Lesson #4: Shake Them Hatas Off (#1)

Since we are on the topic of physical violence to settle disputes, I thought I should share some thoughts on "hatas." In my opinion, hatas hate because of two reasons: 1) the person they are hatin' on totally, 100% deserves it by being a skanky, trashy, embarrassing, inappropriately fugly slut and/or is disrupting the general peace/coolness of the environment you are sharing with her, or 2) is completely jealous of you and your friends and strives to curb her feelings of inadequacy by snarling about your appearance, charm, outfit, or general awesomeness to anyone who will listen. Because I hate on people who commit offense #1 and I am hated on by people committing offense #2, I consider myself an expert in this field. I'm just being honest. The following are true stories in which our heroine (me) is involved in #1 and #2 types of hatin'. Enjoy and learn well, my friends.

One night in particular comes to mind as an example of #1 style hatin' (by me, on someone, of course... never the other way around). I was at this super exclusive night club (that has stripper poles, doesn't take credit cards, and only serves 40's of malt liquor) in the posh-est part of a hip, urban metropolitan city (in the ghetto and surrounded by vacant parking lots) with my adorable, hot classy friends (at least that part is true). We are late nighting and having a blast, and I am in a hot little cocktail dress because I came from a wedding. I'm "getting low" to Flo Rida on the light up dance floor with my adorably preppy Vineyard-Vines wearin' crush, when all of the sudden Ms. Skank 2009 shuffles her platform flip-flops right up next to me. She is wearing a bandeau bra as a top, and weirdly another bandeau bra as a skirt. At least her white-blonde hair was long enough to cover some of her mid-rift. Her Central Florida lookin' BF promptly does the guido sway as he grabs her hips and humps her from behind. Of course, I crack up. Not only crack up, but spray my beer out of my mouth and point obnoxiously. I proceed to loudly shit talk about what Skank 09 is wearing and how slutty she looks... aka I'm hatin' to my heat's content. However, because alcohol hinders tact, she somehow hears me. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her push her BF, turn to me, and do that famed skank head/finger swivel and yell in a southern-meth accent, "Umm EXCUSE me?! What did you call me?" Oh shit. Time to... play dumb? Maybe their vision is based on movement and I can just stay still fora while? Nope. Damn. She stomps closer and continues, "If you have somethin' to say, why don't you say it to my face. Or my boyfriend here can beat up your little bitch-ass boyfriend." Then Mr. Tanningbed slammed my date into the mirrored wall. Whoa. Let's not get all trailer park, lady. In a split second, I decided how I would handle the sit. "I was just telling my boyfriend how hot you are," I say as I muster a sheepish grin. "And how jealous I am of you that you can pull that outfit off." She stares at me, dumbfounded (although I'm sure that's what she always looks like) and backs away. She eyed me all night, and I made sure to keep my shit talking to a bathroom stall or a private table. Lesson of Hata Type #1: It is one of the funnest things in the world to hate on awful people who choose to be awful. Love it. Do it. Never stop. However, beware your surroundings or else said awful people will pulverize you. If discovered, have a quick way to turn hatin' into flattery, and escape a dyer situation.