Your biggest hater.

Have you ever wondered who in the world hates you the most? I mean, think about it - six people might hate you, or maybe six MILLION people might hate you. Regardless of the actual number of people that dream of stabbing you with a knife just after they have farted on it - one of them hates you just a special bit more than the others. I guess that person gets the boring, but accurate, title known as: "Person In The World That Wants You Dead The Most!"

If you know who hates you the most, I am jealous. I have no idea who my person is. I haven't been through a bitter divorce or thrown someone's baby into a volcano, so I don't really know who is my Most Supreme Hater!I do know this: lots of people hate me. And I also know this: I don't give a shit. If I gave a complete shit about what people thought, I'd say what I thought everyone wanted me to say. Let me prove my point:

I would accept an opportunity to get dizzy-busy with extremely elderly (and Canadien) talk show host Sue Johanssen just for the knowledge I might pick up from getting raunchy with that wrinkly old sex expert.

That wasn't what you wanted to hear me say, was it? But I said it because it was true, not because I want you to approve of me. So there. Now can we get away from the argument that I care about my hater because I want him or her to love me? I don't. I'm just fascinated and amused that there is possibly someone out there that gives enough of a shit about me to actively hate me. When I start to hate people, I usually just delete them from my mind and move on. But some people can't do that. And as I established just a moment ago, it's a near certainty that we all have a Supreme Hater. But what bothers me is that I don't know the identity of mine. I want to know who it is so I can laugh at them. I want to know who it is so I can annoy them even worse. I want to know who it is so I can possibly call them and agree with them about why they should hate me. But most of all, I just want to see her house. (C'mon, let's be real. We all know it is likely a "her." Girls love to hate me. It's just because I'm fun. They love me because I'm fun. And then they end up hating me because I'm fun. That's another story -that I'll never write.)

But back to the point I just stumbled on. Wouldn't you really love to see the home of someone who hates you more than anyone on earth? It might be incredibly awesome. I would love to walk in the home of my hater and see my picture on a dartboard. No, I'd rather see a picture of myself giving a smile while flashing some metal to the camera - only to find that my hater has taken a Sharpie and drawn a swastika on my forehead, Satanic pentgrams on my cheeks, and a swirly 1930's aviator mustache on my face that is supposded to be mean, but actually looks kind of cute. If I saw that, I'd beg her for a copy.Ooh, what if my hater is a real psycho and every day she bakes a cake with my face drawn on it in icing. But instead of eating it, she cools it on a window and then slits my cake-throat with a knife and screams "I hate you I hate you I hate you, Cory Withers! I hate you die!"That would be awesome.Or wouldn't it be just too much fun to sneak into your haters home and see a voodoo doll of yourself! But not just a regular voodoo doll of you - A LIFE SIZE VOODOO DOLL of you! (Complete with your real hair shavings that she bought from your barber. That would be killer.)

I'm just saying. I think it would be fun to know your biggest non-fan - the person who thinks you can do no right. I do know who once was my biggest hater, but it doesn't count because I only found out after she quit hating me. And she quit hating me because she realized that dating my dumbass may have actually been the reason she ended up with her also-dumbass husband that she thinks is so cool. I think she reluctantly thinks "thank you" in my direction every once in a while. And she did tell me that even though she kind of still hates me some, that I still am kind of fun. And she wasn't even eccentric or entertaining enough to try to slip diarrhetics into my coffee or to try to place an IED in my driveway, so she doesn't count as my Supreme Hater. I don't know though.

Mabye I'm wrong about the whole thing. Maybe I should hear from those of you who abslolutely do know who your biggest hater is. Maybe you know who your hater is because you did something really bad; like banging your dad's wife... which is your mom! Or maybe you put slugs in a blender, then poured them into a baster and then squirted their liquid-slug-remains up your roommate's rectum while he was sleeping. If you did someting on that level, I'm sure you know the identity of the person that hates you most on this planet. What's that like?Is it as fun as I think it is? Or am I better not knowing?P.S. If you are this person, please reveal yourself to me. I want to know what drives you. And I want to laugh at you. And dammit, I want a replica of that voodoo doll!