The power of accurate observation is commonly called cynicism by those who have not got it.

Get out your wok.
Pour in two cups of narcissism.
Add three ounces of insatiable sexual energy.
Stir wildly while liberally adding a sense of humor.
Add a couple teaspoons of Seventh Grade mentality.
Depending on what you have around the house, add a bag of weed, a problem with alcohol, or just a Desparate Need for Approval.
As a matter of fact, just throw that Desparate Need for Approval in anyway, otherwise it just won’t taste right.
Oh shit, I almost forgot Not Enough Love During Childhood.
Put some of that in there. I guess it should have been the first thing, huh?
Now MIX like you’ve fucking never mixed before.
Set the blender to Frappe, then take it out and kneed it lovingly.
Then Frappe it more.
Then take it out and pet it. Pet it and stroke it.
Then just jam your fist in it.
Yell at it.
Whisper it your secrets and then throw it on the floor.
Go do something else, and then come into the room like you forgot it was there and just walk around it.
Bake a cake while it’s laying on the floor.
Then step on it.
Apologize and pick it up.
Wrap it around your face and take it to the park and roll down a hill with it, laughing and tickling it.
Then throw it on the grill and light the fires, baby!
Cook for 10 or so years and then, my friends, you will have yourself your very own comedian.
Maybe the Food Channel will sign it on its own sitcom.
I’m a professional English Major, folks.
Don’t try these metaphors at home.