How Ugly- the long awaited hateration issue with a few last minute changes.

Inspiration from this post's title is twofold, One Female Canuck's reaction to some quotes in a recent Toronto Star article set off a tangential universe in my mind. Her reaction was to a a reader's comment- atleast I would define it as hate. Hence, it being ugly. Thats were my starting point lay, but I ended up muddled, angry and hating even more than before. Its just the stream of thought I was in and microwaves kept forming at the horizons and exporting their dubious thoughts to me, my friends, and the cat choking on its own fur.

I think I spent the whole day of Saturday with a perma frown on my face.. contemplating the darker, less humane and generally morbid extensions of everything around me. My friends.. some of whom I do hate. But who can blame me, I'm a hater. I hate out of spite as Nihau points out. But I think its a ruse by him to distract me from his looks (which ususally set my hateration in motion).

Yesterday was fun. Insomnia riddled conversations with people, chairs and the TV. Yes, the Leafs were playing and yes they did win. I got so lost in the accomapnying Chinese food though that I missed two goals and left a spring roll uneaten. My friend pointed out that kids in Somalia would be happy to have my spring roll. I had this to say.

(This constitutes the love part of this post. Not everything we do at EssentialUzi is self serving and all-hating. Making an appearance, The Boondocks.)

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.. fuck, after two minutes of searching I feel that the boondocks comic I wanted to post is no longer there. As in not on the net. Hmm. Now you see why I hate? Go to the bottom of this page if youre itching for a Boondocks hit. Enuough with the niceties..

Yeah, I'm a hater. I hate for no reason too. Guy got a new computer? Regrettable. New camera too? Asshole. I hate you. Simple. It comes naturally and it stays naturally. Part and parcel of being a Pakistani immigrant in Canada. You hate the taxes, you hate that the chicken and beef on pizza is not halal, you hate girls that show too much skin.. cuz it makes YOU uncomfortable. You hate your own damn passport cuz its as if you're making a statement to the world that you are a Cdn. citizen. Oh won't you please look me over and see if I'm worthy to be your countryman? You hate people with better language skills cuz they can show you up, and you hate people with worse language skills cuz you don't look better in comparison.

The truth is, you hate a lot. You hate not being able to pronounce your Vs. Or you Ws. But its all good, cuz your damn country is nuclear and ain't nobody hatin' on that. Except this Indian that dozes off next to you in an aroma filled Hong Kong delirium induced by hockey updates on the hour every hour for five hours before he went to sleep. He sleeps in his bed while you type stuff about him on his computer. This is called the hustla-hating. I hate you, now lemme stand on your back while I tell the world why you are a degenerate fool. From such a specimen, sporadic outbursts that end with "...summabitch bastard" and refer to Quaid-e-Azam are expected and even much appreciated as a constant reminder that he is alive and will look to garner more hate from you when he feels like it. Cuz he is Indian dammnit, everything at its own pace. Let the man sleep.

u-g-l-y we know how you got that way.. your momma...your momma... d-a-dd-y you don't even know the guy... Ok, I'll stop now.