It's Like A (Poorly Managed) Zoo In Here!

* These Zebras are totally chilled out.

Let's talk about the saying, "It's like a zoo in here!"  I don't know about that saying.  Because I've been to a few zoos in my day, and most of them that I've been to have been pretty mellow.  A Best Buy on the Friday after Thanksgiving, "Black Friday" (which I find somehow racist) is nothing like any of the zoos that I've been to.  If, however, there is a zoo somewhere in the world that is so out of control that it resembles a retail electronics chain selling HD plasma TV's for 50% off, maybe it's time to rethink the management structure at that zoo.  Because it's clearly being pretty poorly managed.

Oh Genny, you're dumb.

A buddy of mine was dating this girl a while ago who was stupid as shit. I say “was” because they don’t date any more, but I’m certain wherever she is today, she’s still a moron. I know what you may be thinking, “that’s not a nice thing to say about her”. But don’t worry, it’s ok to call her stupid, because she was a fucking bitch! For this story and the sake of her anonymity I’ll refer to her as Genny so as not to out her as a dumb-ass.

One day I was out with my buddy and Genny and a couple other female friends of ours and Genny started going on and on about her new phone to the other girls, about how much she loved it and how “cool” it was and how it was so much fun to use. It’s somewhat hard to explain the severity of how annoying it was in the written word, but imagine the biggest idiot you can, talking pretty much as loud as humanly possibly in a stereotypical Valley Girl voice. Genny’s going on and on like,

“Oh my God, I LOVE my new phone, it’s so cool and fun and I love texting with the touch screen keyboard! I can text like, ten times faster than I could with my old phone!” (Which made me feel bad for the people she was texting because it meant that she was able to annoy the shit out of them ten times faster than before.) So as we walked, Genny continued to go on and on about how she capital L.O.V.E.D. her new phone!

I decided that I would take my aggression our indirectly on Genny and see just how stupid she actually was in the meantime. A few days later when I was over at the same friend’s house, Genny came by. When she left the room to use the bathroom (most likely to take a giant dump) I grabbed Genny’s phone and added my phone number as one of her contacts. But instead of my name, I put in “Your New Phone” as the contact name. When Genny returned from the bathroom, I excused myself, pretending I had to make a phone call, and went to the next room positioning myself where I still had a view of Genny’s. From here, I texted her new phone.

“Dear Genny, I fucking hate you!” Which, on her phone’s screen read, “Dear Genny, I fucking hate you!” From: Your New Phone.

A few seconds later Genny saw the text. It took a few seconds to sink in that perhaps her phone wasn’t quite as fond of her as she was of it, and she began to cry. And I laughed and laughed and laughed.

It's "Garbage Man"...Deal With It!

I don’t really get the term “trash collector”. I guess it’s an attempt to class up the term “garbage man” kind of the same way we often now refer to a “janitor” as a “custodian”. I guess because we don’t want to hurt people’s feelings? But guess what? A trash collector IS a garbage man. It’s not mean, it’s just more accurate. He’s a man who picks up garbage. Calling him a “collector” is just confusing and misleading. A collection is something to be coveted. A bill collector collects bills, or more accurately the money which is owed to pay bills. That’s something valuable. A stamp collector is interested in collecting stamps for their potential value and more often their historical significance, something of intrinsic value to them. But a “trash collector”? What is this guy doing, taking all the garbage home with him and organizing it with the other garbage?

“Ok, the diapers go here by the used coffee filters, and the dirty underwear goes over there next to the banana peels! Good now everything’s in order! What a great collection!”

I can’t imagine this monologue actually taking place. And if it does, I’m certain we’ve got a seriously mentally ill person on our hands and maybe we shouldn’t be trusting them with our garbage in the first place.

In Hindsight, Not Such a Great Idea...

*This might have helped

About 2 years ago I wrote a whimsical “How-To” book called Cooking Pasta in the Nude. About a week later I wrote a second book, First Aid for Scalded Genitals. It was more instructional and less light hearted than the first book. It was written 100% based on experience.

