tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29689384458344633972024-02-01T18:52:35.950-08:00Fun Haters of the World UniteFun Haterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12271956470003756005noreply@blogger.comBlogger36125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2968938445834463397.post-14951769024852816302010-04-28T17:51:00.000-07:002010-04-28T17:55:53.451-07:00County Health Dept. Can Go Fly a KiteI had to get my second hepatitis b shot yesterday. Another $40. This is a three shot vaccination. I called around and this was the cheapest I could find it and had to drive to a sort of ghetto clinic in Chula Vista about 35 mins away. Now if I had been a drug addict, spent time in the slammer, had numerous sexual partners or been a homosexual (all questions asked of me at the county health building), I could have received the shot for $10. Nothing like playing by the rules and being a responsible member of society and getting the shaft for it. Thanks, world. Thanks for rewarding delinquents with affordable shots.Fun Haterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12271956470003756005noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2968938445834463397.post-16450446772218876592010-04-24T00:15:00.001-07:002010-04-24T00:16:04.516-07:00Cats are not fun<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzaS32q5qCsMu-5K3Xml5G9lYezWstzh3C1jAGbXr6YX6UzxsMMQoUh7-Z66hqlrm0kcZqypc93LO5i2DqWD6H17-iQaADyfnHtetOorV4o2E_dDcU8MopEkoMFZ56-5sOw6qvoCXKx3A/s1600/eddie+and+fatty.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzaS32q5qCsMu-5K3Xml5G9lYezWstzh3C1jAGbXr6YX6UzxsMMQoUh7-Z66hqlrm0kcZqypc93LO5i2DqWD6H17-iQaADyfnHtetOorV4o2E_dDcU8MopEkoMFZ56-5sOw6qvoCXKx3A/s200/eddie+and+fatty.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5463599368752774482" border="0" /></a><br />I know, they look cute. They're black and white. They're sort of kittens. One's fluffy and lazy and one is sly and curious. But let me tell you what I think of them--I hate them. My roommate got them because we found some mouse poo in one of our cupboards. Want to know who ended up catching the mouse? I did. Set a trap with some peanut butter and within about 45 mins I caught the mouse. We had the cats for months and they did nothing. Totally worthless. I tried to give them away on craigslist (my one roommate who got the cats got married, moved out and left the cats) and had about 10 people chomping at the bit to pick them up, but my soft hearted roommate couldn't stand to part with them. I want to kill them.Fun Haterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12271956470003756005noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2968938445834463397.post-33550404833011856162010-04-12T10:48:00.000-07:002010-04-12T15:55:51.165-07:00iPhone = iHate<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1zfMfSslV8OVoZyVzXuFIhcRguM7DoOeMNZ4ka1WyBq8IBM0msJHpqhR38Hu-8VN4qWIPzrdKCOArBDqe0DVxkE9Au0IzDUGjqPd5Rmqq2mgtVUtkRiCWgDvsthDtdZS5WQT65mDS4Ak/s1600/iPhone.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 271px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1zfMfSslV8OVoZyVzXuFIhcRguM7DoOeMNZ4ka1WyBq8IBM0msJHpqhR38Hu-8VN4qWIPzrdKCOArBDqe0DVxkE9Au0IzDUGjqPd5Rmqq2mgtVUtkRiCWgDvsthDtdZS5WQT65mDS4Ak/s320/iPhone.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5459315276085991826" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Many people find the iPhone Great<br />Yet sometimes it's something that iHate.<br />Yes it's convenient and it's handy<br />Is that why so many think it's dandy?<br />Or is it because they find you a bore<br />And feel their iPhone delivers so much more?<br />Maybe they've got a technology habit<br />I wish we could go back to the cuneiform tablet.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2Uei2lpx-0LpUGQrBhqTj4ehvNAip3Q36yODqh5jqsKl3Aa62nCN9BBrhC-hVjw-1_YVtUDEgg8vomLZBKwc8KvoTzcyrwY6-rnVU05ArdWlzLpcz1L2BItYj2iNKSZSLpdnkCmVf37g/s1600/cuniform+tablet.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 220px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2Uei2lpx-0LpUGQrBhqTj4ehvNAip3Q36yODqh5jqsKl3Aa62nCN9BBrhC-hVjw-1_YVtUDEgg8vomLZBKwc8KvoTzcyrwY6-rnVU05ArdWlzLpcz1L2BItYj2iNKSZSLpdnkCmVf37g/s200/cuniform+tablet.