Here it is, the sequal.

Stuff I Hate 2: The Swyndle Years

I hate Prick. I liked Prick when they were still Nine Inch Nails.

I hate Filter. I hated Filter when they were Nine Inch Nails.

I hate the chic at the drive up window. She's not to bright, and has no idea what no ice, and cheese only mean.

I hate Disneyised versions of previously good productions.

I hate Disneyised versions of previously suck-ass productions.

I hate Disneyised versions of historical events.

I hate Broadway musicals.

I hate Broadway musicals of previous works.

I hate Broadway musicals of previous Disneyised works.

I hate Micheal Eisner.

I hate that darned cat.

I hate fake fur.

I hate real fur unless its still on the original proprietor of said fur.

I hate cute and fuzzy bunnies.

I hate cute and funny buzzies.

I hate those things that stick out on the sides of lowriders. What the hell are those things?

I hate Rosie O'donell. Still.

I hate teachers that are retiring and don't give a damn about their current students.

I hate the Denver Public School system.

I hate not having the ability to drink far too much alcahol anymore.

I hate Tom Brokaw. He just seems to be a little stiff. I think he's got something in his ass. Perhaps he's a Muppet.

I hate Miss Piggy. She reminds me of Rosie O'donell.

I hate The Family Circus. It has less comedic value than Marmaduke.

I hate Marmaduke.

I hate the guy that does Kermits voice now.

I hate sports figures who can't get over themselves.

I hate political figures who can't get over themselves.

I hate celebrities that can't get over themselves.

I hate Brittney Spears, no matter how big they get.

I hate knowing that Filter got a contract, and I can't seem to get a band together.

I hate bigamy.

I hate Utah.

I hate states that are smaller than most towns.

I hate states that rhyme with Fontana.

I hate that thing in the corner. What in hell is that thing?

I hate the music industry.

I hate the film industry.

I hate industrialists.

I hate signs of the apocalypse.

I hate space aliens.

I hate cramped aliens.

I hate aliens from outer space.

I hate aliens from inner space.

I hate aliens from Utah.

I hate Shannon. Not my cousin Shannon, the stoopid bitch Shannon.

I hate Summer. Not the season, the stoopid tractor slut Summer.

I hate charlies in the trees.

I hate charlies on the ground.

I hate Charlie's Angels.

I hate the '70s. They were too orange for my taste.

I hate demons from hell.

I hate demons from Newark.

I hate non-smoking environments.

I hate bicyclists.

I hate roller bladers.

I like skaters.

I still hate Thag.

I hate the Olson twins.

I hate Mary Kay.

I hate Pamela Anderson...Lee- oh hell the bitch with the lips that are too big for the statue of Liberty.

I hate party games.

I hate game parties.

I hate The Wizard of Oz.

I hate your little dog to.

I hate Satan.

Lucifer was an alright guy I suppose.

I hate the Howard Stern Show.

I hate guys with facial hair.

I hate chics with facial hair.

I hate really bad updates of really good old shows.

I hate the Beast Wars.

I like The Transformers.

I hate white chocolate.

I like real chocolate.

I hate State of the Union adresses.

I hate fruity new-wave coffee bars.

I hate Starbucks.

I hate fruity new-wave coffees.

I Starbucks' cappucino.

I hate preppies.

I hate yuppies.

I think it's funny that hippies became yuppies and had a 2.5 of preppies.

I hate neck-ties.

I hate clip-on ties.

I hate the eighties and early nineties Ford Mustang.

I hate being turned down by chics that can't say, "No."

I hate not knowing who I went home with.

I hate not going home with anyone.

I hate not going home.

Go home.

I hate Angel trumpets.

I hate Woodstock. The concert, not the bird.

I hate the military.

I hate the NSA.

I hate not being a member of the NSA.

I hate Vietnam movies.

I like Credence Clearwater Revival.

I hate the United Soviet Socialist Republic.

If it was warmer, I might like Russia.

I hate pulling the plug.

I hate prolonged suffering.

I hate that tattoo of South America on Gorby's head.

I hate having nothing in common.

I hate being alike.

I hate you until you give me sufficient reason not to.

I hate Ms. Pac Man.

I hate Party Like It's 1999.

I hate 1999.