Wait...What?

I love intentionally confusing people.  I don't really know why.  I guess it's because the reaction is usually pretty priceless. For the most part a person goes through their whole day with a relative sense of normalcy. So when something odd happens, it often shakes up their day in a way that makes it somewhat memorable. This is my public service to the general population. Feel free to use this.

This scenario works best with someone you don’t know at a location where you’re not committed to staying for an extended period of time. Try a public bus stop for example. A lot of people read newspapers at bus stops, not because they’re interested in the news, but because they absolutely despise interaction with other human beings, and said human beings are somewhat reluctant to disturb a stranger who is busy. But not you! Go up to this person reading their newspaper and ask them what the article they are reading is about. Unless this person is a fucking asshole, they should at least be courteous enough to give you a one sentence synopsis. After this information is exchanged, this is where you confuse them with your puzzling response (to follow).

This response also works in an office environment, most successfully at a general gathering venue like the clichéd water cooler, or some other location where people tend to congregate for short periods of time and there is plenty of room for escape without explanation (this works in any office environment but is most effective in a large office setting where you don’t know everyone on a personal level). In this scenario, you walk into a conversation already in progress. As most conversations in office water cooler environments are usually about current events, you should be set up nicely. Politely interrupt and ask the alpha of the group what topic they are discussing. When you’re informed, this is where you say the sure to be confusing line, and walk away. In both of these different scenarios, the line is certain to perplex the targets. It might not register right away, but eventually they will more than likely be scratching their heads. This final line of your conversation, before inexplicably turning and calmly walking away is… “Oh yeah, I saw that on the radio the other day”.

When you don't need a job, but could enjoy a good laugh.

There area a lot of ways to appear crazy. Here’s one of those ways: Go in for a job interview. (it’s important to make sure this is a job that you don’t want, because if you carry out this little exercise, you’re definitely not going to get it). At the point in the interview where it reaches a relatively casual atmosphere, the interviewer may ask you something along the lines of, “what do you enjoy doing in your spare time?” At this cue, you should respond, “I really enjoy reading Russian poetry”, a relatively obscure and intellectual response, to which the interviewer may more than likely respond, “Really? What makes you enjoy Russian poetry?” to which you respond, “Who said I like Russian poetry?” At this point, you sit there looking at them with a sense of confusion, insinuating that they’re crazy. This chapter of the scenario may warranty one of two responses. First, security may be called and you will be escorted out. Second, you may actually be successful in convincing the interviewer that they’re out of their mind. At this point, you can get up and walk out, disgusted that this person who is clearly crazy has wasted a good portion of your afternoon.

Get over here Sergeant Pickles!!!

I think it’s funny to see a really old, really little lady, walking a very small, very misbehaving dog. Because the dog is always trying to go somewhere that it’s not allowed, while the lady is always telling it not to and yelling at it like it’s a person. And while all this is happening, you know that the lady is completely in a world of her own, a world where her dog understands her but just chooses not to. This is what is making her so mad, not so much the misbehavior, but the blatant disobedience. In the story I make up in my mind, the dog’s name is always something fancy, like Mr. Sprinkles or Sergeant Pickles. This just helps make the situation even more amusing.

Here's a Story To Tell...You're Welcome!

If you’re a guy and you want to give another guy a story to tell their friends and families at parties and other social events for the rest of their lives, do this. Get on a major highway and stop at a rest stop. Go into a stall, sit down and wait. Keep in mind this must be done during the summertime. Before too long, another dude will come and sit in the stall right next to you. (Don’t choose an end stall, this cuts your chances of neighborhood in half.) When the gentleman sits, there is a 50% chance he will be wearing flip flops, sandals, or some form of open-toed footwear. Now’s your chance to make a lasting impression on his life. Lick your fingers and gently rub his toes. For added creepy effect, in your most seductive voice whisper loud enough for him to hear, “Nice”.  You'll want to make sure your stall door is locked.  There's a pretty good chance that the guy will try to kick your ass...

