I hate it when women sell cologne and have mustaches. I realize that’s specific and I’m not saying this is an epidemic, but it seems like her lip pony might be antithetical to her workplace environment. I mean I know she’s selling a scent and not working for say Maybelline or Dr. Zizmore or something, but come on.
How can I ever trust your sense of smell if your vision is so bad that you can’t even see you’ve turned into Hispanic Ron Jeremy? To be fair, though I bought no cologne, in the end all I could think about was running my fingers through that little black toothbrush of hair and then cooking eggs Benedict with the grease.
Also, I hate helium. What business do you have just running out? What do you really do anyway? Hold up my baloons? I can hold up my own balloons. Make the octave of my voice really high? I’ll just cut off my balls and become a helium-free eunuch. Problem solved. Fuck you, helium, and your devious ways. I’ve known you since I was a kid. I thought we’d be together forever. Wow, maybe this isn’t about helium at all. Maybe helium is a metaphor for life, relationships, loss. I hate overzealous metaphors.