Loathing. Unadulterated loathing.

I haven't met most of Nathan's relatives (there's like a million and a half, right?), but I know there's one that I really DON'T want to meet. Let's call her... Sha-keira. I've had enough of her would-be witty anecdotes, and as a general rule I don't trust anyone who willingly lives in Oregon. Plus she married someone named Nathan. That's MY thing, got it?

Sha-keira represents all that is wrong with the world. Namely, radical nationalism, veganism, and scientology. I hate all of those things, so of course, I hate Sha-keira.

That's not all, though. There's so much more.

I would compose a list of reasons why I hate Sha-keira and want nothing to do with her, but that would be the longest list ever and while I type 90wpm, it would take about fourteen hours and forty-six minutes to get it all out. I don't anticipate much proof-reading being necessary, but when you're typing for fifteen hours, there are bound to be some mistakes. I don't tolerate mistakes. And I won't tolerate Sha-keira.

My life has been such a mess since I learned of this horrid person. What should be the happiest time of my life is an unmitigated disaster because of the dark clouds of doom that are lingering over my head due to her mere existence. I hate her. I despise her. I loathe her. I detest her. The mere mention of Sha-keira makes me fall to the ground, curl my fists in rage and shake them at the heavens, crying "Why? What have I done to deserve this? Send a flood to wash this plague from the earth!" Sadly, though, my pleas have not yet come to fruition.

Sha-keira, if you are reading this, consider yourself UN-invited to the wedding. Also, stop reading my blog. We are DONE, and we never even started, which is the only thing that I'm grateful for when it comes to you.