You know what really burns my biscuits? Failure to flush a toilet. Like I really wanna start my morning with an eyeful of steaming turd left abandoned like some Dickensian orphan. This is a place of business. Not some boarded up flop house with junkies strewn around like throw pillows. What could possibly be consuming so much of your minimally available brain power than you can’t remember to dispose of your own feces? Is this some kind of passive aggressive mind game? Is this like when my cat craps on the rug to teach me a lesson about whatever has burnt his biscuit on that particular day? Do you do this at your own house? If I came over would I just find floaters galore if I tried to use the facilities? I’m not saying I’m anywhere near perfect or that anyone should strive to be, but isn’t lowering a lever to flush away your brown apples like one of the lowest bars ever? Burnt biscuits never killed anyone, but I might.
You know what really burns my biscuits? Convenience store drink selections. There’s always a free for all of sugary crap to murder your insulin levels, but like one sugar free option. And it’s always the most shit option. I’m looking at you blue Powerade. Thanks, but I’ll pass on the Smurf spooge. This goes for soda too. Like how can there be all of these “Get Healthy” campaigns and yet no healthy options? Maybe sometimes you don’t want fucking water. Maybe you’ve already had your eight glasses and want something colored or carbonated. Is that too much to ask? The rows of twenty seven different full sugar flavored Gatorades and fifty fuck me thousand sugar packed sodas are literally killing my soul and this country. Is it really any wonder we’re a country of diabetes prone fat asses? Burnt biscuits never killed anyone, but I might.
You know what really burns my biscuits? The hypocrisy of the female celebrity (and by extension the rest of us) weight discussion. On the one hand its, “Oh, that cheeky Adele is just gorgeous!” or “That Ashley Graham is so brave and beautiful!” But then, these same ass suckers turn around and act like Jessica Simpson needs to slap on a burka to go outside, cause god forbid, she fail to conform to the bobble head Barbie Doll standard for once in her life! Mariah Carey has aged like any normal person would over a twenty year span, but that doesn’t stop the snarky comments about it. Of course, whenever she takes off the pounds it’s like she’s the shiny new Mother Teresa of the moment. She may not have cured cancer, but damn she shed that baby weight! I’m not saying there’s anything unattractive or unappealing about any of these people. All I’m saying, is I find the double standard ridiculous. It’s like sorry you gained fifteen pounds. But gross. You should probably, definitely just go kill yourself. Never mind that your ass, is now the same size as this other ass, that we’re all fighting to shove our stupid ass heads directly inside of because somehow it’s different. WTF?! Don’t even get me started on “Dad Bods.” Burnt biscuits never killed anyone, but I might.
You know what really burns my biscuits? People that leave an entire car length at a red light. Like what are the odds that someone is going to come crashing into your rear end and that’s going to save your rear end? Cause that’s what you are. You are a horses’ ass. You are the place where poo comes from. To every person trying to make it into the turn lane, but can’t thanks to you, you are the poo originator. Not the slangy cool kind of poo. Like the smelly turd you wanna pass but can’t poo. You are the obstruction. You are the constipated car length and everyone hates you. So please, give it a try you log jam leavers. I beg you. Burnt biscuits never killed anyone, but I might.