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5459315670459980738" border="0" /></a>Fun Haterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12271956470003756005noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2968938445834463397.post-14427993148451578412010-04-03T23:56:00.000-07:002010-04-04T00:06:09.063-07:00Dogs indoors at public places that are not seeing eye dogs make me furious<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjju9nubBtqBqaJirsW89BEEw8hZyZhH02OjsD0a_hCuCK1vmMRDkascmQmOMA0bHlODb1ObU4IpF9f0SDkmbjYNEVqAVF-dILi14U-BecffWoMqSobc58_C7nAnynYrnVZy_4V_Go4oq8/s1600/seeing+eye+dog"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjju9nubBtqBqaJirsW89BEEw8hZyZhH02OjsD0a_hCuCK1vmMRDkascmQmOMA0bHlODb1ObU4IpF9f0SDkmbjYNEVqAVF-dILi14U-BecffWoMqSobc58_C7nAnynYrnVZy_4V_Go4oq8/s320/seeing+eye+dog" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456174599625268370" border="0" /></a><br />Today I was at the mall buying some shorts. I strolled into Banana Republic because I had some lousy discount/store credit and what do I see once inside? Some guy in there with his little dog checking out clothes. Was this guy blind? No. What was he doing in the store with his dog? I'll tell you what, being a loser. If you're not blind and you're not at Petsmart, leave your dog at home when you go to a store. My word.Fun Haterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12271956470003756005noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2968938445834463397.post-80207036998386102792010-03-29T19:44:00.001-07:002010-03-29T19:51:03.884-07:00I hate FacebookI'm not going to lie. I hate Facebook. No one will ever convince me to join it. I don't care how many people say, "it's just an easy way to stay in touch with people," or "but you can get in touch with people you haven't seen in years." So what.<br /><br />If there's people I want to stay in touch with--I do stay in touch with them. I don't need to do it via Facebook. If I haven't seen or spoken to you in years, I'm going to keep that streak going. We've managed this long, we'll probably be alright. When we cross paths again, think about how much better it will be opposed to some lame posting on one another's wall.Fun Haterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12271956470003756005noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2968938445834463397.post-41246593905378288842009-10-17T01:18:00.000-07:002009-10-17T01:24:44.553-07:00I Can Even Hate on SurfingThe following is a text conversation with my friend Ryan about going surfing tomorrow:<br /><br />Ryan: Are you down for some early morning surf tomorrow? Pete and I are going for sure.<br /><br />Court: The high tide at 8:45am is going to kill it. It's going to be really high. It was awesome today around 2pm.<br /><br />Ryan: I have to be home at 12 noon. So is there anywhere we can go early?<br /><br />Court: It'll be good all over. It's going to be crowded everywhere. It'll still be fun but I bet tons of people everywhere.<br /><br />Ryan: Did I just text a rain cloud? Are you going with us or not?<br /><br />Court: I hate you. When? Where?Fun Haterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12271956470003756005noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2968938445834463397.post-34073942777904101322009-10-11T22:49:00.000-07:002009-10-11T22:56:11.608-07:00WORD<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLTojscfa0grB9jkAz4o3VyhnUCB1GL7pQGkOthvc4SEjWRQ4IWD8ZBLffi9kxuN25UwhsRyFPwq4wSOzRHwXKnXVHd3yY3ArdfpmX6WudzpRZa0Z6c35J4RWhVyyJJEZJZS7xqrzLtlY/s1600-h/wordlogo.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLTojscfa0grB9jkAz4o3VyhnUCB1GL7pQGkOthvc4SEjWRQ4IWD8ZBLffi9kxuN25UwhsRyFPwq4wSOzRHwXKnXVHd3yY3ArdfpmX6WudzpRZa0Z6c35J4RWhVyyJJEZJZS7xqrzLtlY/s320/wordlogo.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391586794788744194" border="0" /></a><br />No, Microsoft Word, I don't want your lousy help when making a makeshift outline. I want to put roman numerals where I want them. I want to indent as much or as little as I want. I don't need your input, nor do I want you to take control of my document--ever.Fun Haterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12271956470003756005noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2968938445834463397.post-7888578705200855432009-10-09T22:06:00.000-07:002009-10-09T22:23:00.849-07:00Vons and their stupid Vons Club Card<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAU4wXRp8BLRmfX_UEVdmnM1jI7dXbpIchplcYPpM_Ab5ZRqn8LZ3_FTBb4kqsLukmUqXY1SMBRlI3MbWcEVb4FQopE76-igxHzW0qHB3vO6vtXtYcz0BT_S_TknvjqDNscBjPS5SCrJQ/s1600-h/VonsBig.gif"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAU4wXRp8BLRmfX_UEVdmnM1jI7dXbpIchplcYPpM_Ab5ZRqn8LZ3_FTBb4kqsLukmUqXY1SMBRlI3MbWcEVb4FQopE76-igxHzW0qHB3vO6vtXtYcz0BT_S_TknvjqDNscBjPS5SCrJQ/s320/VonsBig.