Mealy apples. You expect the first bite to be a sweet and crunchy orgasm, but instead someone shit in your mouth. The smelly kind with corn in it.
My laptop battery. I’d like a battery that allows me to watch at least two seasons of Larry the Cable Guy per charge.
Quirky frog umbrellas. They’re cute with children, but not you.
Torn out notebook paper. Rule of thumb: your paper shouldn’t look like your pubes.
Losing my job. It really sucks when a Fortune 500 company fires a former Employee of the Month. Do you have any idea how many copies I made to get to the point I was? And come on, she was asking for it.
When I try to pull out a Kleenex, but two come out. I only wanted one. Now I either have to use one per nostril, blow half as hard two times, or wipe my ass.
Gift cards. OK, potential gift givers, here’s a helpful list, ranked from a smiley face to a steaming pile of diseased antelope intestines, of some common presents I’ve gotten over the years:
A birthday hug from Ludacris. That was very thoughtful, Luda.
A cheesy card and $20 bill from my aunt. Aunt Liz always knows how much I love flavored cards.
A roll of double-sided tape. You never know when that stuff will come in handy.
A $10 gift card to Target. Bearable, but it always ends up having $0.24 left over.
A set of Mega Blocks. Really? Do I look like the sort of person who plays with Mega Blocks?? Give me Legos!!!
Pokemon Blue Version. Great game, but don’t go and ask me why I never went outside and played with the other kids.
Congratulations! Now What?: A Book For Graduates by Bill Cosby. Come on mom, there are better ways to tell me it’s time to stop living in the basement playing Pokemon.
A buy one get one free coupon for digital cameras. Honestly? I have to pay for your present? And what would I do with two cameras?
A “free hug” coupon from my girlfriend. What kind of bullshit is this? For my birthday you’re announcing that you’re charging for hugs, and you’re giving me one last free one to taunt me before you begin you career as a prostitute? No. No, it’s not “cute”, it’s disgusting. This is over.
Bad toilet paper. Everyone agrees that nice TP is something you should splurge on. The other stuff only exists for the night before Prom.
People who still use incandescent light bulbs. Why?
My wife divorcing me. So I got fired and I cheated on you (again, she was asking for it). No more using my Netflix, bitch!
The phantom last step on the top of the stairs. You think you’re master of your house, until your wife divorces you. I mean, until you trip on that last step?
Erasable pens. 1) The ink doesn’t erase if you use the eraser, 2) The ink only erases onto the sides of your hands, and 3) Why not just use a pencil??
Socks. Socks are like people; there’s always a ton of them lying around, but they’re almost never paired up right. Or they’ve lost their partner. Their life-long partner.
Also, they make my feet sweat a lot more.
Bars. They’re so filled with happy, rowdy crowds watching Monday Night Football, that there’s no room for me to miserably drown my sorrows in a potent sea of alcohol.
People who wear hats inside or when it’s warm out. This, of course, is excusable for people with head colds.
When I get a birthday present from a “friend”, and I think I’m getting Jelly Bellies, but it turns out to be Bernie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans. They were funny in the book, but these are just going to sit in my drawer until I’m hungry and lazy enough to not care about swallowing vomit flavored “candy”.
Cutting fresh mozzarella cheese. It’s slimy and gross.
Rogerio. I hate his guts. I hate how he is probably taking a long and gratifying shit in MY bathroom right now, peacefully reading the nutrition facts on the back of MY box of Famous Amos cookies, while MY wife is cooking him a three-course meal for him to eat while watching Monday Night Football on MY couch. Oh wait, Rogerio isn’t watching Monday Night football, he’s playing classical Brazilian love songs while reciting Sonnet 116 to my wife over Sauvignon Blanc and flickering candlelight, because he’s a suave asshole.
I hate it when I flip the page in a book and the paper tears a little. I find that spitting on it a little and smoothing the torn parts together works well. Careful though, let the page dry before going on, because you don’t want the paper to get all wrinkly.
People who say they like Bob Marley, but really confused him with Bob Dylan until watching I Am Legend, when they downloaded Legend and listened to it once, concluding that it wasn’t really even that good.
Gourds! Huh. What are they good for? Absolutely nothing.
When socks get dirty and they become brown on the bottom forever, no matter how much I wash them.
Broken crayons. Need I say more?
The fact that you put peanut butter on mouse traps. Didn’t the manufacturers read The Town Mouse and the Country Mouse?? Mice like cheese!
Trying to pull out a paper towel to dry my hands but instead ripping out a piece only suitable for drying my left pinky.
I fucking hate it when have no more money for heroin and all I want is a goddamn hit. And then when I pull out my pistol and try to take some, five giant assholes come from nowhere and now I’m in this shithole of a hospital with cops all around questioning me when I just need to get fucking wired.
Another thing about socks: I hate when you’re wearing socks, and you step in an invisible spill on the floor. That just sucks.
