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Five People I F*cking Hate

Being a twenty-year-old blogger with the acne of a ninth-grade-backup-cornerback-on-JVfootball, life is strange. It is undoubtedly a weird time to be a college-aged American as kids that I grew up with, who spent their middle school years reposting Lorde quotes on Tumblr ruin my Twitter feed by constantly voicing their political opinions. In the wake of people “breaking their brains” over Donald Trump, we have let things go unnoticed for too long. Certain people have become excruciatingly terrible to be around. I want to take the time to name a few folks that, through my lifetime, I wouldn’t mind seeing fall down a set of stairs, not to get too injured, just enough to satisfy the repercussions of their atrocities.


The Gifted White Athlete on the Basketball Team: let’s paint these scene. You get out of your 2011 Nissan Altima with a couple of friends and swiftly give Omar, who was a wonderful conversationalist, five stars. Upon walking into a high school party, you see him. Boogie With A Hoodie is on, his shirt is off, and Jesus Christ, it’s only 9:43 pm. Usually, with some simplistic name like Max or Mathew, girls all around you are recording him dancing. Girls want to be with him, he’s a fun time. He’s probably six-four and will go D3 after receiving two Division 1 offers as a Junior, and his Instagram captions are a fusion of Drake Lyrics and preposterous emojis that you believed people only used sarcastically. He dunked once, and everyone went apeshit, so did you, and you hated yourself for it because this kid SUUUUUCKKKS.


Suburban Moms in their Mid(to Late) thirties: I honestly don’t know where to start with this group. sixty% of the time, they’re the stepmom to that kid on your lacrosse team, and they have endless Vineyard Vines stickers covering their car. They check their Facebook religiously and inform your older, mom-who-has-given-up-on-her-happiness-and-her-marriage about effective parenting techniques, spirituality tactics, and of course, cleanses. They have been gluten-free since 2013, and while you and your buddies are drinking lukewarm Tito’s Andy’s older brother purchased you, she’s ripping apple cider vinegar juice shots. Whether it be vaccinations, new HBO shows, or anything on Yahoo’s homepage, this group ONLY articulates things that they have seen or heard recently continuously, and nobody wants to hear about it in the slightest, including her fifty-seven-year-old husband. Nice Ass, Though.
Anybody “Woke” Under the Voting Age: For the love of God, working at that summer-camp does not mean you understand America’s tax structure. And to the guys, we all see that you retweet planned parenthood in an attempt to get that handjob you’ve been longing for. Please go back to trying to engineer shitty bowls from beer cans and throwing rocks at each other like decent adolescents.

People That Make Too Big Of A Deal About Kamala Harris: C’mon bro. If I see one more yaaas queen tweet in response to this bitch doing nothing but walking, I’m going to freak out.


Alcoholic Dad’s Screaming at Their Third Grade Son
: Fresh off of signing his divorce and grossly hungover, this man is berating his unathletic child from the sideline. Given his inability to understand basic social cues, he is making a scene and making his son in left field incredibly timid. The team moms have an exclusive email chain in which they ponder calling DIFUS on this man more than they talk about who is bringing yogurt pretzels to the next away game. I understand this man has been unemployed for three months, and his life is falling apart around him, but please keep your child abuse off of the baseball diamond.


Popular Eighth Graders: If I could go back in time, I would choose not to see the signing of the declaration of independence, chill with dinosaurs, or even meet Jesus himself; I would punch my fourteen-year-old self in the face repeatedly. The fact that nobody did is honestly disgusting. Eighth graders are the worst people on the entire planet, and if we did not need them to keep the human race afloat, I would choose for them to be extinct. The girls are terrible to one another, and the guys are firing off Snapchats on a quest for cleavage. Nothing you do in Eighth grade will ever be cool or funny, and you honestly just make the kids who are going through an uphill battle with their mental health uncomfortable and inferior. Fuck me in 8th grade. Fuck you in 8th grade. Fuck your little cousin in 8th grade; case closed.

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Written by Bobby D'Angelo

TFM middle school penis game champion. Rutgers student.

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