- My parents having sex.
- My genitals being pureed in a blender.
- “I’m referring you to a specialist. A proctologist.”
- The cracking sound of my own bone breaking.
- “The DNA test confirms you’re the father.”
- “According to our compression test, you have a blown head gasket.”
- The smacking sound of peanut butter making the tongue of a 330-pound man sitting next to me on a city bus stick to the roof of his mouth.
- “You’ll have to go in person to the Department of Motor Vehicle for that.”
- A sumo wrestler passing a knife.
- A baby’s cry broadcast through a megaphone.
- “Your arraignment will be next Tuesday.”
- Anything produced by Max Martin.
- My laptop being crushed by a car tire.
- “Achy Breaky Heart.”
- “We will have to wait on the tarmac for two more hours before we are cleared for takeoff.”
- The distinct thud sound of a door not closing properly because your finger was in the jamb.
- “Next up on 98.1 we have the newest from Luke Bryan!”
- Chris Brown explaining why he’s actually the victim.
- Florida Georgia Line without Auto-tune.
- My girlfriend struggling with violent diarrhea.
- A puppy being stepped on.
- “It’s Cancer.”
But except for that, I look forward to receiving my copy and being the model of objectivity in my coverage of Jamie Lynn Spears’ forthcoming country album.
….actually strike that “Acky Breaky Heart” one. I think I’d rather take my chances with Ms. Nickelodeon.
Welcome to country music Jamie!