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.