I wrote this because I feel like there's something therapeutic about telling people a bunch of crap that I hate. Maybe I can better myself eventually and learn to let it go. Don't worry, I wrote the opposite list as well. I'll put it up later this week. Until then, here's this:
1. My brother's car. It's a great car, but it's ugly. Least it's black.
2. The phlegm I hack up every morning.
3. Lady Gaga.
4. My feet.
5. The taste of drugs.
6. Baruch College's Vertical Campus.
7. The bugs that live in mom's shower.
8. Christian Rock.
9. While we're at it, organized religion.
10. Self-inflicted cigarette burns.
11. The foam at the bottom of my bottle.
12. My crooked right wrist.
13. The Osiris D3.
14. My dad's bald spot and what it's going to mean for me.
15. The bar downstairs from me that vibrates my bed with its house music.
16. My mishapen, discolored left big toe.
17. Moms who think they're cool.
18. My bleeding gums.
19. Vicious dogs.
20. Back-stabbers.
21. Cops.
22. Sunburns, which I always get.
23. Safety equipment.
24. Sunday morning anxiety.
25. Eye boogers.
26. The cracking noise my ankles make with every step.
27. Swelbows.
28. The time I got chlamydia was pretty ugly.
29. UFO pants.
30. Every girl I ever loved one year later.
31. Decaf coffee. What gives?
32. My English professor.
33. The sandpaper texture on my thumbs.
34. Cockroaches.
35. 80 cent margarine purchased at...
36. ...C-Town grocery stores.
37. When tattoos fade from black to green.
38. Scars on my legs.
39. The bus I wrote this list in.
40. Times when I lack a spine.
41. Losing scratch off tickets collecting on my sidewalk.
42. Young cynicism (mine).
43. Rejection.
44. Crack addicts' teeth.
45. Port Authority Trans Hudson: everything about it.
46. Hard-boiled eggs.
47. My best friend's Leukemia.
48. Mel Gibson's bigotry.
49. High Fives don't look cool.
50. My 360 flips.
51. The Dept. of Motor Vehicles.
52. Green, NYC cocktail puddles.
53. Muscle magazines.
54. When Ambien doesn't work.
55. Ronson Lambert's style.
56. The fact that I genuinely care about this.
57. Caldors department stores. Glad they're dead.
58. Pushing mongo, which I used to do for the first 2-3 years of skating.
59. The time Mike dropped a telephone on my eye and it swelled up black.
60. My complete indifference to the homeless.
61. The way some men treat their women.
62. The way some women treat their men.
63. Having a continent of separation between you and the ones that matter.
64. Pot-induced anxiety attacks.
65. Post-ecstasy fevers.
66. John Rocker. Remember that dude?
67. The day when Christmas and birthdays become just another day on the calender.
68. Nazis.
69. Zombies.
70. Politics.
71. The mole on my neck.
72. My obvious vanity.
73. My starvation for affection.
74. Wet socks/wet shoes.
75. Hands free cell phone conversations.
76. The smell of uncooked bacon at Paradise Deli. Fuck those guys.
77. Knowing that the people making my sandwich in Subway are making fun of my in Indian and not being able to do anything about it.
78. People who don't tip the shampoo boy.
79. MTVs Teen Mom.
80. Pornography models from 1990-the present.
81. Blood stains in my bed sheets.
82. The scum-stache I have at this time of writing.
83. The shoes my mom bought me and insists that I should love.
84. Kanye West sunglasses.
85. My yellow teeth and bright white legs.
86. The arrogant prick in my Black Studies class.
87. Summer roadkill.
88. Waking up alone. Fearing I'll die alone.
89. Wine hangovers.
90. The penis that some kid at Culture Shock drew on my leather jacket.
91. The Dave Matthews Band and the Counting Crows. Burn in hell.
92. Hot Topic and mall skate shops.
93. White people with dreadlocks.
94. Black people with blonde hair (except Rodman).
95. Women in baseball caps.
96. My old neighbor, Mrs. Biederman, who threatened to call the cops at every band practice. Her entire family is a joke.
97. Turtleneck sweaters.
98. Turkeys.
99. Watching all my friends leave school weeks before I even have finals.
100. Walking outside the subway station with 200 sleepy zombies every morning.
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