Want To See My Studio?

I was at a party recently and saw this really hot girl. We started chatting and I mentioned that I lived nearby in a studio apartment. She was like, “Oh my God, a studio?! Are you like, a musician or something?” I responded, “You’re not all that intelligent. I like you. Yes, I’m a musician, let’s get out of here.”

Delivery!

Male porn stars are really just like boner delivery men. For the most part, they walk into a room and are like, “did anyone order a boner? Oh you did? Well here it is!”

I Respect Your Work...Now Take Off Your Pants

I have a lot of respect for actors in the pornography industry because they don’t seem to have egos like traditional actors. I mean, Tom Cruise is a legitimate movie star, but every actor who plays a role in a movie isn’t considered a “star”. In the traditional movie business, there are tiers of stardom, "Lists", "A-List" "B-List" and so on; a hierarchy if you will.  But in adult film, they’re all pornSTARS, all equals, all just there to F the S out of each other. Now how can you possibly have an ego when you’re getting F’d in the A all day?

Why Does This Still Taste Like This?

People have walked on the moon.  Some people don't think that's true.  But let's face it.  Even if no one has ever walked on the moon, someone somewhere is smart enough to have been able to trick the majority of the world's population that someone has.  The MOON! That’s really far away. My brain can’t even fathom the level of intelligence one must have in order to figure out how to build a ship that can shoot up into the sky and drop a dude off on the moon. So that means that there are infinitely smart people on our earth. So with all that intelligence, you’re telling me we can’t figure out a way to make broccoli taste like a cheeseburger?  Really?!  Come on!

I Wish I Was Elsewhere

*What are you smiling about Whitney?  You made it worse!

When you're in a gym locker room and a 60 year old man walks in and sets up shop right next to you it's a little weird. When he proceeds to take off all of his clothes, it becomes even less appealing. But when he's standing there totally naked changing into his bathing suit and Whitney Houston's "I will always love you" comes on over the speakers, that's when it get's REALLY awkward!  Many of my posts are "What If's" and straight up lies.  This actually happened to me today.

Horse Lover

*THE TRUTH

Sometimes when I'm in the shower, I think of something I need to do.  So when I get out, sometimes I try to do that thing right away before I put my clothes on.  The only problem with this process is that there is a chance that in those moments careless unexpected tragedy could strike and I could die.  Then there would be questions.  Not so much questions of how I died or why, but why was I naked?  More than likely there would be some coincidental evidence of an animal's presence in my apartment, possibly some hair.  Don't worry how it got there. Then the media would report in a non-accusational manner that I may in some way have been involved in an underground bestiality ring when in reality the evening before I had had a romantic evening with a young lady, and hired a violinist to serenade us while we dined.  During the evening, the musician's passionate playing caused his bow to shred, leaving behind some horse hairs from said bow.  Then, with my family unable to prove the media incorrect, and no one to dispel the lies of my activities, my family, not wanting to lie, but in an attempt to maintain some dignity would have engraved on my tombstone:  "Our Beloved Son.  Apparently he loved animals".

Can You Hold This For Me?

I'm going to invent underwear with pockets.  Because I don't always wear pants, but I still need a place to put my stuff.

I Hope She Doesn't Crush Him!

There's nothing I like more than seeing a little scrawny redneck guy with a wicked fat redneck lady.  The guy is normally wearing old torn jeans and a dirty wife beater, although I question his ability to beat a woman with a 100 lb. weight advantage.  These sightings are most common at state fairs.  If and when you're treated to the privelage of such an event, take it all in because it's a special moment.  It's hilarious.  But sometimes, my mind wanders to the dark side and I imagine them having sex.  Then I throw up.  Then it's not quite as funny, but still pretty funny.

