Clayton's LV/ H8

   Thursday is commonly known for the fact that it comes before Friday, which is the official beginning of the weekend. Thursday therefore is the last weekday of the week or something along those lines, though people consider Monday through Friday weekdays so I guess Thursday would be the last non-weekend day of the week? I always found Thursday to be funny because in colleges, where all days of the week must be noted only by one letter, Thursday has the sad misfortune of being a schoolday which shared an initial letter with a schoolday that preceded Thursday by two days. So the days panned out to be M, T, W, R, and F. I don't know why R was decided upon, considering H is a letter that Tuesday doesn't have and comes directly after the T in Thursday, but alas, instead of M, T, W, H, F, we have M, T, W, R, and F.

 Other than that, Thursday is the day when I post my LV/ H8 column.



   Hate #3: Those damn tube top dresses.

 Now that summer is almost officially upon us, the world's sense of fashion takes a deep dive as the need to be comfortable and get tan takes preeminence. This often results in overly casual get-ups, ranging from the always-fashionable public tank top to the board short (these two looks are often combined). Women, unable to get away with wearing bathing suits while buying King Cobra from the gas station, resort to other forms of summer wear. Though most of these are unforgivable in any form, the one that most kills me is the tube top dress thing.

 I've seen it done well, I'll admit, but very, very rarely. Even attractive women usually look dumb when they put elastic bands around their breasts and dangle fleece-looking fabric from them with no shape or form. "But Clayton," you may argue, "these are effective bathing suit covers!" Sure, but DON'T WEAR THEM AWAY FROM THE BEACH! Besides, there are far better covers for bathing suits, like sultry robe things, or, you know, a pair of non-beach clothes since you're obviously not using your bathing suit anymore. These tube top dresses serve merely to enhance a football field's worth of bare and unshapely skin while demeaning the sightly parts of the body by blocking them off. Symmetry, my dear Watson. S'all about symmetry.



 Hate #2: Wet cat food.

 Cats are well-known to be evil and malicious predators who one day will take over the human race. They take great pleasure in toying with live animals before viciously murdering them and sometimes eating them. I know that cats probably revel in the pleasure of a wet, bloody meal, but why is that cats love to eat wet, soggy, food? Canned cat food has an overpowering stench of death, decay, and old cat lady, a pungent smell that invades fabric and brain matter alike, enveloping them in odors of despair and hatred. On top of that, have you ever taken the time to feed a cat a can of wet cat food? If you, like most logical humans, deny your cat the right of a bowl and instead open the cat and toss it on the floor in the semi-hope that your poor kitten doesn't rip its face off while trying to eat the slop from the inside of a potentially sharp metal can, you've avoided most of the awful (you will, however, be the first recipient of the horrific smell penned up in the wicked can). If you're being audited by PETA, though, you will take the food and either dump it ungraciously or spoon it laboriously into a bowl, fully aware of the foul texture of the food. It's an attractive mix between tubby custard and baby feces, sitting in a pool of hot ham water. Actually, I'm getting quite hungry.



 Hate #1: Jokes.
 I've read the studies (well, I've read e-mail referencing the uncited studies) about how laughter is healthy for the heart and will make you successful and possibly get you a free match on Eharmony.com. I understand that it takes more muscles to frown than to smile. Yet I also understand that most of my laughter comes from spontaneity, from unplanned events and situations that are ludicrous and hilarious. When I really laugh, it is not at someone's failed attempt to say something funny. This is why I hate jokes.

Women in the workplace? That actually
is a pretty hilarious joke.

 Jokes are one of those social oddities that I've never fully understood. It's as though in place of having a mutually desired conversation, or just a period of silence, people are required to cause laughter when interacting with other humans. Who decided that that we must suffer through countless unfunny jokes in the off-chance that there'll be one or two funny jokes said in a year? Who set the law that people are allowed to spout off stupid repeated string of words, or that I have to laugh falsely at them? I refuse to understand jokes or understand why they're allowed in social situations. They're rarely funny, they're often painful, and they deserve nothing more than my spiteful hate.


 And this one thing I love....

 MIST.

 Across the world there are natural beauties that are regional. Waterfalls, sunsets on the beach, cliff faces, mountain peaks, grassy paddocks, glistening desert plains - these are places of awe and grandeur that make us mere humans pause and say nothing, for we are speechless. But most of us have to travel to these places, or if we live near them, we live near only one or two natural beauties. And even then, once we see something regularly we become accustomed to it and the shock of something so gorgeous wears off gradually. However, pretty much anywhere you live, you can see mist.

Not to be confused with the horror movie cleverly titled The Mist.

  Mist is floating water droplets, pretty much like a non-hot version of steam that often occurs at dawn and oftentimes over bodies of water. It's gorgeous. There's something mysterious and beautiful about the semi-transparent of nature - we can see it, but we can see through it. It serves to enhance the surrounding scenery without overpowering it. It's non-substantial, it's sheer, it's otherworldy.... it's mist. And I love it.