Don’t Hate Me: Baby, I was Born this Way.

The 80’s: An era rich in the history of great hairstyles.

Note: But seriously. I was a somewhat modern 80’s woman and had to endure this actual commercial. For reals. On television before Fast Forward. An atrocity.

However, during this time I had hair and plenty of it. One might even say my hair was, like, totally righteous. Dude.

Photographic Evidence From 1987, Probably Procured from the X-Files or Something:


Don’t Hate Me Because …

Now, back to my thoughts, which are fleeting, to say the least.

The concept of “Don’t hate me because…” has been bouncing around in my fleeting thoughts because, well, frankly I’m feeling hated. And it’s not my fault, I swear. Plus, the haters are totally the ones in control of their own spitefulness and could stem the tide of hatefulness. If they chose to do so.

Note: This is not a hair post

No, this post runs far deeper than hair, if that is possible.

Okay, then. Here it goes:

I am a Golden State Warriors fan.


Don’t hate me because my team is better than yours.

There, I said it.

images-16I feel better already. Frankly, I’m tired of taking the high road with Portland Trailblazer fans (No, really. Purple is a great color for a uniform!) or with Utah Jazz fans (TakeNote! Your guys are going to be good …. someday) or with San Antonio Spurs fans (Wait, no one likes the Spurs) or the …. well, you get it.

And I don’t want to hear about the Bandwagon thing either. I’ve had my eyes on the Warriors since Latrell Sprewell choked the head coach in the locker room. And don’t tell me that I don’t know anything about basketball or I might have to cross-you-over and dunk on you.

Further evidence: I own an actual Strength in Numbers shirt (size XL) that I got at a play-off game.

Photographic evidence: Some random guy in Costco today touched me, almost awkwardly, in his attempt to make contact when he saw me in my Warriors sweatshirt, possibly the only clothing I wear.



Note: I need to go sweatshirt shopping. I admit that. But it’s so comfy.

Further evidence: Steph Curry lives just minutes away and I drive by his house anytime I want, except for the restraining order. And it wasn’t my fault that we were both at Chik-fil-A at the same time. Total coincidence. We both like chicken.

Here’s my point:

I like my team. Steph Curry is a great example of a moral, family man. Draymond Green is a hothead with a big heart. KD is kinda sexy. And Klay Thompson is … Okay, Klay is boring but he can really light it up.

So, let’s all just get along. I’ll like my team. You like yours.

But let’s keep one thing straight:  Don’t hate me because my team is better than yours.

Heck, yes!