People Watching

One of my favorite pastimes is people watching. It’s so entertaining to sit on a bench on a crowded street or in a busy park and watch all different kinds of people from different backgrounds in their natural environment, when they aren’t aware they’re being watched and have released their inhibitions. Some people, however, quickly become aware of your presence and aren’t thrilled. That’s why, whenever I do some people watching, I bring a newspaper along. That way, when I’m staring at some guy on the street with a leather vest, cut-off jean shorts and a pony tail, and laughing and he says angrily, “what the fuck are you looking at?!” I can respond, “I’m just reading this newspaper, Garfield’s at it again! He sure does love lasagna”, and then run away.

Clean Out Your Desk!!!

If I’m ever fired in a hostile manner I hope to God that my boss yells at me, “Clean out your desk!” I will gladly clean out my desk. But I’m going to crap in the drawer.

Can I Have That Baby?

I want a baby by the time I’m 35. I’m not going to rush into a relationship with a girl though.  That's irresponsible.  So if I’m 35 and haven’t yet met “Miss Right”, hide your babies, because I’m going to steal one!

The Plan

I have a plan.  It goes like this. 

I want to go into a Walmart and buy a $50 gift card. I’ll most likely pay for it with travelers checks because I think travelers checks are stupid. Then I want to go out to my car and apply a fake, but very realistic looking mustache and go back in to the store with my recently purchased gift card and 40 nickels in my pocket. Then I want to go back to the same cashier that I purchased the gift card from just moments earlier and purchase a $52 gift card using my $50 gift card and my nickels. Then, as a final touch, I will return to my car, take off my fake mustache and eat an extremely messy and sticky brownie. Then I will return to the store, get a basket and fill it with approximately $52 worth of toothpaste, go to the same cashier and calmly pay for the toothpaste with my $52 gift card. This plan will be known as “Operation Confuse the Shit Out of the Walmart Cashier”.

I Need a New Car

If you drop your car keys in a porta-potty, just go ahead and plan on never driving that vehicle ever again.

That's Where I Draw the Line

I saw an American Heart Association billboard recently that said, “Please Give Generously”. The American Heart Association should be more clear in their advertising. Because I have no problem donating a few dollars to charity, but I’m not going to give you my heart. And I have a feeling that’s what they were getting at!

TODAY's News...

I think it’s condescending when you bring up a topic to someone and they say “that’s yesterday’s news!” Oh really? Because I just heard it, so I guess for me it’s today’s news, asshole!

Tell Her About It

If you see someone with something on their face, like a piece of food, or something stuck to their shoe, like an entire roll of toilet paper, it’s always awkward to tell them, especially if you don’t know them that well. But if you don’t say anything to them, you’re a dick. Because who knows when the next time they’ll look in the mirror?

A Terrible Way To Die

You know what’s absolutely terrifying? Being in a highway rest stop bathroom at 2AM, sitting down to take a shit, and hearing the sound of the door open and someone else walk in. I have never felt more rape prone in my life than at that moment.

Where Do I Look?

Sometimes you get into awkward social situations where you’re waiting for something with a stranger like in line at a bank or in an elevator. In these cases, you have to look somewhere, but more often than not there is nothing interesting to look at. Some people will try to read a brochure or appear to be interested in something on the floor or the ceiling in an attempt to seem occupied. Me? I just close my eyes.

That's Just Poor Marketing

Oldsmobile went defunct in 2004.  I can't believe they made it that long.  In 1897 when the company was founded, wasn't there at least one guy who noticed that the name OLDsmobile could be a potential marking hurdle down the road?  I mean who wants to buy a brand new car that has the word OLD right in the title of the make.  Doesn't inspire much confidence for the consumer.  I understand that the founder's last name was Olds, Ransom E. Olds, a name which leaves a lot of questions to be answered to be certain...Ransom?  But Oldsmobile?  I understand you want to have your name affliated with the company but there has to be a line drawn somewhere.  Out of business in 2004.  A pretty good run of over 100 years.  But I wonder if the Olds family ever lays in bed at night and thinks, "what if?"  What if our forefather just happened to be named Ransom E. Brandnew?  Would the company still be in business?  I guess we'll never know.

