you can't even do that right, carnitas tacos.

since we are roommates, it's common knowledge and courtesy that you follow some roommate-specific rules. obviously you've never heard of this fact, you selfish prick.

how do you live with yourself, german chocolate cake?

are you new here? do you realize that this is a professional work environment and not a place where you can act like a dick? clearly that memo missed your inbox.

you are the worst ever, rice pudding.

who cares what your title is on INTERNAL communication between you and i? i don't care if you're senior president CEO CFO king of the world! i wrote it at 2 a.m. on a post-it note. clearly it's not official documentation.

are you serious, churro?

nobody fucking knows why you had to swipe your card at the pump and again at the window. obviously it didn't go through. yelling at the gas station guy and sighing all melodramatically isn't going to help you understand. it's just going to make you look like a huge bitch.

man, california burrito.

do you know what a dab is? clearly you don't, because that's how much perfume you're supposed to put on. a dab. not a fucking DUNK. you don't DUNK yourself in it. are you hoarding bottles of chanel no. 5, and putting it in barrels, and then swimming in it? well, it sure smells like it. lay off.

you're acting like a crazy person, tuna melt sandwich.

you've been tasked with finding a new roommate. from the way you were acting, you'd think we asked you to find the cure to a disease with an immediate deadline. it's not fucking rocket science. you post an ad on craigslist, and then you wait. jesus h.

that's not yours, dessert crepe.

i know you've been eating my shit because yesterday there was a whole bag of chips in the cupboard, and now there's half a bag of chips in the cupboard. if you think i don't notice, you're delusional. buy your own fucking bag of chips.

don't stand so close to me, confit of moulard duck foie gras.

oh, really? you can cook and draw and fly fish and make organic films, and you're a leader of men? no, you're a liar. because why would someone who knows everything and everyone be standing here stinking up my airspace to brag to us nobodies about it? i have no idea what you're talking about. get off your invisible high horse. you're too small anyway

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i just don't even get it, pastrami on rye.

this is a thrift store. there's no reason for you to have an attitude. your main responsibility is just to stand there. like, you literally don't have to do anything other than that.

quit your bragging, low moisture part-skim mozzarella string cheese.

yeah, i see you running up an down the mountains of noe valley in your shiny shorts and sweat-free brow. your self-exalting expression taunts me as i commute to the biggest reason i haven't seen the inside of a gym in weeks. i hope you trip on your perfectly tied laces, uta wanna be.

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why, jell-o pudding pop?

whoever said that there's no such thing as a stupid question was either a liar or had never spent any significant time with you. your questions are ridiculous and you should be ashamed for even asking.

do you think you're better than me, chicken tikka?

i'm sorry, did my asking for a small americano put you out this morning, chicken tikka? you sure seem upset about having to make it. well, stop. you work at starbucks. my job is to order a coffee, and your job is to make it for me. that hardly seems unfair.

you're so stupid, top ramen.

this is not the first time you've taken public transportation. i know that because i'm on the bus with you daily. so why don't you understand that when the bus starts moving, and you're standing there not holding onto anything, you're going to fall over? you fall over onto people every single day. hold on to the fucking rails. that's why they're there.

jesus h., baked beans.

do you see these white lines i'm walking between? that's called a CROSSWALK, you motherfucker. see your car running me over? that's called HOMICIDE. so move your car back and stop being such an asshole. it's not even 9 a.m.

you're in public, philadelphia roll.

do you know why people aren't sitting next to you? and are obviously moving away from you? it's because you're making audible grunting noises. and now you're laughing to yourself. it's weird, philadelphia roll. you're a creep.

ugh, naan.

the reason you have no friends is because you are literally the worst. ever.

holy crap, milk duds.

you speak to your fucking mother with that mouth?

well, excuse me, egg rolls.

CLEARLY i didn't see you standing there, or else i wouldn't have fucking walked right into you. i don't just run into people on purpose, dickwad. it was an accident.

are you stalking me, chili cheese fries?

really? a rock through my window? there are better ways to get attention, dickface.

are you high, tortellini?

my dog hating your yappy little hamsterdog doesn't mean you have to be a dick to me. it's not my fault my dog is an excellent judge of character.

why don't you get how this works, combination fried rice?

your legs and your backpack are taking up the entire four-seater section of the bus. THE ENTIRE SECTION. four people are supposed to be able to sit here, yet there's you and your bag and your whatevers, all wedged in. sharing is caring, asshat.