Arizona

Okay, the thing about Arizona is that my dad loves it. And me being a bratty teenager as I once was, I needed to hate it just because my dad adores it. I needed to hate absolutely everything about Arizona. Every rock, every speck of dust, every cactus, every street name and tourist attraction. Just because my dad was in love.

Now that I'm a little older than "bratty," I'm mellowing out. Arizona is still not my favorite place in the whole wide world, but I no longer hate it with a passion. And if I do, it's just to be contrary.
I do greatly dislike the weather. I'm not a fan of heat, I'd rather bundle up than strip down. Personally.
And I am pretty scared of cactus. They're deadly, come on, who wouldn't be afraid of something that could cuddle with you and draw enough blood to feed a football team of vampires?
And you have to admit that nearly everything plays into stereotype when it comes to Arizona. There are streets called "Teepee Road" and "Buck-eye Trail," and a town called "Apache Junction." So many stereotypical western restaurants and tourist attractions, I wonder how the state can live with itself. Does it realize that it's entire purpose is tourism? The Grand Canyon is the best feature of the landscape. Okay, the red rocks are cool too. And petrified wood. And a couple other things...as long as I don't have to get too close to the cactus.
And let's face it, Arizona is crawling with retired police officers. Most old people go and live in Florida, but not the police officers. They go to Arizona. Why is that?

Cheeky Arizona, flipping the bird at me with those handy saguaros...it obviously doesn't care about my opinion.