This morning, I was making my usual trek into work when I noticed these Starbucks posters plastered on every other bus stop. These Frappucino drinks are pictured in various settings as if they were people. It’s incredibly stupid. Didn’t anyone learn their lesson with those stupid Snapple commercials that were running? Personifying the product is a hack idea that should be punishable by death. Yes, I’ve been guilty of doing it myself. But then again, I’m a hack. Personifying The Product sucks. And so do I.

Since when do I have to give up my personal information just so I can get the lowest price on my groceries? Fuck you. Charge me full price. I’d rather cough up the extra fifty cents then have every marketing executive in your goddam corporation know how many times I buy toilet paper and what the condition of my bowel is. Do I have a Ralphs Club card? No. Do I want one? No. And don’t give me that bullshit about how much money I could have saved. I don’t give a shit. Grocery Store Discount Cards suck.

Hey, you, the woman in the minivan with the license plate that reads “POG MHOM,” you are a fucking idiot and you suck. We now return you to our regularly scheduled rant.

What’s with all of these people at the health food store sporting the bandana and sandals look? Do they secretly dream of being pirates? Is it some kind of new religion I’m not aware of? That ratty T-shirt. Those worn out sweat pants. They look like they just got out of bed and wandered into the grocery store. Which most likely isn’t too far from the truth. I don’t know, maybe I’m just jealous that I can’t pull off this kind of look. Where do you even find a bandana these days? Bandana Heads suck.

I remember my adolescent years, waking up to find yet another embarrassing growth on my face. I’d break out the Clearasil and I’d do what I could to cover up those puss-filled lumps. The only thing that got me through it all was dreaming about reaching that age when I would never have to deal with another zit again.

That age, apparently, doesn’t exist.

Sure, once you get older, acne isn’t so much of a problem (unless, of course, you have a career in fast food). But if you get stressed out or you start to eat really poorly, your face is going to let you know about it. Sorry, kids, acne never magically goes away. It just sits under your skin, waiting for the most inappropriate time to expose itself: Your wedding day. That big job interview. A first date. Adult Acne sucks.

Do you desire all of the taste of real cola without all the calories? Do you want to eat potato chips without any fat? Then you, my friend, are severly fucked up. Here’s a news flash: There is no miracle drink, candy bar or food additive that is going to make you thin forever. If you want to lose weight, you need to fucking exercise and eat a proper diet. Unless, of course, you’d rather have a bag of Olestra-laced potato chips and spend the rest of the day sitting on the toilet. Come to think of it, you might lose a lot of weight that way. Maybe I’m wrong. Still, Diet Food sucks.

The helmet law should be repealed. A cyclists should have a choice whether he or she wants to wear a helmet. Sure, they’re riding the equivalent of a missle on two wheels, but who are we to tell them what to do? Personally, I say let them have their fun. Let them weave in and out of traffic. Let them drive up between lanes, barely missing our side mirrors. And let them do it with their hair blowing in the wind. Because when they take that big spill (and you know they will), I don’t want there to be any chance of survival. Who are we to mess with the process of natural selection? Impatient Motorcyclists suck.

In my home, I have a large Tupperware* container brimming with change. About 95 percent of that change consists of pennies. Yes, pennies. Those fucking little copper-colored pieces of shit. You’ll find them all over my house: Under stacks of paper. Lying on the floor. Stuck to the soles of my feet. They seem to be breeding. Why do I have so many of these stupid coins? Because of jackass marketers who refuse to sell something for an even dollar. Everthing is $3.99 or 99 cents, which sounds like such a bargain compared to $4.00 or one buck. Yeah, right. Pennies suck.

*Tupperware is a registered trademark of the Tupperware corporation of America. Blah blah blah blah blah.

I was just thinking today, how great it would be to be an asshole. You know, to be able to drive into the parking lot the wrong way and steal a space from somebody without giving a shit what anybody thinks about it. Or to be able to get into the Ten Items Or Less lane at the supermarket with eleven items or more. That’d be great. Then there’s the whole One Night Stand thing. To have the abiltiy to take advantage of somebody’s vulnerability, coax them into bed and then kick them out to the curb as soon as you’re through. Man, that would be amazing. Too bad I care. Having A Conscience sucks.

I was pretty busy last weekend. No, I wasn’t outside and being sociable like normal people. I was inside going through the torture of ripping my entire CD collection onto my computer’s hard drive. Why? That’s not the point. The point is, while I was busy ripping, I noticed that a few of the CDs had about ten tracks at the end of them that were completey empty. See, the trick is, you think the CD is over. But five minutes later, oh joy, lucky me, another crappy song.

What is the point of this bullshit? I mean, aside from pissing me off. Am I supposed to jump for joy that I found a hidden track? I guess I would, if the track was any good. But more often than not (meaning never), the track is a huge turd. It sounds like something the band whipped up in the studio after snacking on some magic mushrooms. Fortunately, thanks to modern science, I can now go into these CDs and remove the offending mattter for good. Still, that doesn’t make it any less of a pain in my ass. CDs With Secret Tracks suck.