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390836849724372178" border="0" /></a><br />It's been a quite a while since my last post. There's simply no excuse for it and plenty of hating going on. What pushed me over the edge today? A trip to my local grocery store.<br /><br />Vons. I hate Vons. I hate their Club Card. I hate all club cards. All of them. How about this: not RIPPING ME OFF because I don't want to carry around one of your stupid cards? How about having a Club Card at the check out counter for when my phone number (that I submitted THREE MONTHS AGO) doesn't register that the clerk can just scan for me? Is that too much to ask? Apparently it is because the lame clerk (who I see all the time) wouldn't just give me a card (she was kind enough to give me another application though) and asked the guy in line behind me to type in his phone number. You'd think I was asking her for a kidney or something when I asked if she could just give me a card or simply swipe one. I'm done with you, Vons. Done.<br /><br />I got an idea for you, Vons. Why don't you change your slogan to Vons: Rip offs for LIFE.Fun Haterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12271956470003756005noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2968938445834463397.post-78269859764656062332008-03-24T19:48:00.000-07:002008-03-24T20:34:21.479-07:00Easter Croquet<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBsYBsykFasvmXU7opgmgwDZIBJC-FeZnrqIKAxHahyphenhyphena3a0L10vpGG5mqVxVtoU6WZoOhSR69QdSkO1I7WFxf_wz18ltLdxgcqPaXQuqIWaSu0XvlF-xquKIz4V2SIWLTWSWl80d4-aQk/s1600-h/DSC_0060.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBsYBsykFasvmXU7opgmgwDZIBJC-FeZnrqIKAxHahyphenhyphena3a0L10vpGG5mqVxVtoU6WZoOhSR69QdSkO1I7WFxf_wz18ltLdxgcqPaXQuqIWaSu0XvlF-xquKIz4V2SIWLTWSWl80d4-aQk/s320/DSC_0060.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5181513245077413826" /></a><br />I played croquet yesterday and came in last place. I hate croquet. But more importantly, I hate playing croquet with old men (a friend's dad participated) who look all sweet, kind and innocent (like this "nice old man" to the left) but who turn out to take their senior citizenship and pull one over on you.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9e_PCScohfOpJteShZPfaQ66yu7OwHlImlTdyXn6C_m7oxsSrkuKp2Nz1bvR5kzSsFnoopH85YRKXGgRDNZisJrYjK4xxnMsiA9zgXIR0w2O7RdWgECEkPjm-0HBSWDoxVWH57SR2zSE/s1600-h/croquet.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9e_PCScohfOpJteShZPfaQ66yu7OwHlImlTdyXn6C_m7oxsSrkuKp2Nz1bvR5kzSsFnoopH85YRKXGgRDNZisJrYjK4xxnMsiA9zgXIR0w2O7RdWgECEkPjm-0HBSWDoxVWH57SR2zSE/s320/croquet.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5181510019556974514" /></a><br />I attribute my loss to my second turn when I had the opportunity to launch this old man's ball into outer space but took pity on him because he, well, he looked like he could use a break. WRONG. The next time around he didn't even think twice about roqueting my ball down the hill and way out of play. It was a hit from which I never recovered. Lesson taken from this: don't trust "nice old men" and I can't wait to be old and stick it to people because your old age engenders sympathy.Fun Haterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12271956470003756005noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2968938445834463397.post-2790758703335404492008-03-16T20:03:00.000-07:002008-03-16T20:26:40.294-07:00From Mother, with Guilt<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGPR3wXOl7GCH7Bx4EYr1j2s6_ViINAqXPgKHlp3tVQoFjEjKZhsnOwvziFyyfufYLAXXgvbuJ7ooqgXnM8l6A3lZnM5_SUtaNQZo_AyR6_6BXrEMOa3uEbxgwHGzPlutvO_MGA0KUhEc/s1600-h/Appendix.gif"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGPR3wXOl7GCH7Bx4EYr1j2s6_ViINAqXPgKHlp3tVQoFjEjKZhsnOwvziFyyfufYLAXXgvbuJ7ooqgXnM8l6A3lZnM5_SUtaNQZo_AyR6_6BXrEMOa3uEbxgwHGzPlutvO_MGA0KUhEc/s320/Appendix.gif" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5178546315676496882" /></a><br />So last Sunday at about 3pm the lower right quadrant of my stomach area started hurting. Hurting enough that I laid in the fetal position for the remainder of the day and a continued so for a good portion of Monday. Fun. By the time Tuesday rolled around, I was feeling better but still somewhat discomforted by the pain. At that point, I made the mistake of telling my mom I was sick with what my roommate, a lady friend of mine and a few others with limited to no medical experience diagnosed as appendicitis. That was a mistake. <br /><br />I tried with no success to tell her that I did not believe that I had appendicitis. I figured that if I had had appendicitis my symptoms would have probably been much worse than what they were and at that point I was going to wait it out. MISTAKE. Shortly after explaining that I wasn't going to go to the doctor, she hung up on me. Thanks, mom. Soon after that, I get a call from my sister (telling me to go to the Dr), and two of my brother in laws inquiring as to my health.<br /><br />On Wednesday I still haven't made a Dr. appointment and my mom calls to tell me, "you can go and have your appendix out and spend one day in the hospital. Or you can wait for it to burst and spend 30 days in the hospital." Scare tactics...<br /><br />Then on Thursday, I get this email, "On another note: I am preparing a bed for you because I see in my crystal ball that you will be returning VERY SOON.....for home nursing by mother to recover from a burst appendix. It will take 6 months to one year and after you recover (if) you will be assigned to a family ward. I JUST CAN'T come to San Diego and be away from my cat and my personal computer. So just bear that in mind while you're postponing your Dr. visit. Love and kisses from your concerned mother." I am speechless. <br /><br />I bet you're all dying to know how this turned out. I'll tell you. It turned out exactly how I thought it would turn out. I went to the lousy Dr. on Friday only to be told that I don't have appendicitis but they don't know exactly what is causing the pain in the lower right quadrant. I had to pay $250 (high deductible insurance) for that one. Awesome. Thanks, mom. I love you too.Fun Haterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12271956470003756005noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2968938445834463397.post-49664965769974358122008-03-13T21:32:00.000-07:002008-03-13T21:39:33.350-07:00The Mailbox<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNYxI-JoZykEWJuSMmBTq8Gr9mUYn6mQeTbPRCdEZTw123VbkxUbmxJeTCEStbN4G8MCkuuPiiUMz-ZN0Eca8HZs3gXcC-ZVb-X4ZoE2x5OKPx6-vca5SMGwg5ssS-J9heAYEVRZwho2o/s1600-h/Money+Mailer.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNYxI-JoZykEWJuSMmBTq8Gr9mUYn6mQeTbPRCdEZTw123VbkxUbmxJeTCEStbN4G8MCkuuPiiUMz-ZN0Eca8HZs3gXcC-ZVb-X4ZoE2x5OKPx6-vca5SMGwg5ssS-J9heAYEVRZwho2o/s320/Money+Mailer.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5177450828433077218" /></a><br />Walked to the mailbox today and for some reason I gave the junk mail two seconds of my time, at which point I noticed the title on the post that said, "MONEY MAILER 'Like Getting Money in Your Mailbox.'" <br /><br />That's funny. The last time I checked I didn't take money out of my mailbox and <span style="font-weight:bold;">IMMEDIATELY </span> throw it into the garbage can like I would have normally done with this "money mailer" had I not been so upset by its title that I had to take a photo of it first and make a posting.Fun Haterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12271956470003756005noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2968938445834463397.post-61630553383755505892008-02-27T18:55:00.001-08:002008-03-24T20:37:39.782-07:00Pick Your Battles<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJW7eLK5XsS1bXRWvVPJRzVy8fj9DvSVKLxtBLzOjKj7uzPbUXCjwqBAJrco9s8dCjRS2DZGPNaK3cFlylyXWkw-kxOkpae-5QoF504V5oexp0RehJzVhvV-ryeLry6Q8QYFuKOJQWKIU/s1600-h/mtn+of+dishes.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJW7eLK5XsS1bXRWvVPJRzVy8fj9DvSVKLxtBLzOjKj7uzPbUXCjwqBAJrco9s8dCjRS2DZGPNaK3cFlylyXWkw-kxOkpae-5QoF504V5oexp0RehJzVhvV-ryeLry6Q8QYFuKOJQWKIU/s320/mtn+of+dishes.