We're protesting too

In honor of the Olympic torch being in our very own city today we’d like to take this opportunity to protest. In case you didn't know, protesting is the new ‘I’m voting for Obama.’ Get with it.


The newspaper delivery guy.
No longer is my paper sitting outside my door when I wake up. Nope, my newspaper delivery guy has decided to half ass it and leave it out front of the building door. This means that every morning I have to navigate a 15-yard walk, in my boxers, half-asleep, avoiding neighbors and small children, bedhead and all, just to read my morning paper. I’m protesting you newspaper delivery guy. Get a clue.


Paying extra for extra Wasabi.
This is just crap. I mean, do you think McDonalds made their billions by charging for extra Ketchup? No.


High Fat Cheese.
Not by choice. My nutritionist said I shouldn’t eat the stuff. Even in moderation. Cause my moderation means an entire block of Tillamook sharp cheddar. Mmm, delicious sharp cheddar cheese. Sometimes melted. Sometimes not. Sometimes with a cracker or a toasted slice of sourdough. Sometimes not.


Lukewarm coffee.
We’ve protested this in the past but not a lot of people are listening. This is blasphemous. I want my first sip of coffee to singe the skin off of my tongue. I want to barely be able to hold the cup of coffee even with one of those little sleeve things.


Old guys on sportstalk radio.
Why do we have to listen to these guys still? Where are the dudes on the radio who talk like us? As good as the old guys are I’m tired of hearing Ralph Barbieri and Gary Radnich. Old guy jokes just aren’t funny to us. Is anyone listening to me?


The career choice of Latoya Pringle.
She was drafted 13th overall today by the New York Liberty of the WNBA. With that kind of name LP shoulda been either a rapper or a middle school lunch lady. Run yo game Miss Pringle!



Alright, Patch and I are off to the park. He needs to drop a protest on some grass. I imagine he’s protesting against the gay little vest he has to wear instead of a collar, so he doesn’t hurt his trachea from the leash. Tracheas. Who needs those anyways?

Final note: I’m having a great hair day today. Thought you should know.

PEACE!