Fred don’t play by your rules.

I'm my own man.

I don't play by the rules.

You Jell-O–faced bouncy-house-jumpin' nail-paintin' weasels may play by the rules.

Not me.

I  leave the toaster oven plugged in when I'm not using it.

I don't care 'bout no user manual. 

That's the kinda man I am.

I microwave foil.

Suck it, CPSC.

I don't floss.

I can't be bought.

Well, maybe I can be bought.

But it'll cost ya.

They do it all the time at work.

But I don't follow no rules.

I don't wash my hands after using the bathroom---although I'm an employee.

Yeah, you heard me.

I haven't put enough money away for six months' worth of expenses in case of economic hardship.

That's one of your rules.

I don't stretch out before I run.

And I run in wingtips.

And a leisure suit.

I do it my way.

I don't eat an appropriate amount of fiber daily for a man my age.

Who don't play dat?

Freddy don't play dat.

You're damn right.

I don't signal my turns.

Okay, okay, I do signal my turns.

But only because I want to.

Even when no other drivers are around.

And I don't change the vacuum cleaner bag when full.

In. Your. Face.

Yeah.

I'm Freddy.

Freddy don't follow no rules.

I before E except after C?

Inconcievable. 

See what I did there?

Keep your rules, man.

Freddie is as Freddie does. 

See? See how I spelled Freddie with an ie instead of a y this time?

Because I wanted to.

I don't do nothin' 'less I want to.

Like use a double negative.

Eat it, suckah.

Yeah, eat it. It's a delicious orange cranberry scone and I spent all morning baking it. 

So EAT IT.

Okay, that's enough. 

Because I said so.

Yeah.