Overhearing people's conversations makes me want to stab my fucking ears out. I swear to Christ, if it weren't for the music of Johnny Cash, Elvis, and a million other talented musicians, I may very well take a knife to my ear canal. Or a pencil. Whatever was available, I'd grab it.

If I have to hear about this guy's fucking kid getting his gay skull anklet tattoo one more fucking time, I just might do it.

Or if these two guitar-slinging, tattooed California "dudes" rape one more fucking Weezer song, I just might find out how hard it truly is to fit an entire acoustic guitar inside of a man's peehole.

And to think, once I get there, I'm still only halfway done.