The thing about hate is that's it's just so exhausting, and these days I'm plenty tired from the insomnia to need any supplement to my sleeplessness. That there are things I hate is inevitable--human nature simply dictates it, you see--but I try really hard not to think about those things, especially since I've been told that when I think about those things my eyes start a-rolling and suddenly my list of friends is two shorter from a moment ago. No, I get no pleasure from hate, but you know who does? My co-worker. He hates the Pittsburgh Penguins SO MUCH he'll sit in my office for hours at a time, spitting vim and vitriol until the tips of his ears and fingers both turn hot pink with unadulterated glee. Sometimes I wish I could hate like that. Mostly, I just hate that I can't each nachos on the beach every god-damned day.