I HATE! Men with Long Fingernails

Good Lord! This is one of the more revolting trends I will discuss on this blog. Long fingernails - when too long - are disgusting on both men and women, but when men have overly-long fingernails, it's really f-ing gross. It really is truly disgusting. And what I can't figure out is WHY men would need long fingernails in the first place. Long fingernails are considered to be a predominantly feminine trend, no? The only reasons a guy would need long fingernails is if a) he is a coke-head and uses the long nails to do bumps when no key can be found, b) he doesn't own a nail clipper and adamantly opposes biting his nails, or c) he keeps them extra long for back-scratching purposes.

Let me assure you, this entire line of questioning runs through my head every time I walk into the deli across the street from my apartment because there is a particular cashier there who has ONE (as in singular) LONG PINKY FINGERNAIL. Jesus, is it gross. I kind of squirm and / or cringe every time I catch a glimpse of the mutant nail touching whatever I am purchasing on that particular day. I try to look away as he is bagging my groceries (ok, usually it's just beer, but still).

Admittedly, I may be slightly bias on this issue, however, as there was once a fellow I knew who really wronged me, and HE had slightly over-the-length-limit-for-men fingernails. I will freely admit that because I really detest this fellow and loathe his name and any memory I have of him, that this clouds my judgment on the long-fingernails-on-men issue. But still - I cannot believe that I will ever be able to locate a woman who finds this offensive practice attractive or enthralling. Thoughts?

P.S. I really wanted to post a picture of Freddy Kruger (because he has really-long, albeit metal, fingernails), but my computer had a brain fart and wouldn't allow it, so I posted the above photo instead. Just imagine that fellow touching you with those nails. Enjoy!

I HATE! Rat Tails

First of all, I know it's been F-O-R-E-V-E-R since I've posted anything, and I apologize for that, but I am consumed with my second point, which is that I can't believe I hadn't thought about posting on rat tails before now!

Seriously, I will go into epileptic shock if rat tails make a comeback. No need to be alarmed - I have no official confirmation that the rat tail is on it's way back in. The possible re-insertion of the rat tail came to my attention yesterday as I was casually strolling home from brunch - I was walking behind a very well-dressed Asian fellow - one of those uber-trendy skinny-jean-wearing kind of guys. I was admiring his well coordinated outfit and impeccably-coiffed hair when I noticed the rat tail - it was pretty hard to notice, as it was partially hidden by his popped collar, but still, there it was: a miniature pony-tail seemingly blooming from the base of his pretty standard man haircut. Instantaneously, all of my previous admiration went out the door. The rat tail is a deal breaker. Done deal. No going back.

I think I have such a problem with the rat tail because I was exposed to way too many of them as a child. Let me explain: I grew up in a very progressive and liberal (and to my dismay, kind of hippie-ish and granola-y) neighborhood and I am not joking when I say that almost every little boy I saw running around the 'hood was sporting a rat tail. Seriously, I gag a little every time I see a rat tail - whether it be on a little granola boy or a trendy Asian guy - the rat tail conjures up images of Birkenstocks and white people with dreadlocks and grossness. What is the appeal? It's not even a practical haircut! That tail could get caught in an escalator or in a revolving door or a car window. Impractical and dangerous! AND do you know how easy it would be to cut someones rat tail off without them even noticing (a scenario I have definitely contemplated on numerous occasions)?

Maybe someone could explain it to me because the only thought that comes to my mind when I see a rat tail is U-G-L-Y!

P.S. There is also something a little white-trash about a rat tail (see photo above), which obviously, does not improve my opinion of the hairstyle.

I HATE! Being Puked On

Ok - so this is kind of an unusual (and rather gross) post, but I'm going to go ahead and discuss it at length anyway.

A few days ago, I was having some much-needed catch-up with one of my best girlfriends and, although I'm not sure how we veered off track into a conversation about throwing up, we ended up sharing stories of adventures in puking. Yes, that's right - puking, specifically being puked on.

If you're giggling to yourself right now, please stop; I have some very serious stories of regurgitation to share with you all - ones which will hopefully convince you, my captive audience, never to allow yourself to vomit on another human being.

Have you ever been thrown-up on? No? Well I have, twice to be specific, and let me tell you, it's not an experience I'd wish on too many people (maybe just the ones who I really really hate). The first time I was puked on, I was an innocent middle schooler, attending my very first live concert without my parents. (And it should come as no surprise to you that the concert I got puked on was Dave Matthews Band.) Let me just assure you that I don't actually like DMB (I hate it when people use this abbreviation, by the way, but the band's name is simply too long to spell out repeatedly), but I was offered free tickets, so I went. Who could refuse that offer?