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5171859612465767954" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCWAZFQyqT_oGX-GGvHyBQ8bm6EyAn8wX5KmxdQOypM4QrKA88HJL1tf0bTaD-pji9F7fPdTkFzo2tSek15PC6LOH70iJGp6ghpNxf7qju2lYBgogYvxUu0mzO7r8uHqz0RpZdA44WzMc/s1600-h/mtn+of+dishes+2.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCWAZFQyqT_oGX-GGvHyBQ8bm6EyAn8wX5KmxdQOypM4QrKA88HJL1tf0bTaD-pji9F7fPdTkFzo2tSek15PC6LOH70iJGp6ghpNxf7qju2lYBgogYvxUu0mzO7r8uHqz0RpZdA44WzMc/s320/mtn+of+dishes+2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5171859625350669858" /></a><br /><br />There are two kinds of people in this world: those who do their dishes before they eat and those who do them after. Or a new twist on this saying could be, there are two kinds of people in this world: those who get their dishes from the drying rack before they eat and those who get them from their storage space/cupboard. It turns out that for the most part my roommates are the former. After putting the dishes away every day I decided I would just stack them as high as I could and see if I could create a Tower of Babel out of dishes that would reach the heavens. But my real plan was to stack them so high that getting a dish from the bottom of the pile would prove difficult enough that it might motivate someone to put them away. <br /><br />As I was taking this picture my roommate walked in and asked what I was doing. I told him of my plan and he said,"you're wasting your time." Later that afternoon my language was confounded for trying to build a tower to heaven made of dishes and then I needed a plate from the bottom of the pile and ended up putting them all away. Grrrrrr.Fun Haterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12271956470003756005noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2968938445834463397.post-58279100565433147392008-02-20T21:20:00.001-08:002008-02-21T15:23:17.142-08:00Lick Your Wounds......Candy<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNLbyeRBe4pDDphW1GFKus5YbXzAPY4WQQ1Ut9SQc0EEq01SzvM5WBMkFcYtw4DZ_bxVNAPG3J1xO770gUrOjpIDflb2QC0t1R3pjl0nTHq4ATVXyi4w7YS99uprY7N7oZhLYc76vHyF8/s1600-h/lick+2.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNLbyeRBe4pDDphW1GFKus5YbXzAPY4WQQ1Ut9SQc0EEq01SzvM5WBMkFcYtw4DZ_bxVNAPG3J1xO770gUrOjpIDflb2QC0t1R3pjl0nTHq4ATVXyi4w7YS99uprY7N7oZhLYc76vHyF8/s320/lick+2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5169299356690818546" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbdRaEvMm1l7bTHI8eW2Out8ACiZbATm0SW1mWis9TjbuEAYr5kKJqSnpjILKZ7rHaEugsZZdCoLkYZWFDXWCe2_72vh66PH85-UTQXsFb5LmlXv4tv4MKF3j6LBwFJG16lK8u3N_3v3k/s1600-h/lick+1.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbdRaEvMm1l7bTHI8eW2Out8ACiZbATm0SW1mWis9TjbuEAYr5kKJqSnpjILKZ7rHaEugsZZdCoLkYZWFDXWCe2_72vh66PH85-UTQXsFb5LmlXv4tv4MKF3j6LBwFJG16lK8u3N_3v3k/s320/lick+1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5169299356690818562" /></a><br /><br />This might be the most disgusting candy idea known to man. I guess it's designed for those crazy elementary school kids who need their sugar fix during class but can't get it because eating candy during class is against the rules. No worries. Somebody has come up with a clever way to get around that rule. Have a candy that looks like a band-aid with a sugar coated "wound." Sick. Who thinks of things like this?Fun Haterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12271956470003756005noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2968938445834463397.post-36423206962553124922008-02-10T22:46:00.000-08:002008-03-24T20:35:47.779-07:00My Transaction Sh*%I sincerely dislike paying upwards of $2.50 at times to use another bank's ATM. Furious. If my mom still reads my blog (fingers crossed that she doesn't), I'm going to catch some heat for this post--even though it's "edited"and I'm 30. My life...