the dislike button

There are a few random things that I dislike.  Greatly not care for.  Don't like.  Or despise.  And even hate.  To put it strongly.

For example, I dislike hotdogs.  Or perhaps, I don't care for hotdogs.  Is it fair to place such a definitive opinion on a "flesh popcicle"??  I never have liked their "looks".  Never have had a "taste" for them.  And if you do like hotdogs, I am sorry for my opinion ... however, you most likely did not grow up with my brothers at the dinner table discussing the hotdog innards. 

Another dislike, root beer.  However, I do like its name.  Especially the beer part.  Root -- tolerable.

Fart.  Hate this word.  Who still uses this word over the age of 40?  UGH.

Gossip.  Is gossip really necessary coming from people well above the age that it began in their life?  I mean, really, why is it so important to continue gossiping after college graduation?  Perhaps, your resume interests include:  "Gossip artist from the age of 10.  40 years later and still participating.  Master of skill."

The southern belt "I'm a Christian" speech.  We all know at least one soap box orator?!

Messes.  Well, I believe I am getting over this trauma ... I have to ... especially with the majority of residents under the age of 10 living in the same space. 

Call-waiting.  Do you really need to see who is calling?  Or is this just a polite way to "cut the conversation" shorter than usual.  Hearing the "beep" on my phone just gives me great anxiety.  But I let it go and I really try to concentrate on the rest of our conversation.  Even if I am still wondering who could be possibly calling me at this exact moment??

Neon colors.  They're baaaaaaaaaaaack!  The neon was not attractive in the 80s trends so why do the trendsetters think the 21st century adorned in neon is going to be any more appealing?

Saggy pants.  Need I say more??  Well, yes ... why is the USA the only country with this hideous trend? 

"TWITTER MAKES YOU LOVE PEOPLE YOU HAVE NEVER MET
AND
Facebook makes you HATE people you actually know."

Enough said...

Hot Dog!

It's a pig! It's a pet! IT'S ... a real cooked hot dog! AND I survived Vietnam on "HUDA" beer.

My claim to fame: I have never eaten a hotdog... the All-American kind or otherwise. I despise the looks of them. I hate the name of them. I detest the shape of them. The idea of eating a flesh popcicle is revolting. Forget about what they are made out of - fillers. What are fillers? Intestines? Gizzards? Cartilage? The shit you find in the insides of a turkey at Thanksgiving? UGH.

Needless to say, I am not a healthnut freak. I don't count fat grams. I ignore the idea of heart killing trans fats. It's not just because I don't know how to cook a hotdog. It's just I don't and won't eat hotdogs. NEVER. EVER.