manners, peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

here's a quick lesson in parking etiquette, dickface: if you're standing around your car, and it's unclear that you just got there, and i'm sitting in my car with the blinker on, it wouldn't kill you to wave and let me know you're not leaving. don't just stand there looking at me like a piece of shit, while you talk to your friends and put crap in the trunk. that's how tires get slashed.

i can smell you, funnel cake.

i don't understand why me standing here doesn't alert you to the fact this standing place has already been taken. by me. this train isn't that crowded. why are you 1 inch away from my eyelashes, you goon?

is this going to become a routine, muffuletta?

you do realize that you're living in an apartment building and there is an apartment below you, right? you don't? well that's fucking obvious, by the way you stomp around all the time. i don't get how your ankles aren't broken by now. it sounds like you're trying to kick a hole through the floor.

no problem, clam chowder in a bread bowl.

i get it that you're a tourist and you don't get how to move and walk and not be in my way, but if you can do that without being a complete dick about it, i wouldn't hate you as much.

what is your damage, mountain dew?

get a hold of yourself, mountain dew, and calm the fuck down.

get out of my way, fudge stripe cookies.

see those two lines in the middle of the street? the ones you're walking in between? they're called a crosswalk. it's not called a "stand around and take fucking pictures of the sky, even after the light changes, because i'm a tourist" walk. get it together.

yeah, whatever, fish and chips.

i'm drunkenly talking to you while i'm waiting for my drink because i'm drunk. don't flatter yourself.

what's taking you so long, cheez-it?

simple math exercise of the day: the longer it takes you to bring my bill, the lower your tip is going to be.

ew, don't touch me, kellogg's frosted flakes.

if i'm in your way, and you need to get by, a simple "excuse me, please" would suffice. you don't have to huff and puff your way around me like a passive aggressive big bad wolf. i'm not a fucking house made of sticks.

you're not my boss, spaghettios.

you almost hit me, asshole. the fact that you're on a dickwad bike and i'm in a car doesn't mean you automatically win.

i don't even want to know, ham and swiss sandwich.

when you start a story with someone's name who i don't even know, the rest of the story becomes inconsequential. i don't care what you and joe are doing when i don't even know who joe is. this type of human behavior--introducing subjects--we learned in third grade. where were you?

so that's your actual face, tomato soup with rice.

i'm sorry, did i hurt someone dear to your heart? did you watch me murder innocent kittens and puppies and babies? no? then the look you're giving me is totally unwarranted, considering all i did was GET ON THIS BUS and THEN STOOD HERE. you do realize this is public transportation, right? i didn't just fucking get into your car.

we're all in this together, cheetos.

do you think this bus is your own personal space? judging by how you're yelling all your personal fucking business into that cell phone, you do. as if there weren't 300 people around you. great, now i know what your boyfriend is doing and where you're going and how much it costs. shut the fuck up.

i can't believe you, chubby hubby.

i haven't even finished paying yet. why are you calling "next!" and waiving to the people behind me in line? where are they supposed to go while i put my shit back in my wallet?

that's rude, crab rangoon.

when you ask whether i think people would mind if you turn on music while we are watching a football game, and i answer "yes," and then you tell me that i shouldn't mind you doing it, that makes you an asshole. if you go and turn on the music anyway, that makes you a huge dick. good one, dick.

why are you still talking, pumpkin pie?

don't say things like "get your drink on" and "fo shizzle." unless it's 2005, which it's definitely not.

get over yourself, peanut m&ms.

why are you acting like me ordering food off this menu is the worst thing that's ever happened to you? you're a server in a restaurant. serving me food that i ordered is literally the main part of your job. your job title is "server in a restaurant," not dick holding a pencil and pad of paper.

are you blind, junior mints?

i'm jogging toward your face, you actually see me jogging toward you, yet you can't be bothered to move 1 inch in either direction for me to get around you. you don't own the fucking sidewalk, you selfish prig. move over and let other people use it.

enough is enough, BLT.

do you hear that screaming? that's your child. your child is screaming and hasn't shut up for a scrillion minutes. and we're in nordstrom. and he's 10. there's no reason that a 10-year-old should be screaming for that long, without you telling him to, i don't know, stop. he's making me want to get my tubes tied.

is that english, slurpee?

if you're going to blow up my facebook wall with quotes and sayings and to-do lists, the least you could do is use proper punctuation. or grammar, for that matter. hi, did you pass the 4th grade?

you're fired, lean pocket.

i don't understand why parking is so hard for you. you put your car in reverse and you park. it takes 2 seconds. why do we need to clear every roadway from here to the south bay, just so you can parallel park your stupid mini cooper? get out and let me do it.