<br /><br /><object width="425" height="355"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Bqxnm6t3QMw&rel=1"></param><param name="wmode" value="transparent"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Bqxnm6t3QMw&rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"></embed></object>Fun Haterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12271956470003756005noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2968938445834463397.post-59514561816219069402008-02-03T23:54:00.000-08:002008-02-04T00:23:28.966-08:00SUPER BOWL = SUPER HATEThe Super (lame) Bowl started today around 3:30pm. Church didn't get out until 4pm. I was invited to a get together at a friends house and thought it would be perfect--I'd get home from church, change clothes and then head over to Rob's to eat some food and catch the last half of the sporting event, which I didn't really care all that much about anyway but whatever. All was going to plan and with about 20 mins of game left on the clock, my roommate tells me of another party happening down the street with a crowd a little more single friendly. Anyway, I say goodbye to Robert and all his married friends and leave with the score showing the Patriots 7 and the Giants 3. <br /><br />We walk in to the next house, extend a cordial greeting and as I sit down to look at the score I notice that it's Patriots 0 and the Giants 0. I'm bit confused for a second and then that's when it hits me--I've just walked into a Super Bowl party that's been Tivoed--and we're watching it from basically the beginning. Somebody shoot me now. <br /><br />Trying not to be too big a fun hater, I bite my tongue and next thing I know I'm asleep, which is good. I wake up and walk outside and call several people in an attempt to kill some time only to return with 4 minutes still remaining. Can this game end already... <br /><br />Finally at around 9pm the Tivoed game is over. For someone who doesn't give a rip about the Super Bowl, I endured about 5 1/2 quarters of it today for a grand total of around 4.5 hours--about 4 hours more than I planned. Great. Hours of my life I have lost forever.Fun Haterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12271956470003756005noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2968938445834463397.post-21301210702186478932008-01-28T08:55:00.000-08:002008-01-28T10:16:45.667-08:00FURIOUS HATEI know the feeling all to well of "furious hate." I experience it every day. Read this article from Slate Magazine that my cousin sent me (thanks, summer). I only wish I had submitted a comment regarding furious hate. I did go see Cloverfield the other night and one of the trailers for the movie "Skid Marks" produced red hot fury/furious hate. I have caught myself thinking/composing a letter in my head that I'd like to write to the movie company/executives that created it. I'm not joking either. After reading this article, specifically the part that said, "furious hate gets results," I am going to write those donkeys and give them a piece of my mind.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.slate.com/id/2171623/"><b>ADS WE HATE/FURIOUS HATE</b></a>Fun Haterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12271956470003756005noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2968938445834463397.post-69579530962330393442008-01-27T09:00:00.000-08:002008-01-30T23:42:00.486-08:00Kids These DaysThe other day I went out and helped my roommate do some advertising for his window washing business. This consists of punching a hole in a glossy flyer, inserting a rubber band through that hole and then hanging it on the front door of some unsuspecting individual's home. Pretty easy work. Anyway, I'm walking down the street minding my own business when I see potential trouble up ahead--teenage kids walking home from school. <br /><br />As we approach one another a thirteenish kid with a mop top hair cut yelled at me, "hello." To which the I don't reply hoping to avoid giving him any attention. Well, this doesn't work so hot as the two girls he's with start laughing. Wanting more attention he said, "hey, what are you selling?" This time I can't ignore him and I said, "Window washing. you want to buy some?" He replied, "no, but can I have one of your rubber bands?" Wanting this interaction to be over as quickly as possible I said, "Sure but don't hurt yourself." He said, "ok". I hand him the rubber band and two seconds later I hear him scream out in mock pain, "Ohhh. Ouch. Thanks a lot for giving me that rubber band." <br /><br />Damn kids.Fun Haterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12271956470003756005noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2968938445834463397.post-6819907552376751702008-01-14T23:30:00.000-08:002008-01-14T23:45:29.365-08:00Dude, I don't hate these.I can't decide which "dude" moment is my favorite. Just when I think one is the best, I laugh at another. These few I find particularly enjoyable:<br /><br />Basketball<br />Football<br />Guy butting/cutting in line<br /><br />A very close second is when his roommate walks across in his underwear and the near car wreck.