Stop giving me that pop-up ad for classmates.com! There's a reason I don't talk to people for 25 years, and I assure you, it ain't because I don't know where they live? Besides, I already know what the captain of the football team is doing these days, he's mowing my damn lawn.

There's no such thing as flavored water. There's a whole aisle of this shit at the supermarket, water, but without that watery taste. Sorry, but flavored water is called a soft drink. You want flavored water? Pour some scotch over ice and let it melt. That's your flavored water.

Stop fuck'n with old people. Target, in their infinate whit and wisdom, is introducing a redesigned pill bottle that's square, with a bigger label, and the top is now the bottom. By the time grandpa figures out how to open it, his ass will be in the morgue. Congratulations, Target, you just solved the Social Security crisis.

Have you ever noticed, the more complicated the Starbucks order, the bigger the asshole. If you walk into a Starbucks and order a "decaf Grande half-soy, half-low fat, iced vanilla, double-s hot, gingerbread cappuccino, extra dry, light ice, with one sweet-n'-Low, and one NutraSweet," ooh, you're a huge asshole.

Just because your tattoo has Chinese characters in it doesn't make you spiritual. It's right above the crack of your ass, the the damn thing translates to "beef with broccoli." The last time you did anything spiritual, you were praying to God you weren't pregnant. You're not spiritual. You're just fuck'n high.

Competitive eating isn't a sport. It's one of the seven deadly sins. ESPN recently televised the U.S. Open of Competitive Eating, because watching those athletes at the poker table was just too damned exciting. What's next, competitive farting??? Oh wait!? They're already doing that. It's called "The Howard Stern Show."

No more gift registries. You know, it used to be just for weddings. Now it's for babies and new homes and graduations from rehab. Picking out the stuff you want and having other people buy it for you isn't gift giving, it's the white people version of looting.

When I ask how old your toddler is, I don't need to know in months. "27 Months." "He's two," will do just fine. He's not a cheese. And I didn't really care in the first place.