I hate the Y2k scare.

I hate the people frightened by Y2k.

I hate snakes.

I hate animals that don't do anything.

Consequently, I hate koalas.

I hate mentholated cough drops.

I hate the red coats.

I hate the white coats.

I hate descriptions based on clothing.

I hate the trench coat mafia.

I hate the actual mafia.

I liked Mafia the movie.

I hate Columbian drug lords.

It would be pretty hard to be a Columbian drug lord if we just annexed Columbia and named it Willie.

I hate Boulder.

I hate hate non-smoking towns in which all the citizens wear Birkenstocks.

I hate sandals.

I hate hemp.

I hate people who smoke hemp.

I hate people who wear hemp.

Stop eating the hemp.

I hate bad drivers.

I hate being a good driver and having the fact that I'm a fast driver interpereted as bad driving.

I hate the 9th step.

I hate "Have a nice day."

I like smiley faces.

I hate cold.

I hate not having any chics nearby when a thunderstorm hits.

I hate Hitler.

I hate men that look like Hitler.

I hate the Hitler channel.

I hate weather men.

I hate weather men that look like Hitler.

I hate weather men on the Hitler channel.

I hate weather men on the Hitler channel who look like Hitler.

I hate weather men that look like Hitler, on the Hitler channel, who predict cold thunderstorms just after the last chic has left.

I hate that last bit.

I hate John Wayne.

I hate Elvis Presley.

I hate Elvis impersonaters.*See aliens.

I hate Elvis fans.*See Elvis impersonaters.

I hate Colonol Klink.

Bob Crane looks just like my grandfather.

I hate Star Trek Voyager.

I hate words that mean different things but are spelled the same.

WHO FEEDS YOU PEOPLE!?!

I hate words that mean the different things but sound the same.

I hate people who learn to fire a pistol, and then by a semi-automatic weapon for home protection.

I hate standing naked atop a pyramid while millions of angry women pelt me with fruit.

I hate thinking out loud.

I hate being the only one who ever has that dream.

I hate the key to the city.

I hate the lock to the city.

I hate the Panama canal.

I hate E-porn.

Here's a pic of my fiance.

I hate people that buy that.

A brass sheep.

I hate procrastination.

I'll finish this later.

I hate beaver dams.

I hate chastity belts.

I hate picking this lock.

I hate when I get caught.

I hate the English.

I hate the Irish.

I hate the Scottish.

I hate the Germans.

I hate listing my heritage on the wrong page.

I hate vikings.

I hate the Minnesota Vikings.

I like Ozzy Osbourne.

I hate Izzy Stillborn.

I hate that thing between your teeth.

I hate the germ fearing public.

I hate the public fearing germ.

I hate failed assassinations.

I hate words that have ass in them twice.

I hate people with two first names.

I hate people with more than one middle name.

I hate people named (place body of water here.)

I hate "Long Live the King".

I hate "The King and I".

I hate "The Devil in Mrs. Jones".

I hate it when everyone produces a cellphone at once.

I hate it when it was mine ringing.

I hate Bill Gates.

I hate Microsuck.

I hate billion dollar rabies.

I like "Billion Dollar Babies".

I hate it when the bell tolls for me.

I hate having my head removed.

I hate having it replaced backwards.

Why didn't somebody tell me my ass was so big!?!

I hate big butts and I cannot lie.

I hate being a pissed off individual.

I'm only happy when it rains.

I hate not knowing Shirley Manson personally.

I hate The Crow: City of Angels.

I hate City of Angels.

I hate films starring Brad Pitt.

I hate films starring Tom Cruise.

God help me if they ever end up in a movie together.

What's that?

The Vampire Lester?

I hate The Doors.

I hate the After School Movie of the week.

I hate Ricky Martin.

I hate Lou Bega.

I hate Kid Creole.

I hate Boston. The city not the band.

I hate Boston. The band not the city.

I hate Chicago. The band not the city.

I hate Los Angeles. The city not the, er... Nevermind

I hate John Denver.

I hate Bob Denver.

I hate driving in Denver.

I'd enjoy running over Bob Denver.

I hate running out of space.

That's just my opinion, I hate people who can't figure that out on their own.

~Swyndle

Uploaded 14th December 1999