Love to Hate

So here are a few things that I don't like, and I'm totally okay with that.

I love to hate:

1. Television. Ick. If you love "reality TV" that is totally okay with me, but don't expect me to watch it with you, or even be able to take part in a conversation about it. I have never watched American Idol. Or The Biggest Loser. Or, for that matter, The Office (except once, and it was funny, but not change-my-schedule funny, or buy-TiVo funny) or 30 Rock. I just don't do it.

2. Chocolate cake. Husband has threatened to have me tested for serious genetic disorders, but I'm totally going with it. I can bake one, and frost it, and serve it on pretty plates, but I'm not eating that. I'll save my calories for something smothered in butter, thanks.

3. Twangy Country Music. I probably don't even need to explain this, but I had a friend in High School - we called him Bonzo. As in Bonzo Beans. That wasn't his name. But he was this absolutely magnetic guy. People loved him, and cops didn't give him tickets (ever) and he was just the kind of guy you wanted to give money to, you know? And he loved country music. The twangier, the better. For him (because I was not-so-secretly harboring a mighty crush) I listened to, learned, and sang many, many of the twangiest songs in the history of music. You and me going fishing in the dark, lying on our backs and counting the stars, where the cool grass grows. Barbecue chicken in aluminum foil, just enough money for my gas and oil. (Those sound like they could be from the same song. Maybe they are - I've forgotten the finer points after all these years.) I'll start walking your way, you start walking mine - we'll meet in the middle 'neath that old Georgia pine; we'll gain a lot of ground when we both give a little, ain't no road too long when we meet in the middle. Now the race is on and here comes Pride in the backstretch, Heartache coming to the inside... And, lest we forget, Lord, it's hard to be humble when you're perfect in every way - I can't wait to look in the mirror, cause I get better looking each day. Oh, and I've got friends in low places where the whiskey drowns and the beer chases the blues away. But wait - there's more. Here's a quarter, call someone who cares. See? I gave a goodly portion of my soul to that boy and his music, and after all these years, I can do all that with no help from a single internet search engine. Yikes. Bonzo, still love ya, man, but your music bites. That's alls I'm sayin'.

4. The picture book "Love You Forever" by Robert Munsch. Do I need to tell you why? Let's just leave it at Stalker Mommy scaling a wall to peek in the window at her middle aged son and his wife, sleeping in their bed. (*Shudder*)

5. My favorite picture books made into mediocre movies. 'Nuff said? But hey, if anyone wants to make a horror movie out of "love you forever" I'll be there for auditions.