Eric Hates You

Built into the genes of every female on the planet is the requirement that as a little girl they dream of being a ballerina while simultaneously believing they will grow up to be a princess, singer, actress, and veterinarian. Years later, when they realize that they weren’t born into royalty, they don’t have perfect pitch, they don’t have any relatives in Hollywood, and veterinarian school is too expensive, they find solace in the fact that clothing designers have created a shoe that can make their childhood dreams come true. This excuse for footwear is second only to the abomination that is Crocs. My male readers may be confused as to what ballet flats actually are. Don’t worry, I had to do a Google search to find out what they were called as well.

My female readers will be angered by this post because they would like to believe that ballet flats are the perfect addition to their wardrobe because they can wear them with any outfit. Wrong. The only situation where ballet flats are appropriate is in ballet class. The only shoe more minimalist than a ballet flat is a sandal and in my opinion, unless you have webbed feet, stick with the sandal. The genius behind this “shoe” is that their lifespan can’t be longer than 2 weeks. I know people who still have the same sneakers they bought 3 years ago but I’ve never seen anyone wear the same pair of ballet flats for longer than a few weeks. This is because the shoe is about as thick as a sock and uses less fabric.

Actual ballerinas must have been pissed when they saw non-ballerinas wearing these shoes for the first time. A shoe that had been exclusive to them for hundreds of years was suddenly ripped away and given to overweight, frumpy, and unattractive females everywhere. I don’t care if they look great with the designer jeans you bought from Macy’s last week; wear something else. I would rather have you wear those stupid Ugg boots, which rank 3rd on my list of terrible footwear, than ballet flats. I realize that there is a tiny percentage of women out there who are actual ballerinas and they are free to wear their ballet flats proudly but if you are not a ballerina, you better hope that you never meet me in real life.

Who decided that these are considered acceptable to wear on your feet? Any time I see someone wearing these I want to take one of my real shoes off and beat them in the face with it just to remind them what true footwear looks like. Sure, I’ve worn shoes made completely out of rubber before; I was also 11 and they were called water shoes. Every time I wore them I would get athlete’s foot and when I walked it would sound like an old man eating soup at a deli.

People who wear Crocs also like to point out the numerous benefits of wearing these “shoes”. They are unique in that they have special “nubs” on the footbed that help blood circulation. I think I’ve heard of something that also helps blood circulation. It was called walking. At the same time the rubber Crocs are made of is odor resistant. If you have a problem with foot odor, you probably don’t want to be wearing a “shoe” that you don’t also wear socks with and has holes all over it. I suppose that the largest benefit of Crocs is that they reduce muscle fatigue up to 62.6% more than standing barefoot. I’d like to know how much standing barefoot reduces muscle fatigue. You’d think that sitting or laying down would reduce muscle fatigue 100%. Maybe I’ll invent a product that I can tout does just that. I think I’ll call it a bed. Then again, I can’t remember the last time I was standing barefoot long enough to worry about muscle fatigue and I can almost guarantee you that anything you put on your foot reduces muscle fatigue more than standing barefoot.

I truly have to congratulate the person who invented this gift to humankind. They’ve invented a product that looks like someone threw up on their foot and yet people call it fashionable. And by using creative marketing, they’ve convinced people that wearing plastic on your foot will somehow make your feet smell less, solve your blood circulation issues, and reduce muscle fatigue more than wearing socks and sneakers. Brilliant. I extend every invitation to Crocs, Inc. to send me a pair of their fine product so I can melt them in my oven and make a giant bouncy ball that will make my hands smell better and improve blood circulation while reducing muscle fatigue to my arms.

Graffiti is an art. It is a growing art in fact and there are plenty of graffiti artists whose work has been the showcase of exhibits and worldwide praise. You however, are not a graffiti artist. Yes, you may have sat at your desk in high school drawing your name on your desk with 3 different color pens but you have not made an artist out of yourself. Congratulations, you took a can of spray paint and painted an unrecognizable symbol on the side of your parents’ neighbor’s house. You must be an artist now, right? Wrong. Any idiot can spray paint the name of their favorite band on the side of a building. The act of this is not called graffiti, it is called idiocy.

