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.