Those Slate Eyes. Eureka. Lord Have Mercy.

I hate how Chris DeBurgh is known for 'Lady in Red' and not for 'Moonlight and Vodka.'

Mun rakas and I listened to the song in some dank Russian restaurant on the banks of the Daugava in Riga, Latvia.

I was eating borscht and what amounted to buffalo wings; she had something entirely different.
It was there that my fondness for Peter Gabriel was reinvigorated. We stayed in that place, adorned with Stalin and Hitler busts, long enough to hear each song twice. We may have stayed long enough to hear "Don't Give Up" twice on purpose. I can't remember. Maybe vodka was involved.

This morning it occurred to me that I hate a lot of things, but not nearly enough.

I hate Ashley Simpson a lot less now that everyone hates her. Call me crazy, but there's something about the charming combination of perseverance and being oblivious.

I hate how this can be construed as poetry.

I hate how easy it is to confuse hunger pangs and appendicitis.

I hate how your body can have a wastebasket.

I hate how Jesus wasn't really born on December 25th. Awww. Poor Deity.

I love how Brad Pitt and Jennifer Anniston issued a statement to "those who follow these sorts of things."

I love how, when I told mun rakas this, she said she didn't know which one she wanted more.

I hate how people from Finland visit my site and don't leave comments with umlauts and whatnots.

I hate how I'm going to the beach this weekend again and will spend the majority of my time asleep on an uncomfortable wicker couch with a half-full (mike) beer on the coffee table.

I hate how mun rakas colored her hair slightly though I'll never be able to tell what color it is. Oh and her eyes! I love how I love her eyes but insist their a greyish blue.

I hate how I refuse to spell grey any differently.
I hate how I'm ending this post.