There are so many things in life that I loathe.

I’ll name off a few.


Undercooked Spaghetti.

Holy oozing nub-dong. I freaking hate it so much. It decieves you with it’s cooked visage then once you bite into it, it sucks. It just sucks. Just who do you think you are, you pathetic useless noodle? Your one purpose on this earth is to nourish ME, and you fail at that. Nice job. You officially fail at life.


GTFO. Nobody loves you. Nobody. You hear that? Not one measley (that’s right, measley) soul on God’s green earth loves you and your specky insignifigantness. Imagine the life of a speck of dust. Where does it originate? On someone skin, perhaps? An old wrinkly skin cell, scratched off by an old prostitute. You fly around for eternity, looking for a place to settle down, but never really getting there. How depressing.

Random Corn Kernals

NO. JUST NO. I’ll see a corn kernal on the floor of my bedroom and be like, WTF. I DIDN’T EVEN EAT CORN.

Why are you here little corn kernal? What do you want from me? Is there something so important that you need to communicate to the world by being here? On my bedroom floor? The room where I sleep? Why, little kernal? Why? What are you trying to tell me?


No. Just go die and leave. That’s right. Die, and then leave. In that order.

Boob Implants That Arn’t On Your Boobs

*sigh* Is this what people spend money on nowadays?

*sigh* Is this what people spend money on nowadays?

Wtf. Is this guy so lonely that he needs the company of two fake boobies to help him ease his pain? Does he speak to them? Does he feel them up? What does his girlfriend, if he ever gets one, think of it?

Imagine finding a cute guy, only to fine out he has boob implants. On his freaking ARMS. What’s he going to do when he is an old, old man who needs the help of a freckley boy-scout to lead him across the street.

Boy: Hey mister! You should really get these checked out, they look cancerous.

Geezer: Oh no young lad, those arn’t tumors. They’re nice supple sacks of slim jim meat that I decided to implant into myself when I went through a bout of depression and loneliness in my mid twenties. Fiesty eh?

And think. By then, they won’t even be nice looking. They’ll be all wrinkly and flabby from age.