Full disclosure: I am definitely, 100% a garbage person. That's why I'm allowed to write about this stuff.
Alternate take: I am definitely, 100% a garbage person, and that's why my editors always assign me these articles.*
Anyway, let's take a look at the people who are constantly pushing the boundaries of "why the heck would you do that, you monster?"
*Editor: Yeah, it's the second one.
"Mr. Yard, I don't feel so good..."
You'd think by Halloween that I would've been over the trauma, but nooope...
But you know what they say: When life gives you lemon Starburst...you burn the candy factory to the ground and find yourself some strawberry Starburst.
Yeah, that spongy mess inside my skull is like a broken DVR that only records quotes from 2002 "Everybody Loves Raymond" episodes and deletes every password I need. Somehow we make it work.
I hate that show so much, and now I'm gonna have little bits of it running back and forth around my head all day. Why do I do this to myself?
Listen, nobody eats Pop-Tarts because things are going well in their life. Just let us have the icing we saw on the package, please.
How many hours of homework are kids on now? Can't they have a break on a snow day? Who hurt you, school board?
Plus, they get to rap in the empty halls, I guess? Awesome.
Also, and I'm not saying I could do better, but that's a sloppy "S" — get it together.
Just consider that it's 2018, and you don't need to go around giving people an excuse to stare at someone else's chest for an extended period of time.
Why would you do this to me, or anyone who remembers Toy Story as innocent fun?
I tried this once, but all I got was my car towed and a restraining order from the mini-golf place across the street from my apartment.
Which seems like discrimination to me, but what do I gnome about it?
I gotta say, this is some next-level, evil-genius, passive-aggressive gift-giving.
I mean, just look at how many dashes it took to even describe what happened! Outrageous.
It's pretty simple to follow: can you see the person pooping through the door? Yes? Change the door.
Honestly, I know I'm terrible too. I could write articles about my own mistakes, but I would literally never finish them before the list kept growing.
So get out there and...I dunno. Do stuff badly? Make mistakes?
I'm sorry, I should've thought this message through first. Clearly, I am trash.