<br /><br />I have watched these probably 15 times. I laugh every time.<br /><br /><object width="425" height="355"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/WmFBOVZ6BLM&rel=1"></param><param name="wmode" value="transparent"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/WmFBOVZ6BLM&rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"></embed></object><br /><br /><object width="425" height="355"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/MBmzWP-yBA0&rel=1"></param><param name="wmode" value="transparent"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/MBmzWP-yBA0&rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"></embed></object>Fun Haterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12271956470003756005noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2968938445834463397.post-72949756299493754702008-01-04T23:15:00.000-08:002008-01-04T23:26:42.335-08:00Worst Movie of My LifeMy roommate rented a movie called the Last Legion. Do all or yourselves a giant favor and NEVER in your life watch it--EVER.<br /><br />I really wish I were watching this instead: <a href = "http://www.apple.com/trailers/miramax/nocountryforoldmen/trailer3/"> NO COUNTRY FOR OLD MEN</a>Fun Haterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12271956470003756005noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2968938445834463397.post-1261669182211397282007-12-31T12:30:00.000-08:002007-12-31T14:17:45.611-08:00Video GamersI'm guessing there are a few people who read this blog (probaby only about 7 actually read it) who play video games (Dave Bagger is an occasional reader and I know that Will's dad bought a Wii for Christmas and that Will and Dale will likely play it considerably--even though Will claims to HATE PC Gamers). So in true fun hating style, for all of you who will pass the time having fun playing your new games and game consoles, just enjoy this clip from South Park. <br /><br /><object width="425" height="355"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/7Pq6-QbbRD4&rel=1"></param><param name="wmode" value="transparent"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/7Pq6-QbbRD4&rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"></embed></object>Fun Haterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12271956470003756005noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2968938445834463397.post-13670527115700229472007-12-24T23:50:00.000-08:002007-12-24T23:56:08.545-08:00Good Material ComingFellow Readers: I have received at least THREE complaints (Billy, Will and Jenny) about my lack of posting. If three people have expressed their disappointment, I can only imagine how many more concerned fans I have. There must be at least nine.<br /><br />Don't worry. With the little hiatus I took from the blogosphere, I have been collecting quality material and will unleash after all this joyus merriment of Christmas is over. <br /><br />Stay tuned. Posts soon. I promise.Fun Haterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12271956470003756005noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2968938445834463397.post-87363935529458751502007-12-03T16:44:00.000-08:002007-12-03T16:53:49.517-08:00A Week OffI'm sure I've disappointed many of you with the lack of posting over the past week. The Christmas season is upon us and I've been a bit distracted by taking it all in. I hope to get back on track. <br /><br />This photoshopped image of a friend magically appeared in my inbox last week. You're going to have to click on the link to see it. I really don't know what to think about it. I am at a loss for words. Click here: <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgULD9GIZImTLa5LsUfKVAkRwpBf9qsrUby-JGWnn5OYv1Jq9nBjqQYeFBUNTP0ehzOB1TakqUOEl0ZkaF7-AkRSEQf6HeKUqMOD-lmT_itd9MWjvbMxmmVjeffMrZVbPzATZaRz_bVYBg/s1600-h/-2.jpeg"> MS. ROGER'S NEIGHBOORHOOD</A>Fun Haterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12271956470003756005noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2968938445834463397.post-86268340973655181112007-11-26T08:25:00.000-08:002007-11-26T08:39:31.317-08:00A Fun Loving Weekend and a Restless NightLet it be known that fun occurred this weekend. Friday night I hung out with my buddy Travis (see previous post). Saturday night I went out to eat with Travis, his gf, and her friend Ashley. Fun was had, even though I felt like a zombie. Sunday night there was some dessert party that I attended (sort of lame). Several people said, "hello, Court" and I didn't have a clue who they were. Not a clue. One girl came up to me and said, "You're Court. I've heard you're really funny." No clue who she was. Never said two words to her in my life and didn't recognize her from Eve. So, I just would like all of you who claim that I hate fun to realize that I spent the weekend taking it out and chopping it up. <br /><br />One more interesting note. I sleep on a California King mattress. If you're not familiar with those, they are about 20 feet by 20 feet. They're enormous. I can sleep length wise of width wise and my feet don't even come close to hanging over the edge. Honestly, 4 or 5 people could sleep comfortably in the bed at the same time. Anyway, last night I turned out the lights and I was sleeping with my head pointing towards the west and my feet towards the east. When I woke up, my head was facing north and my feet facing south. What on earth? I had turned a full 90 degrees. I don't know if that's ever happened. I don't recall having a crazy dream or anything like that. Just decided to to a 90 degree turn. Or who knows, maybe I did a 270 degree turn???Fun Haterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12271956470003756005noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2968938445834463397.post-88206357946741409422007-11-24T08:01:00.000-08:002007-11-24T10:12:35.486-08:00NEW YEAR'S RESOLUTION BUT EARLIERSo I was discussing many a topic with my good friend Travis Sudweeks yesterday. Travis is one of the most positive people I know. When he's in a trough and I'm at a crest, his trough is probably still above my crest. Curse him. Anyway, he suggested that I get the positive thoughts flowing more regularly and draw on the power of optimism and confidence instead of negativity and cynicism. <br /><br />As a result, I am turning over a new leaf. Check it out: <a href="http://yoamofun.blogspot.com/"> ¡yo amo fun!</a>Fun Haterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12271956470003756005noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2968938445834463397.post-38200527084080296902007-11-20T18:10:00.000-08:002007-11-20T23:11:42.081-08:00Best Email Reply of the Day from Narwhal Co. AnnouncementSo I sent out a mass email to about 250 people from my contact list yesterday announcing that <a href="http://www.narwhalcompany.com">NARWHAL CO.</a>was officially online. As a result, I received many a reply. However, there was one in particular that took the cake. Please enjoy.<br /><br />"you're a genius court. I might have to buy some of your paraphenelia for that fire fighter guy who was dating that blonde girl sherry who lived next door to us and worked at golds, where I once was foolish enough to ask her out, at which point she shot me down, stammering something about a chemistry test, which I knew to be false, because while the girl was a fine piece, there was nothing between her ears except for air, which is what attracted me to her in the first place, carnal man that I was, yet to conquer the flesh. but I do like how you've gotten green, even though I live in texas, meaning I consume a lot of fast food (I do) and emit much pollution into the air (I do) and don't give a second thought to it (I don't). personally, I think environmentalism is annoying, unless the person who espouses it is truly down with nature (in a camping kind of way), which you are, so I'm cool with that. these city dwellers, however, who wouldn't know a campfire from a hole in their ass, I have no patience for their fashionable environmentalism, their hybrid cars and what not. sheep I tell you. manufactured consent, I tell you."<br /><br />Awesome.Fun Haterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12271956470003756005noreply@blogger.com0