This Tastes Embarrassing

Have you ever been to a restaurant and seen something on the menu that looked delicious, but didn't order it because the name was so stupid that you didn't want to say it out loud?  I mean, I love appetizers as much as the next guy.  But I'm not going to say "Super Duper Sampler"

Hey, That's Mine!

I would love, absolutely LOVE it if someone tried to steal my identity.  I wake up every morning and pray to God that someone steals my identity.  People who steal identities should make sure to do some research on their prey.  Because if someone stole my identity right now, and spent two days doing it at let's say, ten hours a day, that would be twenty man hours.  Well let me tell you something Mr. Identity Thief.  If you venture out into those waters, you stand to make about $9 an hour.  I hope you're happy, because you just committed a crime to make the equivalent of a job that you could have found on Craiglist under "shitty jobs".  Fuck you, identity stealer! 

Serial Researcher

I don't like it when people blow things out of proportion.  I also don't like it when people over-react, which is just like blowing something out of proportion.  Like for about six months, I was doing some research on this girl I was interested in who I didn't know, but had seen at a bar and thought was cute.  So I followed her home at about 2AM one night to do some research on where she lived.  Then about three days a week for the next month or so I would research her from the bushes outside her house with binoculars, trying to research what she did with her spare time and researching what she liked to watch on TV.  About six weeks later I saw her again at the bar I originally saw her at and worked up the courage to talk to her, but guess what, I wasn't even nervous.  Because I had plenty to talk to her about because of all the valuable research I had done.  Time well spent.  So after talking to her for about ten minutes, she was like, "get the hell away from me you creepster", which was a total surprise to me considering I felt like I had prepared myself so well with all of my research.  So refusing to give up on her, because I knew love isn't easy and you can't hurry it, or so I'm told by Diana Ross, I decided to follow her around and show up to as many places as I could that she was at.  So one day I was doing some research on her at her job and all her co-workers were like, who's that guys in the corner with the clipboard and no pants, and I was like "I'm a researcher!  Don't talk about me like I'm not here.  Just because I'm hiding behind this bush doesn't mean I can't hear you!"  Jesus!  People are so insensitive.  They just don't understand research or have any respect for science.  Then a few months after I had met her I was stopped by a cop around dusk when I was waiting outside her apartment for her to get home so I could put some finishing touches on my research.  The cop told me that there was some sort of "restraint" on my research and that I had to stay 500 feet away from her when doing my research or I'd be arrested.  Unbelievable!  A guy can't even do a little research without getting hastled by the 5-0.  Bullshit.  Anyway, long story short, I finished my research.  Jail isn't as bad as they say it is, and it's a quiet place to write.

Secret-ary

I never really realized that in the word "secretary" is the word "secret".  Most likely because they are pronounced differently.  But in my case, it's appropriate.  Because if and when I get a job where I have a secretary, I'm not going to make her do work.  No filing, answering phones, emailing.  My secretary's job is going to be simple...I'm going to tell her all my secrets!  Method of secret transfer?  Email?  Fax? Phone call? Yelling?  Of course not!  Who the hell yells a secret?!?!  The only appropriate way to tell a secret...whisper.

That's Too Far

For generations the question has been asked in countless settings, "how far is too far?"  Well allow me to let you in on the answer to that question in at least one of the many settings.  If you're a man in a public restroom and you're approaching a urinal, I don't care how badly you have to piss, if you take your penis out of your pants as you're walking towards the urinal so far away that I'm able to see said penis...that's too far!

Tell Me About It

When I buy something, I like to tell people.  That way they know I'm fucking rich!  But being rich isn't good enough.  So when I tell them about it, I like to use the word "purchase".  That way they know that I'm smart too.  The exchange usually goes something like this:

ME:  "Hey loser, guess what, I just purchased a 1998 Pontiac Bonneville!"

SOME GUY: "Holy shit, that rich guy sure is smart!"

You're Not So Smart!

YOU keep left on High Street!!!

I started using a GPS on road trips.  Unfortunately this often leads me to get lost because I hate being told what to do. 

Outstanding!!!

