i'm about to punch your lights out, halloween candy.

look, doucheface, we're all annoyed that this line is 10 miles long. and i get that your children are annoying. but being a loud ass bitch and pretending to offer your kids to everyone who passes by isn't actually that funny. it's lame. and in 10 years, they're going to need therapy, so suck on that.

you're about to die, angel hair pasta.

i'm swatting away at my arm, as though i'm surrounded by mosquitoes, when i notice that it's your long ass fucking hair brushing up against me. your stranger hair just molested my arm. you'd better figure out how to get it off me in a hurry, or i'm going to put on some gloves and rip it out.

i'm embarrassed, carne asada burrito.

you make living in this city hard.

you're so lazy, macaroons.

life tip: when i write "let me know!" at the end of an e-mail, it generally means you should write me back and let me know. that's why i said "let me know."

you're an embarrassment, kool-aid.

did you go to elementary school for even 1 second? why don't you know the difference between your and you're? that's like, remedial life 101. i suggest you commit it to memory, like all the other third-graders in the universe.

you are so inappropriate, little debbie chocolate cupcake.

god why are you making out with each other all sensually like that? you're on a train, standing, with a million people around you. have some dignity and quit making me vomit all over the guy next to me.

don't even go there, camembert.

you're basically 300 years old. never should the words "twitter effect" pass through your lips. it's weird.