Unfrozen ice turds – okay losers, just because it snowed 20 inches, doesn’t give you the right to kick snow over your dog’s business and skip away. Now that the snow is mostly melted, these chunks of wet poo are festering in the sun like bacon on a skillet. Disgusting.
Lingering regurgitation smell – whoever ralphed all over my condo building’s lobby before dying in the bushes (I presume), shame. The. smell. will. not. leave.
Skype spammers – I will hunt down the perpetrators with a vengeance and forgive them their sins. Then I will crack skulls.
Stupid Olympic ‘Events’ – the Biathlon? With its lycra suits, uphill skiing, and guns. A winning combination invented by polar bear hunters and stolen by the Russians. Curling? When you can’t afford to build a bowling alley and craft a round ball, you go play behind the shed on thin ice with sticks and stones. Snowboarding? Go back to bone-crunching into trees and face-planting into snowbanks. The world wants its medals back.
Facebook redesign – listen Facebook, everybody uses you. A lot. Stop trying to fit in and just be.
Magic Grow Creatures – Just add water! Bad impulse purchase in an attempt to relive my childhood. Slimy, gross, probably toxic, and vastly unimpressive. Now how to dispose of the other seven rubbery nuggets of vaguely safari shapes without killing whatever still lives in the Anacostia River?
Trying to be Canadian – no dice on the poutine, Good Stuff Eatery. Your burgers, tasty, but keep clear of the Olympic-themed cubes of cheese curds and gravy gruel. No one wins.
Blustery, gusty wind – you are frigid and friendless. Stop.
The Bitter End – I always fight until it. Seems I lose.
