I hate kids. Some woman brought her pestulant daughter to the gym this morning and let her work out on the stationary bike. Ney...some woman made her pestulant daughter work out on the stationary bike. I can admire parentally inflicted exercise. I can't admire children in between the ages of 6 and 17. Why wasn't this girl in school? Why did she keep staring at me (oh wait...nevermind. I forget how attractive I look in work out attire)? Why did her mother promise to take her to Krispy Kreme if she completed 10 minutes on the bike? Kids will do nothing selfless or healthy unless coaxed with candy or toys. They ask tactless questions such as, "Why is that woman fat?" They're not funny. They're incapable of deep thought. And when they come into a restaurant such as Red Rock (i.e. an expensive restaurant targeted at an upper class demographic), they drink vast quantities of pink lemonade and pitch a fit when the glass runs empty. I could continue with this tirade, but most of you probably like kids. Most of you are girls who want to marry and become a mommy. We'll see what kind of visceral thrill that is when you're up to your elbows in someone else's excrement and your teenage, acne-stricken child tells you that he or she hates you. Ha! Will I seem so cold-hearted and callous then?