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.

i don't get it, charcuterie.

i really, really need you to not stand right there because you're definitely standing way too close. you aren't just in my comfort zone, but you are actually setting up camp within my comfort zone. like, with a sleeping bag and baked beans and a guitar and campfire songs. i hate it.

nice, peach cobbler.

here's a life lesson: in a crowded parking lot, once you pass a car that's about to pull out, that space isn't yours anymore. don't try to back up as if i'm not 1 inch behind you with my blinker on.

i'm shocked, neapolitan ice cream.

how is it that you haven't been fired yet?

you're not that great, taquitos.

i don't care who this new girlfriend of yours is. i'll talk to you whenever i want to, because i was here first. get over yourselves.

i can't stand you, spinach artichoke dip.

you're rude. and you're whiney. and all i want to do is beat you up. this relationship isn't healthy for either of us.

just no, bbq potato chips.

this is the meat counter at safeway. this isn't a fucking one-on-one session with a personal chef. why would the guy behind the counter know anything about anything other than meat? if you want gourmet, go to whole foods.

use your brain, banana cream pie.

what is it about me standing here behind the lady who is paying that indicates i may not be waiting in line? why do you have to ask if i'm waiting in line? what the fuck else would i be doing here?

shut your mouth, pad thai.

if you ask me one more fucking time if i need any help in your stupid store, i'm burning the entire thing to the ground.

lay OFF, stuffed pizza.

remember when you called me last week and i said i wasn't interested in buying whatever it was you were trying to sell me? why are you acting surprised when i'm telling you the same thing today? take me off your fucking list, and stop calling me.

why do you think i care, vodka and grapefruit juice?

stop acting too cool for this train and like everyone is in your way, because your headphones aren't that great, and i can hear that you're listening to destiny's child. DESTINY'S CHILD.

you're so rude, biscuits and gravy.

you know why i ran into you right now? because you stopped short in the middle of the fucking sidewalk. next time pull over, ass face.

completely unnecessary, chili dog.

dear sir, just because san francisco does not have a law against public nudity, does not mean that your body is all of a sudden a wonderland for all to behold. for the love of god, put some fucking pants on.