You know what I hate?
When you get hungry late at night, so you drive over to McDonalds, but when you walk in, you realize it's not a McDonalds, it's a crackhouse, so you figure 'What the hell, I'll buy some crack', but the dude selling it wants to haggle over the price, which takes, like, twenty minutes to set, and then he insists that he wants to be paid in Dutch Guilders or some damn thing, but then the cops raid the place, and you manage to make it out the back door and down the waterslide; then, as you're running down the street from the ruckus, you notice you forgot your pants, and while you're looking around with something to cover yourself with, so you won't shock the ladies when you get to your mother's tea party, Henry Kissinger and Mickey Mouse jump out of the bushes, and Kissinger's wearing a Bozo costume, and Mickey has a double-barreled over-and-under shotgun, and shoots you right in the goddamn face with a couple loads of double-aught buckshot.
That's what I hate.
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