Staring asshole: I did not appreciate your staring, no, I did not. Not only was it long lasting staring, it was unsettling and weird. The staring distracted me from enjoying my dinner, and made my beet and pea shoot salad lose some of its luster. All because of you, staring fucker.
Little girl in traditional garb: You were so cute I almost passed out. Your adorable colorful frilly dress and decorated braids made me wish I ran a daycare in Mexico for little tiny dancers. You totally offset the creep that crashed into me with his drink (fucker).
Unsuccessfully articulated joint where my pelvis and spine meet: Listen, SI joint. There is no call for the pain you are causing me right now. Yes, I am training my ass off, and yes, I may have fought yesterday at Mexican Fiesta (sanctioned sport fight, not kicking the ass of the drink spilling creep), but I do not have time for this. You hurt, fucker, and are making me irritable and immobile. Immobile does not work for me right now. There are people from all over the world waiting to kick my ass. So shape up, cut out all the "spasming" and work on the "feeling ok". Asshole.
Lame Tilt-a-whirl car: Once a year we hop upon you, expecting the best ride ever. But you let us down today, tilt-a-whirl car, by being completely unable to commit to a direction and give us the thrill of positional vertigo. We waffled left, then right, then left again, stuck in a limbo of carnival despair. Though the one good run of wild spinning was totally excellent and we giggled madly, we felt ripped off and do not plan to use you again, car number 4 of the tilt-a-whirl. Car 3 looked so much spinnier.
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