A selected list of shit that's currently got me shooting steam out of my ears...

- So apparently "gnocchi" created quite a kerfuffle at the office cafeteria early today. Gnocchi, with your choice of vegetables and chicken or shrimp was the special of the day, but fuck me if people didn't act like a bunch of 4-year-olds who refuse to eat broccoli.

"What's 'gunochee?' I ain't gonna eat nuthin' I can't pronounce."

You won't eat gnocchi, which is FUCKING DELICIOUS, but you'll eat dry-assed pork barbeque and some gross-looking cheeseburger that's been sitting under a hot lamp for hours?

Fucking philistines.

- My local NPR affiliate is doing their bi-annual pledge drive, which means one thing, and one thing only, for me: more condescending pleas from my local NPR affiliate to me to send them money. Listen, guys: I've already contributed. And I don't want to hear you on my commute to work. Can't you just exclude me from your pledge drives and let me listen to Morning Edition and All Things Considered without your breathlessly earnest requests for more money?

This is killing me. I'm forced to listen to local morning shows wax philosophically about NASCAR and 10 ways to turn your lover on in bed. 

- I hate that Chelsea won the English Premier League title. My hatred for Chelsea knows no bounds. And now I got to listen to shit from fly-by-night Chelsea fans (a trendy bunch who probably never heard of Chelsea when they were pure shit) all off-season long.

I hate their sleazy punk-ass captain who thought it was perfectly acceptable to have an extra-marital affair...with a teammate's wife. I hate their pretty-boy striker who threw a colossal hissy fit over not being able to convert a penalty kick during the match! I hate Frank Lampard...actually, I don't. He's class, I'll give him that.

 Go get bent. And enjoy watching Manchester United stomp your asses silly next season.

-  Seriously, someone take Andy Rooney out back and put him out of his misery. Throw a bag over his head or something. His two-minutes rants near the end of 60 Minutes are usually cringe-inducing, but his colossally stupid rant about not knowing who Justin Bieber or Lady Gaga or Usher is was so fucking juvenile. I get it: you're old. You don't understand us young kids with our long hair and that loud rock n' roll. 

His stupid rant displays just how mean-spirited and ugly this old fartbag really is. Not that I give a fuck about Justin Bieber (more on his girly ass in one second) or Lady Gaga, but to drop that condescending line about us young kids not knowing who Ella Fitzgerald is was beyond inexcusable. I do FUCKING know who Ella Fitzgerald was: she was the greatest female singer that's ever walked this earth, bar none.

So go get bent. And while you're at it, you bladder control-challenged assbag, TRIM YOUR FUCKING EYEBROWS! They look like a pair of feral kittens fucking one another.

- And speaking of Justin Bieber...are you fucking with me? This is what's gotten the girls' all crazy amongst themselves? A pre-pubescent little twerp with a voice like a deranged chipmunk who's gotten his tiny grape nutsack caught in a binder clip? And that haircut...I thought Donald Trump had the worst hair ever, but Bieber's a-furry-chinchilla-is-trying-to-impregnate-my-skull hairdo is just unspeakably awful. Mind you, I've only recently figured out who Justin Bieber is. Not that I was going to be impressed, but, c'mon. Just wait until his voice cracks and his nuts drop; he'll be tossed out like a 16-year-old member of Menudo. Last week's news, baby.

- I'm getting pimples on my forehead. What the fuck! Did I turn 17 again, for some unknown reason? And, yeah, I'm using ProActive. I feel like such a tool. ProActive? Christ. Someone get me some Clearasil and a 1-900 party line to go along with my parachute pants and my LA Gears...

- Finally...fuck you, Arizona.