Well, I'll tell you why I should have declined - I got majorly puked on. The scenario played out like this: I was on my feet in front of my seat, awkwardly clapping to the beat and attempting to pretend like I knew at least some of the words to the songs. There were a few rowdy guys behind us, boozing it up and being loud. Clearly, I was peeved that these guys were being raucous and was trying my hardest to ignore them, but all of a sudden, I hear a weird sound, like a gasp escaping from someone's throat. In the next second, before I could even turn around to give the fellow behind me a dirty look, my BARE shoulders were being covered in a lovely layer of VOMIT. It must have been projectile because the guy behind me was at least 5 feet behind me. Seriously, that's what happened, and you'd better believe I ran out of there so fast, I think I left a trail of exhaust in my wake. Didn't even stop to flip the puker off or give him my best 'i hate you' death stare. Believe me when I say that his was truly one of the more disgusting experiences I had ever been privy to. Until...

Yes, there is an 'until'. Several years later, when I was in high school (and when I thought I was God's gift to the world), I was at a friend's house for a mini-party. I had come to the party and brought another 'friend' with me - one who was younger, male, and not as bad-ass as I thought I was. The catalyst of this story is that I was being a bad influence, trying to make my younger male companion drink copious amounts of peach schnapps - clearly a BAD IDEA. After more fun and more drinking, we finally settled down for the night - me on one side of the couch with my younger male companion on the other so that my back was facing his front, but in extremely close proximity. So we're just laying there, trying to fall asleep, when all of a sudden, i hear a noise (yes, another noise) coming from behind me, like a frog rising in his throat. This time, I knew what was coming, but couldn't move out of the way fast enough to avoid that telltale spray. So lo and behold, in a few seconds, there was regurgitated cheese steak and peach schnapps all over my back. Absolutely awful - let me assure you. Needless to say, I spent the rest of the night in the bathroom, using the shower hose to clean vomit off of both me and my drunken companion.

Sorry to be long winded, but I think you get the gist of my two tales - don't puke on other people. It's not cute. Actually, it's fucking gross. I can't even stand to be in the same room with my own puke, let alone someone else's. If you feel you're going to ralph, and you're in close proximity to other, turn your head, aim for the floor, or run toward some form of trash receptacle. Quick thinking on your part could save someone years of pain and suffering. Once someone throws up on you, you're pretty much forced to throw away the clothes you were wearing when the incident occurred. And everyone knows I don't like to part with any of my clothes...

I HATE! People Who Wear Sunglasses at Night / Inside

New York is filled with people who think they're God's gift to mankind. The city is pretty much the narcissist capital of the world. We have wannabe actresses, wannabe models, wannabe fashionistas, wannabe literary-types... the list goes on. And in a city where the majority of the population is completely self-absorbed, there are bound to be those people floating around who consider themselves to be way more important than they actually are.

And this brings me to my most recent pet peeve - people who wear their sunglasses inside or at night. Correct me if I'm wrong, but aren't sunglasses usually used to block the harmful rays of the sun from damaging the delicate, yet absolutely essential organ called the eyes? And doesn't the sun usually go down at night - that is why it's called night, right? There is no sun. And no sun means no harmful UV rays. So wouldn't it make logical sense to not wear your sunglasses when there is no sun, and therefore no UV rays? The logic here is flawless. No one can argue with that.

However, on a daily basis, I see New Yorkers walking around at night or inside with sunglasses on! As I have just proved, it doesn't make logical sense to wear your sunglasses at night or inside, but people do it anyway. Why? Because half of New York thinks it's too cool for school and by wearing sunglasses when unnecessary, people seem cool, mysterious, and important. Or at least, they think they seem cool, mysterious, and important. In actuality, they just look idiotic when they parade around in the subway or in Starbucks wearing big dark glasses.

I think that because New York is so celebrity-obsessed (and because there are so many celebrities living here) that the common people come to the conclusion that wearing sunglasses when not appropriate will signal to others that you're some sort of celebrity. Wearing big dark glasses during the night hints that you don't want to be seen or recognized. You're literally hiding your face. And this tactic often works for celebrities, who really don't want to be recognized and draw any attention or a crowd, but for regular folks? It just makes you look like an f-ing douchebag. And don't fool yourself - no one is going to think you're a celebrity because you're wearing sunglasses on the subway when you're A) taking the subway (celebrities don't usually rock out on mass transit and B) you're wearing You're not as important as you think you are. Get over it and take off the f-ing sunglasses.

