Vlad was not invited, but he showed up anyway

I was awoke today to a loud knocking at my front door. Upon further inspection of who could be causing such nonsense racket at the early hour of 12:30pm, I found my old roommate, Vlad, at my front door. He was staggering drunk, something of which I do not approve of. I was particularly enraged because my porn that took 3 days to download had just finished and I was planning a World of Warcraft raid with my gild for this afternoon, and here was Vlad, reeking of vodka, stumbling around my porch.
I informed him that his presence was causing my blood pressure to rise, and at this rate I would probably not be able to have my normal daily intake of sodium. I kindly asked Vlad to remove himself from my glorious porch at once or I will have to resort to giving him a suplex or powerbomb.

"Hello big cheeseburger man. Do not make such rubbish threats of me. I will run you over with T72 or Panzer tank. I come to say Hello to you today. We have a make conversation, yes? I live bad lifestyle of black man. Vlad can has an apple juice from your refrigerator box, yes unfortunate cheeseburger American?" At this point, Vlad pushed me right through my door frame and I nearly slipped on my wonderful wooden floor. He made a rude remark about my face having liquid cheese on it and he stumbled toward my refrigerator.

"Mr. Cheeseburgr Man, your not has any apple juice for Vlad? No yes. I only can see a Pepsi in your fridge. It is only horrible cheeseburger people that drink this Pepsi. Yes, this is horrible country" Vlad boasted as if he was not even talking to me.
"Vlad, do NOT touch my PEPSI. That is for ME and ME only! Such insolence comes from your filthy Soviet mouth! I regret to inform you that Communism is awful and I am not the least bit partial to your anti-American comments. Now if you will please remove yourself from my kitchen, I must heat up my Free-toh pie. Your impertience is raising my blood pressure by the minute. I fear that if you were to cut my neck right now, boiling blood would spurt out and stain your filthy communist clothes!"

At this point Vlad started threatening my family and insulting me words like "fat chesesteak eater" and "gluttony free-toh man". He then started raving about his driving techniques and rally skills. He kept mentioning how much fun the muddy, rocky back roads of Polska are, but he could barely retain my attention. My mind was busy trying to fathom how much better America is. I hardly ever have to worry about driving on primitive, muddy roads for "sport", I don't have to drown my organs in vodka to enjoy myself, and there is Pepsi and Chee-tohs from coast to coast to capture my heart for 1000 years of freedom.