You're my favorite thing that I hate.

You're my favorite thing that I hate.

Last week, we went to a Padres baseball game and managed to sit near the type of guys who actually go out of their way to be rowdy and annoying. I overheard them swapping "kicked out of ballpark" stories.

We were also with a group of Cardinals fans (FOR SHAME, I know), so this fueled their little annoying baseball fan act.

At one point, the Cardinals made several phenomenal double plays in a row, all courtesy of their shortstop, #22.

The rowdiest fan yelled out, "I HATE YOU NUMBER 22!" And then, maybe catching himself on his negativism and the fact that the neural pathways associated with anger, hatred, and negative thought were being reinforced as permanent bridges rendering him less able to undergo positive thought and love-type emotions (according to What The Bleep Do We Know, which I just watched last night) he yelled out a second time: "NUMBER 22, YOU'RE MY FAVORITE THING THAT I HATE."

Sentences like that never fail to make my day.