A lot of dipshits ask me, "MR JR, what is being done to you that makes you feel like your balls are being broken?". Well, shut the fuck up a minute and I'll tell ya. Getting cut off in traffic, running out of dope, screaming children in a restaurant (in a fire pit is okay... I'm not gonna help but I get it, restaurant? - no bueno), no smoking areas, too many people in the smoking area, delayed flights, waking up before the alarm goes off, cold pizza (upon arrival, not the following day), warm beer (upon arrival, not the following day), short vacations, albinos, lazy arguments, well thought out arguments, billboards, advertising in general, taxes, running out of dope, car trouble, snow, rain, sunshine, The Learning Channel, summer, fall, winter, spring, running out of dope, preachers, politicians, dance instructors, viet fucking nam, sprinkler systems, bikes, cyclists, vegans, whatever the fuck you call a non-vegan, skateboarders, moms, dads, the west coast, the east coast, all other coasts worldwide, short walks, long drives, running out of dope, Stop Calling Me Steven, the church, monks, knights, Ted Cruz, rom-coms, salad, the stink of teenagers, Panera Bread, wet paint, dry paint, getting caught huffing paint, Huffington Post, Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, Xbox, and running out of dope. But the most ball-bustin' bullshit to ever exist is McDonald's. Everything else I've listed above is horrendous, no doubt, but to wait in one of 50 fucking drive-thrus that go around the same god damn building so that each needy little prick can charge ahead full steam into each other to get there first is the worst.. Well, almost the worst. After you get off the phone with your insurance and the police don't do shit and eventually leave the 27 car pile-up that the drive thru has become, you get hit again. Fucking hard. "I'm sorry, sir, but the shake machine is down." What gives this zit-faced lackey the authority to tell Jr shit, let alone break his balls! "Get your manager." "I am the manager, sir." FUUUCCCCKKK!!!!!!!!!!@$#!$@#$@# Now I owe a deductible, I'm getting gender assumed by Danny Devito and Cher's love child, I've run out of dope, and I don't have a fucking shake!!! So next time you want to know what's breaking my balls, why not just ask me what's NOT breaking my balls. My silence will be a great indicator that I didn't have a shake that day.