I went to the bank the other day to close my account.  The teller said to me, "we can't close your account, you have one outstanding check".  I couldn't believe it.  I went home, pretty disappointed.  I know my other checks have potential, and if they just applied themselves a little, they could be outstanding too.

That's Just Gay.

*This particular gem would be more accurate if an "M" was substituted in for the "T"

Here is a list of some seriously gay things in descending order of gayness:

1) Having vanity license plates
2) Hardcore Dude on Dude action

I Want To Return Something...It's In My Stomach...But I Have The Receipt!

I just don't understand keeping a receipt unless it's for a large purchase or something that you're pretty sure you're going to have to return.  The other day I went to Subway with my dad for lunch.  He paid.  He got his receipt and looked at it because that's what you do when you don't trust anyone working behind a counter.  After we were finished eating our sandwiches he picked up the receipt which was sitting on the table and, to my surprise, put it in his wallet!  We already ate the sandwiches!  What the hell are you going to do with the receipt?!

That's Not Humorous

There's a point in every man's life where he becomes so old that he begins to think that things are funny when they are not.  Based on my experiences that age is whatever age my dad is. 

Directions: Purchase, Take Home, Throw Away.

When you think about it, Liquid Plumber is a pretty unique product.  It's really the only product that you buy at the store and throw away without really using it first.  Food is useful because you eat it.  Toilet paper and tissues are usually thrown out relatively shortly after purchasing but there is a stop at the ass and nose respectively prior to it's disposal.  But Liquid Plumber Drain Cleaner is just trash in a bottle when you think about it.  You buy it at the store, take it home, and dump it directly down the drain.  What a waste!

"I Want a Snack"

Kids are great.  Not for the traditional reasons you hear most people talking about, they're cute, they're innocent, they lack inhibition.  No.  Kids are great because they need you.  They make you feel important.  That's right.  An adult can get mad at you, I mean furious, and say something like, "That's it, that's the last straw, I'm never talking to you again, ever!" and mean it.  An adult could say that to you and leave and walk out of your life forever.  Forever!  You could never see that person again.  But a child could get absolutely furious.  They could throw a fall-down fit, cry and scream to no end and declare that they will never talk to you again, ever!  But a child needs you.  That's the great part about kids.  A kid will get furious with you and say something like, "NO!  Don't talk to me I'm mad.  I'm never talking to you again!" and run and hide away in the corner.  But inevitably at some point, maybe ten minutes, maybe an hour later, they'll come to you with dried tears on their face and say..."Can I have a snack?"  YES!  You've won the battle.  Why?  Because kids may get mad at you, but they're small and can't reach things up high.  They need you!

And Come Alone!

When there's a movie with a kidnapping or some sort of hostage situation, and there is a meeting or as they call it in the business, a "drop", the bad guy almost always says, "...and come alone, no cops!"  When you're watching a movie and this line comes up, and it will, be prepared for the fact that there most certainly will be cops. 

Use Your Library Voice

If you're ever wondering if you're a nerd, just ask yourself, "have I been in the library lately at noon on a weekday?"  If you're still not sure, go ahead and ask yourself, "have I been the only person in a library at noon on a weekday except for an all-woman's book club with a mean age of roughly 97 years?"  Well at this point you should realize that you are in fact a nerd.  This was a recent scenario which I was the star of.  Therefore, I am a nerd.  But I don't regret it.  You know why?  Because today I was in a small public library, all alone, just me and the librarian, when suddenly one after another, old women began to come in and congregate in an area where they proceded to hold their book club meeting.  Sounds innocent enough right?  "Why Tim", you may then ask "was this such a great day?"  Because my friend, at one point during the discussion which I was only vaguely listening to, a little white haired lady said the word, "Penis".  You can probably imagine my reaction.  It was kind of similar to the reaction you would have if you were looking straight ahead and someone blew an airhorn ten feet to your right.  The best part about the "penis" comment, whatever context it was in, was that none of the other ancient ladies seemed to think it the least bit odd... or humorous for that matter!  They just went right on doing what they were doing.  But let me set the record straight once and for all.  If you don't think that an old white haired lady saying "penis" in a library is hilarious, with all do respect, you are WRONG!

