It is that time of year again where you feel the need to annoying the ever living piss out of me, and I imagine everyone else you come into contact with. I have a feeling that I speak for millions when I say, I hate you.
I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you. I hate you.
I hate it when I can’t even simply stand outside without being assaulted by you.
I hate how you have an affinity for my eyeballs.
I hate how much you seem to love my dog’s butthole.
I hate how you try to incorporate yourself into everything I try and eat or drink outdoors, and sometimes indoors.
I hate that you seem to be smaller than the mesh on my screen door.
I hate that people can’t stand outside without looking like they have some full body tick because they are trying to get away from you without running in circles.
I hate that you have refined the skill of being in the exact right place to be sucked up into my sinus cavities when I breath in through my nose.
I want you to die.
I want to rip off your tiny little wings and then let you flounder around while your tiny little gnat lungs give out.
Rip out your wings and make you take a long gnat walk off a really short noodle hovering above a coffee cup filled with piping hot coffee. I’d sacrifice a cup of coffee for this to happen. Although it is basically only a matter of time before you dive bomb into it on your own accord so really I’m just doing it for the satisfaction of watching you die.
I want to invent a heat ray that I can set to only vaporize you. And perhaps cockroaches. But you first. Do you see what just happened there? I put you above cockroaches on the list of things that need to be vaporized from this planet. Are you starting to see how annoying you are? Just a little bit? Maybe?
I want to lure you all into a big box, shut the box, tape it up, and then ship the box to a place that doesn’t have gnats and the people there who always wonder what the big problem is. Two seconds max and they’ll be compiling a list of why they hate you so much too.
Now if you would please take some of these words to heart and beat it, I would be quite grateful. As would my dog’s butt.
Can we add the hoards of tiny little ants invading my bathroom to that list?
3) tiny little bathroom – invading ants
seriously, I’m sitting her on the sofa and just found one crawling around on the sofa cushion. That’s it. I’m moving out!