He comes into Starbucks like he is something special and I know already he will sit across from me. There is nowhere else for him to go. I watch him order out of the corner of my eye and notice a lonely female also staring from the two-tops against the far bank of windows. I hate this man already. Whatever he orders (green tea frappichino, black coffee, skinny grande Americano, chai) will not be good enough for me.
And then, sure enough, he is lowering himself into the plush purple chair on the other side of the low coffee table. His hair is gelled and a little spiky, artfully mussed if you will, and his medium-long sideburns swoop into an acute angle just past the pierced lobes of his ears. His face is somewhere in between Don Johnson stubble and clean shavenness and his eyes hide behind gold-rimmed sunglasses. He doesn't look athletic but his arms are large and he's in good shape from working out. His body is meant to carry weight, however, and the obesity will come in ten years time, hopefully sooner. He wears black boots and designer jeans and a crisp black T-shirt that says "I Hate My Girlfriend" in blocky white letters. Just below his right elbow is a skinny black sweatband, the kind basketball players wear. It is an odd choice, but perhaps it works for him. Perhaps it is his little fashion signature.
He is attractive to women, this man, he is everything they desire. He has crafted himself to be so. He pages through a black Daytimer and fingers his cell phone, acts that code him as a businessman in spite of casual-hip dress. His muscly body is designed to convey athleticism and virility. His earrings connote adventurousness. His hair and clothes prove his sensitivity to fashion and aesthetics in general. His T-shirt shows he is a man of irony...and a little dangerous.
But the shirt irritates me. I am reminded of my college girlfriend D, who talked often about buying me a "Shut Up Bitch" T-shirt so that the rabid feminists of Evergreen would tear me limb from limb. She loved the shirt for its in-your-face misogyny and loved the idea of me being castrated by hypersensitive logger grrrls even more. The "Shut Up Bitch" shirt is hateful and unproductive but it's definitely more interesting than the "I Hate My Girlfriend" T-shirt. I don't get this shirt. I don't find it funny or ironic or anything, really. Surely he has a girlfriend. Or many. I wonder what she (or they) think about this shirt. I hate this shirt. This shirt is the worst. This shirt is retarded.
Here are some better options:
I Hate Poo
I Hate Barney
I Hate the Sharper Image
I Hate Clowns
I Hate George Will
I Hate Teletubbies
I Hate Line Dancing
I Hate Vomit
I Hate VHS
I Hate T-Shirts
I Hate Tip Jars
I Hate Lindsay Lohan
I Hate Laundry
I Hate Overcooked Corn
I Hate Ego
I Hate Comma Splicers
I Hate When Your Teeth Crash Into The Teeth of the Person You Are Kissing
I Hate Clan Ties
I Hate Starbucks
I Hate Hiphop
I Hate Fuckers Who Try To Merge Automatically On the Freeway Instead of Yielding Like They Are Supposed To
I Hate God
I Hate Waterbeds
I Hate Tapirs
I Hate Trucker Hats
I Hate Internet Dating
I Hate Pabulum Puking Liberals
I Hate W
I Hate Dumb Broads
I Hate Stoopid Jerks
I Hate Hate
I Hate You
7 comments:
Where can I order the "I hate Barney" t-shirt? (But the Teletubbies? C'mon. That's just plain mean).
It's overcooked corn that will kill you. Or at least be boiled to such and insipid flavor/texture that the little skins that end up between your teeth are indistinguishable from floss.
My favorite: I hate clan ties. I assume this is a reference to the clan tie I wore to work at Haggens for six years.
I like "I hate hate." Now that's some sweet logic.
The teletubbies one is not mean. The teletubbies are the most vile creatures on earth (well, among the most vile). But that baby sun does really scare me. I'd buy--no surprise--the I hate trucker hats one.
I too am scared by "Sun Baby." I wanted to feature him in my Wookie spoof of the Teletubbies, but became sick in the stomach at the thought.
I'm glad that "I hate oysters" was not on your list.
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