I hereby request that you kick me in the head if...

• I ever become too "sophisticated" to be at least mildly amused by professional wrestling.
• I ever lose a quality meal/yacht ticket like Britney through my own asshole tendencies (although male gold diggers everywhere are relieved that they no longer have to consider Mr. Federline the equivalent of their pope).
• you ever catch me drinking PBR or Bud Light at the Mission.
• I ever become one of those assholes who thinks that stopping his car square in the middle of the crosswalk has replaced blowing donuts in the principal's lawn as the coolest thing you could possibly do with your car. You see that shorter line before the crosswalk? Yeah, the painter didn't miss. That's where you're supposed to stop, jackass.
  
• I ever start using the word respect more than five times a day, hence rendering it meaningless whenever it passes through my lips.
• I switch to MySpace.
• I decide that goat cheese is a good idea. Anyone who has spent any time around a goat should know better than to eat something that comes out of one.
• my children or my children's children decide Jar Jar Binks is their favorite Star Wars character.
• you ever catch me paying a cover that's more than 5 bucks.
• I ever vote for someone merely for the sake of voting. People shouldn't vote unless they genuinely like one candidate or flat out despise their pick's opponent. Along those same lines, any politician who really cares about the nation should be embarassed about winning an election where less than 75% of his or her town/county/district/state/country goes to the polls, because if that's the case then he or she obviously wasn't particularly compelling.
  
• I ever begin to suspect that going to Wentworth to get my Computer Science degree rather than going somewhere else for a Journalism degree was a bad idea. Actually, before you kick me, sit me down in front of Fox News, MSNBC, or any nightly newscast. If I still think I should've gone for that Journalism degree, just fucking shoot me.
• I become one of those people who can't stay in one bar for more than half an hour.
• I begin to consistently use "I'm tired, I think I'm getting old" as an excuse for not going/staying out before I'm thirty-five years old. Being legitimately worn out is one thing...blaming it on the fact that you're 25 is another.
• I don't stop complaining and go to bed right now.