I'd Rather Be Golfing

I saw a guy the other day driving a car with a bumper sticker that said "I'd Rather Be Golfing".  That's cool.  I guess that guy really likes to golf.  So much so that he bought a bumper sticker to pledge his allegiance.  This guy probably likes golfing a lot but is realistic, in his mind, about the fact that he has to participate in the general activities of socety like work and eating and sleep and possibly raising a family.  He more than likely knows that he can't golf all the time.  But that got me thinking, what if someone had that bumper sticker and was dead serious about it.  Like every time he was doing anything but golfing he was fucking PISSED!  Imagine how crazy it would be if every moment of this guy's life that he wasn't golfing, he was absolutely inconsolably furious. 

"Hey John, guess what, I got front row tickets to Pearl Jam tonight for free!  You in?"

"Fuck that, I'm going golfing."

"But it'll be dark outside."

"Shut your face!"
__________________________

"Hey buddy, I heard you and Beth had a baby, congratulations, how's Fatherhood treating you so far?"

"It fucking sucks!  I'm inside changing diapers and feeding that little bastard when I could be working on my short game!"

Nice to meet you. Please don't kill me.

College is awkward.  I think the most awkward part is that fact that when you meet your freshman roommate for the first time, you know you're going to sleep ten feet away from that person that night.  So I guess with all it's benefits, academic and otherwise, college starts off with a lesson in trust.  Because when you meet this total stranger on day one, and fall asleep later that night, it could be weird.  After all, you're sleeping just feet away from a person of the same sex whom you've just met.  But who in the world is this person?  He could be anyone.  So maybe just to cover all your bases, before you go to bed, you should make sure that they're not a killer.

You:  Alright man, good night.

Potential Murderer:  Goodnight.

You:  I'll see you in the morning.

Potential Murderer:  Sure.

You:  I will see you in the morning right.  I mean, I'm going to wake up?

Potential Murderer: What?

You:  I mean you're not going to kill me in my sleep or anything are you?

Potential Murderer:  No. 

You:  OK.  Goodnight then.  Remember, don't kill me OK?

"HEY LOOK AT ME!"

I like Tic Tacs.  I'm pro-fresh breath but can't we as a society figure out a way to make a mint that's a little quieter?  I mean seriously, for a 1 1/2 calorie breathmint they sure are loud as shit in your pocket!  Let's figure it out scientists.  I want to have fresh breath but could do without all the attention it draws.  I mean we went to the moon right, how hard can it be to make a quiet mint?

Maybe not everything...

I bet that the first person who said, "everything happens for a reason" had never bit their tongue.

Close Call

Everyone, and I mean EVERYone in the world has had a situation arise where they have thought, or perhaps even said aloud, "Oh, no, I think I'm going to shit my pants!"  In fact, society is broken down into two groups of people...

 1.  Those who, at some point in their lives will admit to having had at least a close call with shitting their pants. and

 2. Liars.

It's true.  At some point in everyone's life you find yourself in a predicament, typically after a large meal or indulging in too much coffee, when you realize that a shit is on the horizon and there is no comfort station in the vacinity.  When it happens to me, and I'm not insinuating that it happens all that often, it happens when I'm in the car.  The odd part about my experiences is that more often than not, it's not a matter of a lack of available restrooms at any given time, but moreso my stubborness and overconfidence when I am near a public restroom but not far from home to think, "I can hold it".  This misanalysis of the severity of the "craptuation" (this is a word I made up in which there is a situation {typically dire} where the primary focus is on having to crap) typically results in...
                                    
A. A lot of sweating
B. Talking to yourself in encouraging phrases like "come on you can hold it"  OR
C. Disbelieving phrases joined with expletives such as "I can't fucking believe I'm going to shit my pants!!!"
D. Some sort of awkward walk into your house or whatever island of relief you've found in order to end this nightmare.  In which case you sit on the toilet with your head in your hands for an extended period of time thanking religious figures you don't even typically believe in.

