I was thinking of putting out a personal ad. Smart, funny, sensitive, constipated man seeks caring, understanding…oh crap! How do you delete?!
I’ve found that hours of fun are just a key and an electrical outlet away.
My best dog ever was named Sir Barkum. He was pretty small for a dog, and I was never able to teach him how to roll over, or go fetch. He had these cute beady eyes though, and this long hairless tail, and grey matted fur, and he was always bringing me little presents from the sewer where I first found him, where he liked to run off and frolic sometimes. Probably chasing sewer cats, the little scamp. I remember this one time he bit me and I got this really bad fever, and I was sick for about a week, and I kept thinking the walls were trying to steal my underwear. We had a lot of good times, my dog and I. Then one day my cat ate him.
I think a good commercial for McDonald’s would be "Crappy food for crappy people." Because people like honesty.
The other day, I was walking down the street, and I happened upon two small children having an argument. “Oh yeah? Well you’re a stinkypants!” And I just thought to myself how deeply true that is. Out of the mouths of babes.
The Olympics are here, but I can’t wait for the next summer games. I’ve been practicing my pig hucking since the last ones. What do you mean that’s not an event?
If you’re practicing catching bullets in your teeth, it’s probably not a good idea to do it with a shotgun.
If you’re ever in a rocket and passing by a star, and it suddenly explodes into a supernova, well I don't know what to tell you.
Valentines has come and gone yet again. I see all the couples walking by holding hands. In every store window are pink and red hearts, romantic gift ideas, cute little stuffed animals. Everyone’s walking around smiling. Joy abounds. Love is in the air. I want to shoot them.
It’s time for my post-Valentines tradition. Go to a store that has those heart shaped boxes of candy on for 75% off. Buy about a dozen. Don’t leave my house for the next three days, due to depression and newfound inability to support my own weight. Then they’ll carry me out of the house on a stretcher, with a foul stench from me not showering or being able to get out of bed when nature calls. Then they’ll bring me in to the hospital for my annual stomach pump and sponge bath, Doctor Beoran will give me a lollipop for being so good during the examination, and I’ll have successfully evaded post-Valentines depression yet again. Life is good.
Sometimes I wish I had multiple personalities. That way I wouldn't have to play Solitaire all the time.
Viva les archives.