Don't Make Me Hate You.

Because I do hate you. I hate you because you make me hate you. You're hate-able. You're stupid, retarded, and hate-worthy. You're forcing me to hate, and I hate you twice for that.

Drive that Camry of yours. Is it peer pressure, because you read somewhere that more sheep drive Camrys than any other non-descript foreign make? So you had to clip-clop your hooves down to the Toyota dealership and buy a new one? What a tool.

You have that cell-bud in your ear, but you're not talking to anyone. I know, the President of the United States is going to call you at any moment, and you may have to push the button on the nuclear football with your lightning reflexes.
Take it the frick out, so I can contemplate hating you a feather less.

Nice cell phone. You're texting in the fast lane. You're answering it at the gym, in the middle of a set. You're forgetting that the setting is on max so everyone gets to enjoy your stupid douche-hop ringtone at volume 11 at the movies. I hate you.

Wear your oversized sunglasses. The lenses are larger than a windshield on a motorcycle sidecar. What are you hiding? ... besides your hateable insecurity and childish inadequacy, I mean.

Um, can you please buy some pants large enough to hide your gut and/or buttcrack? I understand that you lost a few pounds/just visited the Eurotan/got a new tattoo on your ass. Just because you feel 10x hotter than you were last week isn't really a reason to show the rest of us your goods. Some of us did just eat.

I'm hating you on behalf of your children, who are just now learning to hate at age 3, while they're trying to eat the red vines you bought them for dinner as you dragged them into the R rated movie for the 10:00pm showing.

You created a facebook page for each of your pets. Then you had them friend each other. I hope they post a few status updates and photos of their food during the quiet week between the day you slip in the bathtub and the day your landlady discovers your half-eaten midsection.

Wow, you're down with the latest must-see movie/must-read vampire novel/must-love reality series/must-worship celebrity/must-follow championship team. Too bad that the latest thing is to hate lemmings like you.

I'm hating you through my clenched teeth as you tell me about your health problems. I can't understand you because you're talking with that donut in your piehole! Stop telling me how you wish you could get into shape, and start working your way out of the hole you're in.
And I'll stop telling you how I wish I could stop hating you, and start showing you a little respect. Deal?