Who took my electric blue Maserati Grand Turismo, stuck it in the middle of Grand Central, and then roped it off so I can't get to it? (Get your F'N hands OFF my car, plebeians!!)
What is so compelling about the show Tell Me You Love Me to someone who isn't even married?
When are you people going to learn to RESPECT my authoritai and vote on my poll questions? Too far for you lazies to roll the mouse? Dang.
Where's my Hassenpfeffer?
Why do I enjoy international-phone-text-trash-talking with a particularly mouthy Scottish Celtic fan every time Celtic plays A.C. Milan? Her team won yesterday, on a cheap goal as time expired. I guess the sun can't shine on the same dog's ass every day of the week.
Last verse, same as the first
Who is going to be my wingman this fall? (Somebody, any-fucking-buddy!)
What makes me think I can tolerate a dog when a sock on the floor makes my left eye twitch?
When did drafting privilege logs become such a thorn in the anus? Can't we just produce everything and call it a day?
Where is my job satisfaction? Have you seen it anywhere, because I haven't.
Why can't I get paid thousands of dollars to blog for a living?
Last verse, same as the first
Who else thinks that Another One Bites The Dust can't be played at any fewer than 300,000,000 decibels?
What would possess someone to write about monkey pee? (And enjoy it!)
When did my married friends' suburban McMansion parties become so fucking intolerable?
Where the hell is my life going, precisely?
Why should I care? We all end up in the same place.