What motivation did you have to paint “Sonic Youth” on the back of your local grocery store? Did you think that people would be impressed every time they drove by, squinting to try and read what you wrote? It’s a good thing you only used one color of spray paint, otherwise people might be confused and think that the McDonald’s you spray painted the side of has a new urban logo. Here is a word of advice, you are not Banksy. When you spray paint the side of a building people do not think, “That guy must be a really cool guy”, they think, “I would like to meet the person who did that so I can punch them in the throat for being so creative”. Anyone can spray paint “Metallica” on the side of a bridge. The next time you think it’s a good idea to “tag” a building, try spray painting your name in perfect Helvetica. Then I might be impressed.

No, I am not referring to the crappy Adam Sandler movie. I’m referring to people injecting Spanish words into English sentences. Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against the Latin American people. They are good, hard working men and women but if you plan on learning English as a second language, follow through. I thoroughly enjoy hearing people of other ethnicities speak fluent English with a sexy accent, but when you start ending your sentences with Spanish words, it is the equivalent of that guy from Wendy’s who forgets to put your fries in the bag. He knows he’s being lazy, but he just doesn’t care.

When I’m trying to listen in on the angry conversation you are having with your boyfriend on your cell phone from across the food court in the mall, nothing irritates me more than when you throw a change up and start yelling in Spanish. No longer do I know if you are spouting profanities or telling him you love him with that Latin fire you are so well known for. Yes, I realize you are “chicano for life” but here in the suburbs you say “Mexican American”. If I wanted to learn Spanish I would have done so in Junior High. And trust me, I wouldn’t move to Mexico without either hiring my friend’s little brother who can speak Spanish at a ninth grade level as a translator or pirating the Spanish version of Rosetta Stone.  There is a reason that not everyone in America speaks Spanish; because if everyone did, we wouldn’t be America any longer, we would be Latin America.

Social networking is a load of crap.  If people really wanted to know what was going on in your life they would give you  a call or meet you for lunch.  To use MySpace, you first have to forget the English language and start turning nouns like “friend” into verbs.  When someone wants to “friend” you, you had better accept.  You don’t want to offend someone and then have them make all of their “friends” write nasty things on your MySpace page.  It’s either that or an invitation to a house to have them and 7 of their real friends beat the crap out of you, videotape it, and post it on MySpace to show all of their MySpace “friends” they mean business.  You have 10,000 “friends”?  I bet you do.  I bet you also invite them all to Thanksgiving dinner and buy all 10,000 of them Christmas/Hanukkah/Kwanza gifts as well.

“But it’s a great place for up and coming bands to get their music out there” you say?  I have a better suggestion for all of the bands out there who think that MySpace is the way to get a record label to notice you: go play your music for real live people in a bistro or in someone’s backyard for a birthday party instead of expecting us all to go to your MySpace page to check out your edgy new “single”.  Guess what?  You don’t have a “single” because you aren’t a real band; you are a MySpace sideshow.  You know that picture of your “band” that you have as a tiled background on your MySpace page?  You know, the one where you are all turned slightly to the left with the thumbs of every member of your “band” stuck in their pockets?  You aren’t original for coming up with that, you saw it on the MySpace page of the “band” who “friended” your “band” yesterday.

The fact that people would rather ask you for your MySpace page than engage you in a real life conversation is appalling.  I don’t want to be your MySpace “friend” and I don’t give a crap who your “band” is.  What angers me the most about MySpace is that a Google search of “EricHatesYou” returns the number one result of a guy whose MySpace name also happens to be “EricHatesYou”.  I don’t have MySpace, but until my site is the number one “EricHatesYou” Google search result, there is an open invitation to the owner of this MySpace page to a beating at my house from me and 7 of my real life friends.

Do you want to know when America’s obesity epidemic started? It started with the invention of the fanny pack. No longer were people forced to carry items with their hands; they could carry them with their fannies. Now I do realize that the fanny pack has gotten its fair share of verbal abuse already but apparently it hasn’t been enough. I continue to see people wearing fanny packs as if it is a normal, okay thing to do. I have news for these people, it is not an okay thing to do. Luckily for us the majority of people who still wear fanny packs are grown men who drive minivans. This allows the rest of us to make fun of them until they retreat to their Town & Country only to pull a wad of tissues from their fanny pack so they can cry about how no one realizes how “functional” their fanny pack is. I don’t care if it has a cell phone holder. My pants have a cell phone holder too; it’s called a pocket. Learn to use your pockets like the rest of us. Maybe then you’ll graduate to normality.