Today's Stuff I Hate by Harms

Apparent Hair Product

Who the fuck uses hair gel? That neon-colored shit with the little bubbles suspended in it? Do you really think I would walk into a bodega and buy myself a bottle of L.A. Looks or whatever the fuck that is? My signature coiff is all ozone, cigarette ash and natural musk, thank you very much. (And a little bit of overpriced styling paste. But that’s between me and God.)

Today's Stuff I Hate by Harms

Biceps

No. I would rather not touch that. I would sooner go to an actual gun show.

Today's Stuff I Hate by Harms

U2

I choose “without you.”

Today's Stuff I Hate by Harms

Bump-Its

Oh, hello there, girl with teased, hairsprayed, protruding cone-like mass atop her head. What are you hiding in there? A litter of baby mice? A baseball? More bronzer in case your face loses its shimmery tanned glow? Maybe a small snack for later after you’ve slammed back your cosmos and vodka cranberries? Or maybe it’s the plastic “Bump It” insert *as seen on TV!* that you bought from your local drug store—yes, they actually fucking make those. Or perhaps your head is just actually shaped like a cone.

Today's Stuff I Hate by Harms

Jager Bombs

You know who likes jager bombs? That guy who shows up at the relatively nice bar/restaurant, finds his understandably uncomfortable “friends” at a table, loudly orders them all their own jager bombs, flips his fucking shit when the drinks aren’t done right with the shots atop the glasses and the balancing and the Mousetrap-style bullshit, makes a huge ass of himself trying to slam on the table to get the shots to fall in, hoots often, stands up at points, attracts a lot of attention, spits while he talks and then stumbles into the night. That’s who fucking likes jager bombs. They’re the national drink of Douche Island. Now somebody get me a beer.

A gift

A gift to my pretend french child.

Dreams really do come true

I knew Jesus died for more than our sins!