10 things I hate
1. Food festivals. I hate them. I want a whole meal on a real plate; not one tiny, lukewarm, sub-standard portion that I’ve had to wait in line for.
2. The words ‘whilst’, ‘utilise’ and ‘vehicle’. While, use and car are all perfectly fine words. Stop gold leafing the ordinary.
3. Spitting. That hacking, coughing, emphysemic golly-hocking thing that people do. That. I hate it.
4. Late nights. Yes, I am officially old. I hate anything that requires me to be awake after midnight, especially if it’s not taking place in my bed.
5. Early mornings. I hate them more than I fear death. I would rather spend every taxi ride to the airport in a state of semi-panic than get up before 8am unless absolutely necessary.
6. Running. Dancing is wonderful, tennis is grand. Running is something I would only wish on my worst enemies as I lob tennis balls at their backs and perform an aggressive haka-like Single Ladies dance.
7. Talking on the phone. I hate it. I like to organise face-to-face catch ups or use email or Facebook Messenger. Talking on the phone is rarely convenient and missing calls makes me really stressed (and my phone is permanently on silent so I miss most calls, most of the time). Having said that, there are a few people I love talking to. Go figure.
8. Conference calls. I hate them. They are the most confusing and unpleasant form of phone call. They are rarely with anyone you know, meaning you have no point of reference for their vocal cues. There’s also the deep fear of not hanging up properly before you start talking about the people you were talking to.
9. Talking to hairdressers. I love getting my haircut and I love what hairdressers do; I just really hate awkward chit chat. Hence, my hairdressers are Korean and I nap through most haircuts. Problem. Solved.
10. Contestants who cry during MasterChef. I get that making bacon icecream is super stressful and that you are dreaming of drying your own kale on an organic farm in Tasmania, but FFS, do not cry when your pork crackling is ‘leathery’ or your 24-step dessert slumps sidewards. Cry when you lop off a digit. Cry when you spill molten toffee on your legs. Do not cry when George Colombaris pulls a frowny face.
Wanna whinge? What do you hate?