I HATE! Birkenstocks

You have no idea how long this hatred goes back. My earliest memory of Birkenstocks is seeing my crazy aunt wearing them constantly - Summer, Winter, Autumn, and Spring. She always had Birkenstocks on - no matter the season or the weather. And perhaps, since this particular aunt of mine is a little granola-y and most certainly was a hippie earlier in her life, I began to develop a negative connotation toward Birks.

First of all, I want to clarify which particular style of Birkenstocks I am referring to here. I am keenly aware that Birkenstock makes many different styles of shoes, most of them I find unoffensive and many of which, my mom actually wears. I am referring to the original Bireknstock style that I have featured below.I hate these! And I will admit that the reasoning behind my hatred is a bit odd, but nevertheless, I am steadfast in my convictions. There is something about this particular style of shoe that seems dirty - maybe it's the brown suede the shoe is often made from. It just screams 'I attract dirt, foot sweat, toe jam, and anything else that I can pick up while walking around!' Ick! And there is something about how the Birkenstock displays the foot that totally grosses me out. It doesn't cover any of the toe - it displays the entire thing. Whole toe is not sexy - especially not hairy toe. And this brings me to my next point.

Men should never ever be wearing Birkenstocks! Unless you want to look like a 13th century Medieval peasant, please choose alternate footwear! I am not a huge proponent of sandals for men in general, but let it be known that the man in Birkenstocks gives all men in sandals a bad name. They're simply not acceptable footwear for the male specimen. Period. I will not argue this point. It is fact.

And, I was trying to be politically correct and not offend anyone, but frankly, the real reason I hate Birkenstocks is because they are hippie attire. The remind me of unwashed, white people with dreads, playing guitar and singing in green pastures. Maybe I'm just an asshole, but the hippie is generally not one whom i aspire to be like. There's just something about Birkenstocks that is so reminiscent of hippie-dom. And that grosses me out. Sorry.

I HATE! Muscle Tees

It's been a while, I realize, but I really think that the Prozac is preventing me from becoming enraged as easily and as often. Modern medicine's a wonderful thing, isn't it? Although it considerably cuts down on original content for this blog.

Anyway, I was sitting on the train this morning as it pulled into the 14th Street Station, when a unremarkable-looking fellow boarded and sat down across the aisle from me. There wasn't much about him that caught the eye, so I quickly gave him the once-over and went back to my book. But then... I noticed something that made my blood boil - a feeling that I haven't been privy to in quite some time; the man was wearing a muscle tee! A muscle tee! A muscle tee! Excuse me, but I don't recall travelling back in time to 1985.

To be clear, there is no excuse for wearing a muscle tee. Some, including my own father, may argue that muscle tees are 100% acceptable while working out at the gym (or in his very unique case, worn while working out, but on top of a second fully-sleeved tee shirt), but I remain firm in my opinion that muscle tees are vomit-inducing. I can't pinpoint exactly what is it about the MT that drives me bonkers, but I suspect it has something to do with the high neck / no sleeves combo - truly offensive!

Women should never wear muscle tees. And to be fair, I'm not really complaining about women here; it's more of a male phenomenon. Sans sleeves, a tee shirt, AKA a muscle tee, reveals hairy man armpits. I don't want to see your hairy man armpits - working out or ANYWHERE ELSE! Hairy man armpits are not attractive. If I could somehow convince the world that men should also be socially required to shave their armpits, I would.

Another point in the CON column would have to be the fact that the muscle tee, with it's ripped (or cut-off) sleeves, is strikingly white trash. Sitings of muscle tees conjure up images of trailer parks, pick-up trucks, Marlboro Reds, 40s of Olde English, and toothless guys named Bo. This statement is not intended to offend - I'm sure there are plenty of upstanding citizens residing in trailer parks these days, but you know what I'm trying to say here. The muscle tee belongs far from New York City streets.

(Note: I found the picture above on a website called GreatGuyGifts.com - I'm going to pray that the site doesn't get a lot of traffic. We can't afford to have any guys walking around looking like that. And really - what guy would wear that shirt?)

I HATE! An Update

Ok - I don't hate updates, I just wanted to give an update on a post I made a couple weeks ago. Remember how I was ranting and raving about celebrities thinking being a celebrity qualifies them to design a line of clothing? And remember how I was almost pushed over the edge by the news that faux-celebrity Perez Hilton was awarded a clothing line of his own? Well, as it turns out, I wasn't the only one who was appalled by the thought of the jolly green (or blue, or pink, or whatever horrid color hair he has this week) giant being given license to 'design'. See link below.

http://nymag.com/daily/fashion/2008/06/no_one_wants_perez_hiltons_clo_1.html