Who do you have it in for?

Robin Williams; how did unfunny mugging become a career? Infuriating.

The network guy I used to work with. He would get on my work computer and poke around when I would leave our office to do a job (I came back and found him there one time. He gave a look that was clearly the, “Uh oh, I’ve been caught” look before trying to tap dance around the issue.). He also decided all on his own without any direction from administration and no notification to me, to implement a policy of keeping me from accessing web-based e-mail while others had no such policy. I finally had to complain to management to get that issue resolved.

The guy is a backstabbing snake in the grass and every time I see him, talk to him or even just think about him, I have to fight back the urge to beat the living crap out of him.

Who? Me? Bitter? :slight_smile:

Wow, you sound like me, with Amy. Maybe I should come to Paw Paw and we can have coffee or something.

A girl I’m involved in student government with. She’s 29 (older than most of us, thoiugh not to a significant degree - the biggest spread is between her and me, and I’m 22) and has token work experience, so she tries to be in charge all the time. During Senate meetings, she acts like she owns the place playing the “life experience” card and generally acts as if she’s babysitting all of us.

She also wears cutesy pink outfits, writes in big bubbly script (including “THIS ROOM SUCKS!” during one meeting, when she was unhappy with the layout of the room - on the chalkboard, with a triangle-and-circle exclamation point and a wavy underline), and complains that she’s “cranky” after having candy in the afternoon.

Brutus…shodan…manny the list goes on and on.

Except for duffer…he ain’t brutus you know.

You gotta love someone about whom the most complimentary thing you can say is: “He ain’t Brutus”.


I agree with all of these, and add:

George Bush.
John Kerry.
Hillary Clinton.
My stepdaughter. Except that’s not an unreasoning dislike.

Michael Savage, of “Savage Nation.” This insane, egomaniacal, arch-conservative radio show host makes Rush Limbaugh look like a self-deprecating pinko intellectual.

My ex-girlfriend April. May she burn in hell for all eternity.

Joel Schmacher. Two shitty Batman movies, a piece of excrement about a sniper and a phone booth (gee, I can’t recall the name, but it was the most imaginative part of the movie), and now Phantom of the Opera. Stop, dude. Please…just…stop. And on that note:

Andrew Lloyd Webber. Everything I have to say about this guy has already been said here. Whose brilliant idea was it to allow Schumacher to direct Webber-based material? At the very least, the ad campaign should have read: “When two of the universe’s most powerful hacks unite…do you dare to discover what unfathomable horrors will be unleashed?!”

Whomever introduced the “No Baggy Pants” law into the Commonwealth of Virginia’s legislature. I don’t wear baggy pants, so the thing won’t affect me, but come on. I mean…COME ON. You REALLY couldn’t think of anything better to use your lawmaking status on than illegalizing plumber’s crack? I’d say that’s as good a sign as any that you need to be relieved of your position.

Michael Jackson. I DON’T CARE ABOUT HIM. “Today, charges were filed against Michael Jackson for…” Don’t care. click * “…and the latest on the craziness that is the Jackson trial…”* Don’t care. click “…another shocking press release from Jacko’s publicist…” Don’t care. click “…seen here in a two-year-old picture you’ve seen 25,846 times, Jackson holds a baby over…” Dammit. Okay, fine. [turns off TV, fires up computer, AIM startup screen appears] “Read the latest on the Michael Jackson trial!” Son of a BITCH. [closes AIM startup screen, logs onto Dope, opens Pit]" I can’t believe it; Wacko Jacko does it again!


That Walton’s guy, Richard Thomas. Dang, if I don’t hate John-Boy.

The woman who played Bob Newhart’s receptionist. You know, the one with red hair and loop earrings who looks like a great big woodpecker.

Dick Van Dyke since his hair turned white.

Alan Alda.

Kenny G.

The guy with shades who hawks guitars on QVC or HSN? Estaban?

That woman who sells makeup on QVC…what’s her name? Adrien Arpel? She has those big, fat, silicone injected lips and slurs her words like she’s drunk…

Jerry Springer.

Nick Clooney (George’s daddy). A pretentious asshole if there ever was one.

Susan Sarandon (God, if she sure ain’t full of herself.)

Donny Osmond.

That runty lead singer from the Beach Boys. The one who wears a hat all the time. What’s his name?

The prom queen.

My ex-husband, his ancestors, the fruit of his loins and their children until the end of time.

Roseanne Barr.

Charles & Camila.

Well, at this particular time, I have it in for Kevin Harvick in the 29, who took out Johnson, the 48, in the twin 150 qualifiers at Daytona. Yep, Harvick learned well from Dale Sr., but that was chickenshit.

Harvick has been gaining a rep as an asshole on the track.

Jimmie will still win on Sunday tho.

Me too! I have nothing against the man, I enjoyed Kill Bill and his other films. I just hate his face.

Kobe Bryant. First, it was irrational. And then there was the rape charge–I don’t hate him because of that, I hate him because it was all the local news would cover! They had people outside the court house “Nothing happened today…but it might tomorrow.” They would cut into regularly scheduled shows to show us walking into the court room. And THEN he completely dismantled the Lakers ,which pissed me off because that’s not what fucking team sports is supposed to be about. He’s a fucking prima donna and I hate, hate, hate, hate that man. He’s the embodiement of everything that’s wrong with basketball, as far as I’m concerned.

Michael Bay: for his shoddily edited movies and his willingness to pander to the lowest common denominator mentality.

Sean Astin: that’s right, little annoying hobbit-boy. Never been able to stand him as he comes across as smug and self-aggrandizing.

Yeah, ya gotta hate ugly people.

That guy that burning my dog like a motherfuck with the intensity of a 1920s style horrible blimp with pie, g-d damn it.

Word. On one hand, I really want to listen to Billy and Dom on the LotR commentaries, but on the other hand, listening to Sean Astin makes me want to drive spikes through my ears. Why, god?

The guy in two of my classes this semester. He’s that guy. The middle-aged guy back in school, who’s just. So. Damned. Earnest. And not at all bright.

The North Carolina Tarheels.

George Lucas.

Uwe Boll.

Kanunu Reeves.

Natalie Portman. My current SO went to high school with her, back when. Ask his buddies- they’ll tell you all about his crazy hijinks trying to get her attention, and how absolutely wild about her he was. And when I first met him, about three years ago, he couldn’t shut up about how wonderful she was- not stuck up at all! So NICE! So beatiful! So incredibly talented! And so BRILLIANT! Going to Harvard! If only he was still at MIT, he might still run into her… How could someone be so beautiful and so lucky and so smart and so nice, all at once?

I am not a jealous person. Other girls he’s liked, girls who hit on him now… I might tease him about it, but no problem. But Natalie Portman? The very mention of the name makes me gag in revulsion. Utterly irrational.

Oh yeah. And Ichabod Cane, the head of the morning show of the local country radio station, which my carpool adores. He is incredibly anti-intellectual (we’re just folks, donchaknow, we don’t know any of that high-falootin big word stuff…) and glurgy beyond beleif. If I never have to hear another inspiring story about the dedication of our troops…