I don't understand...

…why you tell everyone you have a Prince Albert.

Listen, if you want to pierce your genitalia, go for it.  But that does not mean that we all need to hear you constantly telling anyone within earshot about it.  And I think I can speak for everyone when I say, we certainly don’t want to see it. 

You’re 43, paunchy, have skin the colour of skim milk and appear to have hair in all the wrong places.  Need I continue?

…why you twitter.

There are a variety of legitimate reasons and uses for the Twitter service and I can assure you that your on-going drivel doesn’t fall under any of those categories.  No one needs to know about your personal hygiene habits, food intake, sleep cycles and wardrobe conundrums, especially in real-time.

In the spirit of twitter, here’s my message to you (limited to 140 characters or less of course)

SHUT UP, YOU BORING BAG OF WIND.

…why you refer to yourself as a “foodie” while eating in a fast food restaurant.

Surely your jest sir! You’re eating a burger and fries at Wendy’s and have the audacity to tell your friend that you consider yourself a “foodie”? On what planet, might this be possible? Do tell. Do tell.

Perhaps you’re an aficionado of French Fry grease? Because the way you’re scarfing down those fries and the size of the “overhang” above your belt leads me to believe that might be the case.

Listen closely Julia Child. Sitting on your couch and watching the Food Channel all day doesn’t make you a foodie – nor does it give you the right to treat combo #6 from Wendy’s as though it is some sort of gastronomic treat for your senses, you pompous ass.

…why you talk about the television show LOST as though the characters really did experience a plane crash.

It’s called television honey. And it’s there to ENTERTAIN you – not provide you with hours of mundane conversation with other co-workers - when you should be DOING YOUR JOB. Let me guess, you stopped watching Soap Operas because they were just too “real”, didn’t you?

Wait, do you hear that? It’s the REALITY BELL and it’s ringing JUST FOR YOU. Spend a little less time in front of the television agonizing over the latest plot twist and – oh I don’t know – EXERCISE, READ A BOOK or VOLUNTEER, you numb-skull.

…why you treat your dog like a human being.

I get it.  You don’t seem to be able to “put a bun in your oven”, which I guess is somewhat sad, if you do indeed really want children.  Nevertheless, treating your dog like a child isn’t cutting it.  And no, I won’t call “Sparky” by the more politically correct term of “companion animal”, you loser.

Of course he’s ALWAYS happy to see you; he has a brain the size of a walnut!   As an aside, you’d need a brain that size to NOT notice that your wrinkle-free top is anything but – but I digress…

In short, please stop:

• Cooking special meals as treats for him;
• Adjusting our plans at the last minute, so he doesn’t get “lonely”;
• Showing people photos of him from your wallet.

Do us all a favour and please live your “Marley and Me” moments in private – without drawing everyone around you into your own little brand of canine insanity.

...why you think anyone wants to hear you sing-along with the song you’re listening to on your iPOD.

Listen sweetie, I can rock-out with the best of them, but I typically do it in the privacy of MY OWN HOME.  I think I can speak for all of us, when I say that your off-key, karaoke-inspired rendition of that Alicia Keys song is a Canadian-Idol masterwork FROM HELL.  

Please, save the sing-along for the mornings when we both know you stand in front of the mirror belting out hit after hit while using your hair-brush as a wireless microphone.  Wait, is that a dog I hear howling in the background?  Oh, not it’s you trying to reach the “upper register” you nit-wit!

...why you think turning your home into an igloo is being eco-friendly.

Did I miss something?  Are you a vampire, zombie or some other creature of the living dead?  I can think of no other reasonable explanation for the fact that you’ve invited us all over for dinner and thought it was ok to keep your thermostat at a whopping 12-degrees Celsius.

Do you want us to all huddle together and heat your house through our own body heat?  Could you not at least have told me to “bring a sweater”?

If you’re a bit short on cash this month, I have a suggestion for you.  Put a stop to your constant influx of DVD and CD purchases and RAISE THE THERMOSTAT a few degrees, you idiot!

...why you insist on "complementing" every conversation with sexual innuendo.

Despite my better judgement, it appears sir as though you’re a grown adult.  So, please explain to me why you see fit to work in some form of sexual innuendo into every conversation we ALL have to experience with you?!?

• Giggling at the word “hard drive”?  Check!
• Making suggestive hand gestures when using the phrase “tracks of land”?  Check!
• Becoming distracted when ANY female walks by and following that up with suggestive eye-brow movements?  Check!

It’s not funny, it’s sad – kind of like the poly-blend shirts with stains on them that you wear to work everyday.  Here’s a suggestion.  Save your bawdy talk for the umpteen ads you post on Craigslist in the “Casual Encounters” section.   You can review them when you’re home alone on yet another Saturday evening, wondering why no one has “hit you up” for a passionate rendezvous.

...why you think coughing into your hands will not spread germs.

You sir are disgusting.  Do you really think I want to touch any of the paperwork you’re handing me to renew my license after you spent the last 5 minutes hack-coughing into your hand?!?  Give the amount of ink on your arms and the dim look in your eyes, I have a suggestion for you.  Stop staying out all night at your little all-night-rave and get some sleep, drink plenty of fluids (non-alcoholic) and TAKE A SHOWER. 

If you still don’t feel well, STAY HOME and repeat the above steps, you dim-wit!

...why you think it is ok to come back from holidays looking like a lobster.

Ok, we get it.  You’re special enough to have escaped the “Canadian Winter” for warmer pastures.  In addition to the warmer temperatures, it appears as though you’ve managed to spend ample amount of time baking in the sun – TOO MUCH TIME, YOU MORON.   Do you not realize how ridiculous you look shivering at a table near the door of this restaurant while at the same time looking an non-paid extra for a skin cancer public service announcement.  It’s called sun-block, now use it or you’ll end up looking like the pleather on the cheap knock-off purse you’re carrying around with you.