… "Collectors Edition" magazines. I'm supposed to keep People's Best (and Worst) Dressed in a vacuum-sealed bat-cave, in case there's a Hannah Montana shortage in the future?
… correcting me when I use 'I' instead of 'me' as the object of the verb. There's a good reason you have mastered the various uses of the first person, Spanky. It's because you are alone most of the time.
… antioxidants. What did oxygen ever do to you?
… "lol". A simple "nice" says it all. If you send me a topless shot from the UK Sun, I don't reply with "ptik" (pup-tent in khakis) do I?
...loot bags. I need my kids fighting about the ownership of candy they're not supposed to be eating like I need pinata-themed underwear.
...Tudors. Any show that doesn't portray Henry VIII as a fat, bearded ponce, holding a turkey drumstick is obviously not based on historical fact.
...Legend. This is the most embarrassingly undead album ever. To call this cult collection 'repetitive' and 'unwelcome' is an insult to Barney. The reggae equivalent of cranking Dark Side of the Moon - in its entirety - at every party, pub and outdoor event of the year. Owners of this album should have their citizenships revoked, sent to Jamaica, and forced to busk Lynyrd Skynyrd songs after midnight in Kingston. Say what you want about Tupac, he at least releases new shit every six months or so. Get up, Stand up, Change the f*cking disc.