America! Fuck yeah!

Reasons why America will not grant me a visa:

1. I hate Hallmark. Makes me want to starve myself and smoke cigarettes around babies and snort coke with your grandma.

Stupid cards with bunnies saying “40 years young” and pathetic little quips about how much your colleagues will miss you now that you’ve quit. Hate to tell you, but forty is not young unless you’re 80. If you’re getting cards like that at forty you should probably shoot yourself because the friends you have now obviously suck for picking out that card for you, or suck even more because they didn’t put in any effort and just grabbed it off the shelf (wtf were they doing in Hallmark anyway?). Oh, and it looks like you’ll be stuck with them for the rest of your life as you clearly lack the social skills to befriend anyone who has a modicum of use to the rest of society. End it. Trust me. No one will blame you. At least you won’t have to listen to a badly written eulogy with quirky anecdotes about your unmomentous life.

Signs to put on your desk in a prominent position for all your colleagues to see declaring “Good morning let the stress begin!” Damn straight your day is going to be stressful. Want to know why? Because you’re lame and I’m going to mash your face in today.

Aprons embroidered with “Danger! Grandpa is Cooking!” Look, if grandpa is enough of a danger that he needs a warning sign, perhaps he should not be cooking. Perhaps he should be in a home. Just a suggestion.

“I’m the big sister” hats. You only really need to wear these if your mother got knocked up really young and then finally found a rich douche to remarry her fifteen years later and then popped out a kid with him. Then people might think you’re just another teenage ho when you’re out with your infant sibling – that is, unless you’re wearing the hat. And if you’ve got one of the “I’m the big brother” caps then it’s just another way of declaring to society that you’re a teenage guy who hates wrapping up his weiner because that shit ain’t cool and you got it on with some chick who was just begging for it. Basically, you now not only have this little piece of DNA hanging with you and your homies, but your penis will probably be worthless before you reach your twenties – it’ll fall off from some vicious teenage strain of herpes.

2. I hate excessive use of exclamation marks. Don’t even mention “emoticons”.

3. I refuse to join company baseball and kickball teams. Look, I don’t socialise with you at work, why would I want to see you after work? And please don’t tell me that it’s an excuse to drink. It’s kinda pathetic if you’re 30 and feel like you need an excuse to drink. (I am not bitter about not being invited to join said teams anyway, I don’t care what you say.)

4. I buy my wifebeaters from the dodgy Hispanic shop down the street, not American Apparel. And they have stickers on them saying “minor imperfections” and sometimes have three armholes.

5. I like to read books in English. Not American English. I prefer their method of spelling and punctuation. Yes, I know I’m in America dumbass.

6. Ass. Ass is another name for a donkey. Not bottom. Everywhere else we call your president an arsehole.

7. “News” to me means current affairs around the world. By “current affairs” I do not mean the sexual activities of the rich and famous (or the not so rich and infamous either).

8. I don’t tan and I like SPF 50 sunscreen. I would rather die young and internally cancerous from smoking than live a long, happy life looking like a cow’s mottled udders.