not so fast, turkey sandwich.

don't let people walk all over you, turkey sandwich. stand up for yourself every once in a while. nobody likes a doormat.

why, thank you, chickpea salad.

your mom really raised you right. it was so polite of you to hold the door open for me as we walked into the building. especially seeing as how i was RIGHT behind you. thanks!

were you raised in a barn, gatorade?

ewww, could you wipe the treadmill after you're done using it? it looks like a fucking water balloon filled with sweat exploded all over this thing. there are paper towel dispensers on every single wall in this stupid germ-infested gym. use one. or 12.

i can't believe how rude you are, buttered roll.

in order to get by me, you had two options: politely say excuse me, or shove past like a fat little bulldozer. clearly you chose the more annoying of the two options, or i wouldn't be writing this.

stand back, hot pocket.

you're literally standing so close, that if you moved your leg even 1 millimeter, you'd be sharing my pants with me. and that's not a good thing.

just stop it, potstickers.

listen, lady: people understand how empty seats on the bus work. if they want to sit, they'll fucking sit. you don't have to keep patting the empty seat next to you to let them know that they can fucking sit. they're not blind.

i don't even know what you're supposed to be, vodka cranberry.

just because a costume exists in the universe does not mean you need to make it sexy. i get that you're probably not actually a slut, and this is the one time a year that you can show off your body or whatever, but "sexy spongebob" and "sexy sea turtle" aren't actually things. it's really weird.