 5 seconds...one banana, two banana, three banana..."  I lost it.  Probably one of the funniest Seinfeld, nay, TV moments of all time.

<3

theGrump

Yes There is a War, it's Boys vs. Girls

This keeps happening to me and it is the worst, so I'm going to discuss it with you kids.

Hate: OK, so you know when you get on a bus, you avoid sitting next to someone at all costs.  Once every two seater has a person in it, then you can start doubling up, and not before.  Well, this hate is of that awkward time on the bus when you are sitting next to someone because the bus was crowded when you got on, but then people start filing out and double seaters begin to open and you are like should I get up and move to that seat or will this person be offended and I should just stay or are they just not thinking about this.  This has been causing some serious internal conflict lately, because I personally don't think it's all that bad sitting next to someone unless they smell or something, so if I do get up and move, generally it is because I think you smell, but I still feel guilty because for some reason I think you know what I'm thinking.  So a lot of the time I don't move to the open seat because I'm like whatever, I don't really need that much space and I don't want them to think they smell, but then I'm wondering if the other person is like why isn't this person moving to the open seat what is wrong with them, because everyone prefers to sit alone given the choice.  Yes, given the choice I would sit in a two seater alone, but once sitting, I just can't decide whether I should move or not.  It is the worst.

Love: Youtube.  What would I do without it?  I know this is pretty obvious, because who doesn't love it, but I just feel like people are spoiled by it and take it for granted now.  It is so sick.  I can sit and find hilarious videos forever.  Here's one of my favorites right now, mostly because I think bananas are hilarious...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KVflD6wITx0

LOVEEEE,

theGrump

Jump, Jump

I KNOW, I KNOW, it's been a while.  I'm a busy girl, but all you junkies are hounding me so I'll pick a good one.

Hate: Boston accents.  Hands down the WORST accent in the fucking world.  Seriously, the whole planet.  It is an absolute ABOMINATION.  It is in no way cute or sexy, it is so annoying in every way imaginable.  I literally cannot watch the movie Good Will Hunting specifically for one line said by Matt Damon in his horrific Boston accent, and not horrific in the sense that he does a bad job, but in the sense that any Boston accent is horrific.  Anyway, the line is, "How do you like them apples."  Seems simple enough, and yet...  TERRIBLE.  I cannot explain to you how angry that line makes me.  Boston in general is a pretty big hate for me, just because of their stupid one sided New York rivalry (Boston...no one in New York fucking cares, get the fuck over it), but the accent takes it to a whole new level of despisal, which isn't a word, but it's happening.  No one wants to hear you speak.  Ever.  Especially to complain about the Yankees.  Everyone hates the Yankees, it's old news, but hearing YOU say it makes me want to murder you.

Love:  Knocking on wood.  I love it.  I wouldn't say I'm really superstitious, but I knock on wood ALL THE TIME.  And just in case you were wondering the correct way to knock on wood, it is to knock three times.  Not two, not one, not four.  Three.  It really bothers me when someone knocks the incorrect number of times, so read carefully.

Sorry for the delayy,
theGrump