The Enormous Omelet sandwich from Burger King, 700 calories of eggs, bacon, sausage and cheese. I could link you to any number of news articles crying about cholesterol or sodium or some other things that bed wetters cry about (most notably that rash) but I'm going to tell you that the sandwich rocks. The only thing that might have made this sandwich better would be pepper jack cheese or hot sauce but I have hot sauce at home. It has bacon and sausage, the one two punch of our mastery over pigs. For all you ridiculous vegetarians out there, first, you have CANINE teeth. I cannot have an intelligent conversation with you. Second, pigs are large and meaty and COME WHEN YOU CALL. Nature clearly wants me to eat them.
Black Cherry Kool-Aid. I was going to just say Kool-Aid, but let's be real here. Grape and Orange don't really taste like fruit. Lime is just foul. As if I didn't have enough disdain for executives and marketing weasels, who green lighted Raw Egg Flavor?
Mustard Nirvana. The Authentic Stadium Mustard available only in Greater Cleveland formerly found only in Cleveland Municipal Stadium is the king. All other mustards must fall prostrate before it. Under no circumstance should you ever confuse it with that abomination: Official Ballpark Mustard. Never have I seen such a horrific example of coattail riding in my life. There is a special place in hell for you purveyors of Official Ballpark Mustard. Even one packet of French's yellow mustard can kick the ass of all the ketchup in the world (or catsup for you Nancies, but since you're getting your ass kicked by a packet of mustard I don't know why I care about your spelling preferences). So you take a hot dog bun and put a stripe of spicy brown mustard down one side. Then you put some yellow mustard down the other side. After that you put a heavy stripe of Authentic Stadium Mustard right down the middle. A hot dog or bratwurst is then placed in this bed of greatness and consumed to reach a higher plane.
When a train holds up traffic but only goes a few yards from the edge of the road. I can ride my bicycle across the tracks behind the last car while you buffoons wait for some rail car to get unloaded in another state, because trains are long.
Strong Bad emails
People who don't lock their cars. I have been finding the greatest stuff. There are pills and tools and a baby that only knows curse words. Well it only knew curse words when I put it back. Taking a baby from a black Honda in a grocery store parking lot and putting a newly verbal baby back in a black Honda in some other grocery store parking lot is perfectly normal, right?
Prallethrin, Lambda-Cyhalothryn and/or my urine. I have unwanted six-legged visitors: big, black roaches, the kind that eat the other roaches. Roaches are the most hated, disgusting, garbage-fed monstrosities the world has ever known. I have the roaches that eat them. I don't like to sleep at night because if they eat roaches, I must be delicious. So the fancy chemicals are sprayed all over the house but sometimes one gets through. I caught one in my lavatory and threw it in the toilet. As it tried to free itself from the water, I urinated upon it. This amused the piss out of me. Taken with the supernatural waste fluid receptacle that I have, this went on for about ninety minutes before the intruder was flushed to his confirmed death.
My hair. It's thick and luxurious and still connected to my head. Holy freaking cow is it beautiful. Does the phrase "holy cow" count as Hindi blasphemy?
Cheap rent, a phone number the creditors don't have, that dog in Kenya that was going to eat that baby before she was interrupted, school bus crashes, ten for a dollar Ramen (Chicken flavor only), the fact that I can use flavor that many times in the same rambling, and this girl that's going to buy me dinner.
Go forth, faithful reader, and be less sucky.