   The walk once you've gotten out of your car is a bittersweet moment.  In this process you always have mixed feelings.  At this point, you've made it to your hopeful destination where there is a vacant bathroom, few other human beings around and plenty of toilet paper.  The problem with the walk is that it is incredibly difficult to take long, confident strides when there is the risk that an overextension of one leg in an attempt at quickness may result in a dump in your pants.  That is the functional issue.  The embarrassing issue lies in the fact that there are always, always an unusally large number of people around in this scenario, or at least so it seems to your paranoid mind.  If your refuge happens to be a gas station there's always some sort of sale going on like FREE GAS IF YOU BUY A PACK OF GUM which encourages everyone within a 50 mile radius to not only be at that gas station, but come inside to witness your ass-clenching walk of shame.  If you happen to be home on the other hand, you can be sure that there will be less witnesses, but even so, there are still an unusual amount of people around.  For whatever reason, these emergencies always seem to happen when there's a mysterious parade on your street at 2pm on a Thursday and all your neighbors are sitting out in lawn chairs. 

When it's over you always realize that it was a situation that should have been avoided.  After all, you're an adult and even almost shitting your pants is pretty unacceptable in society.  So it's decided.  You, an adult, will most certainly never let such an embarrassing predicament spoil your day, and potentially your image, again.  But let's be realistic.  On some day, somewhere, while you're filling up your car with gas just a few miles from home at a station with a properly functioning toilet, you'll look at the gas station, look at your car, get in and close the door and think to yourself hopefully and confidently..."I can hold it".  Oh how we fail to learn from our past mistakes.  If and more likely, when, this scenario takes place, I wish you a heartfelt 'good luck' my friend.  You're probably going to need it!!

Really?

I saw a sign recently along a road within shouting distance to a neighborhood that read,  "Now Entering Town Parks Area- NO HUNTING".  Is this sign really necessary?  It doesn't speak all that much for the intelligence and common sense of the general population.  Let's say some hilbilly is walking around with his rifle in a populated area during the middle of the day, or God forbid, in the dark.  Are you telling me that if this sign wasn't there, this guy would think it was OK to just start hunting?  Like if the sign wasn't present, he'd look at his buddy and be like, "Hey Larry, you think it's OK for me to take a shot over there by that jungle gym?"  How embarrassing for the human race!

Meeting in the Middle

You have to shoot big to score.  That's a little life lesson.  That one is free... you're welcome.  But it's true.  To avoid being disappointed, as a general rule, you have to think big.  If I ask a girl out on a date, in a certain way it comes down to a psychological game.  You have to shoot high and then come to a compromise somewhere in the middle.  When I ask a girl out, I like to ask her out for an entire month at a time and then play it from there. 

ME:  "Hey, what are you doing every single night in June?"

GIRL:  "What?"

ME:  "OK, we'll just start with going out Friday night!"

GIRL:  "Who are you and why are you in the ladies room?"

"What the F**K?!?!

I read an article recently about organ transplantation because I'm very smart and I know how to read.  It got me thinking, what if someday organ harvesting and cloning becomes so simple and widely accepted that people are able to just have elective organ replacement surgery at their request.  This was a very interesting thought.  I began to think, "if I were able to have organ replacement surgery, what would I want to have replaced?"  I thought about my brain.  Maybe if I got a new brain I could potentially have all sorts of new skills and interesting facts that I would know.  Maybe I would be a brilliant doctor or know how to play the piano like a professional.  Wow, think of all the amazing new experiences that new brain would introduce into my life.  But I think if it really came down to it and I could have any elective transplant surgery I wanted, I would get a black penis.  Not for the probable increase in size, although that would be nice, but just to see the look on a girl's face the moment she saw my black penis contrasting with my pale white thighs!  "HOLY SHIT!!"  I would guess the reaction would be something of that nature.  Priceless.