How Can I Hate You if You Insist on Not Being Hateful

"Man, do I hate showtime," I say, surprising none of my readers, as I move away from the center of the car to avoid getting kicked in the head by the two-man crew that has arrived in our car.

"You're not the only one," says the blonde woman, deadpan. 

"Eh, I guess it's not that bad," I reply.

But instead of the usual bad hip-hop or techno, they hit play, and Bruno Mars's "Treasure" bumps out of the speaker, and I can't help boogeying along.