I spent $540 on a new gas pump for my car on Friday. I have no idea what a gas pump does or why I need it.
My mechanic could sell me anything and I’d have to buy it as long as I need transportation.
“Yea, the scuttlebucket’s busted.”
“The scuttlebucket?”
“Yea, you can’t drive without that thing. That’s what buckets your scuttle.”
“How much does it cost to fix?”
“Well I’m gonna have to brutally rape you in front of your friends and peers.”
“Hmm… I don’t really have that kind of time or energy.”
“Well you can’t drive the car without the scuttlebucket.”
“Alright, I guess I’ll come by Tuesday as long as you can promise me a warranty that I won’t need to get raped for another five months.”
“Four months.”
“This never used to happen when I had a Honda.”
I don't know if I could pull that off. Even if I was told to make up things at my job for people to buy I wouldn't have the confidence to back it up.
“Hi, and welcome to K-mart. I’m sorry sir, but you can’t enter unless you have a K-mart titanium body suit.”
“Get bent Jew face!”
“Good point. Enjoy your shopping time.”
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Tears About Heaven
I’m afraid heaven’s going to be like a high school reunion. I get to the clouds and people I never wanted to see again say, “Oh, it’s been so long. What’d you end up doing with your life?”
“Um, I was a temp for awhile and then I thought it’d be a good idea to try cliff diving.”
“That’s it? Who let you in here?”
But I feel better when I see the quarterback who arrived in a totaled Porsche and a heap of Coors Light empties and the Goth kids who came up early with razors and a bathtub.
Then the school shooter arrives and the bullies are like, “Hey needle dick, remember how much we beat you up in gym class? That’s nothing compared to what we’re gonna do to you now we have bullets in our faces. You know how hard it is to get laid up here with a bullet in your face?”
The worst would be to die in an office shooting cause then you have to go to heaven with everyone from work.
“Seriously, guys we’re not in the office anymore. Can’t we find something else to talk about besides the Monthly Totals? I hope I’m getting paid overtime for this.”
Your boss is waiting. “You’re late! Did you get the memo? We’re meeting at 4pm on cloud nine.”
“Wait… is this hell?”
“Hell? How could it be hell? Every day is casual Friday up here.”
Then I go and stare at the cute girl from the cubicle next to me, while God’s like, “this is heaven. You can have anyone you want. That guy bombed a temple and he’s sleeping with 72 virgins.”
And I'm like, "Look, I know I never talked to her while I was alive. This is my chance to start over."
Hell seems a bit far-fetched though. No place can be that hot all the time. The pyrotechnics and state of the art heaters alone would cost a fortune. Plus the landlord sounds like a dick.
“Um, I was a temp for awhile and then I thought it’d be a good idea to try cliff diving.”
“That’s it? Who let you in here?”
But I feel better when I see the quarterback who arrived in a totaled Porsche and a heap of Coors Light empties and the Goth kids who came up early with razors and a bathtub.
Then the school shooter arrives and the bullies are like, “Hey needle dick, remember how much we beat you up in gym class? That’s nothing compared to what we’re gonna do to you now we have bullets in our faces. You know how hard it is to get laid up here with a bullet in your face?”
The worst would be to die in an office shooting cause then you have to go to heaven with everyone from work.
“Seriously, guys we’re not in the office anymore. Can’t we find something else to talk about besides the Monthly Totals? I hope I’m getting paid overtime for this.”
Your boss is waiting. “You’re late! Did you get the memo? We’re meeting at 4pm on cloud nine.”
“Wait… is this hell?”
“Hell? How could it be hell? Every day is casual Friday up here.”
Then I go and stare at the cute girl from the cubicle next to me, while God’s like, “this is heaven. You can have anyone you want. That guy bombed a temple and he’s sleeping with 72 virgins.”
And I'm like, "Look, I know I never talked to her while I was alive. This is my chance to start over."
Hell seems a bit far-fetched though. No place can be that hot all the time. The pyrotechnics and state of the art heaters alone would cost a fortune. Plus the landlord sounds like a dick.
Saturday, February 7, 2009
Naps: Man's Best Friend
My friends often ask, “How come you’re tired all the time? How can you take so many naps?”
Because it’s easier to say I’m tired than depressed.
If you’re tired people think, “What a bum.”
But if you say you’re depressed people think, “how do I get out of this conversation without it being awkward?”
I picked the wrong species to be.
Every animal I see at the zoo is in the middle of a nap. People still go to the zoo.
Bears get to sleep all winter and no one’s like “I don’t care if it has seasonal depression. What a lazy piece of shit.” Instead, People are scared of bears. I’d love to take a nap, wake up, and have people scared of me. “Dan, sorry to disturb your hibernation. It’s just that you owe for four months of rent and electric bills, but you know what, I’ll cover it. Just don’t maul me.”
The caterpillar slugs around, puts up with that shit, takes a nap, and wakes up as a butterfly, a way better creature. It went to sleep as Slingblade and woke up as Batman. It’s like She’s All That except instead of a new wardrobe you just take a nap in a tiny bedroom. Naps aren’t bad. We’re just forgetting a cocoon.
I wish I could wake up with the ability to fly.
“Hey did you hear about Hirshon?”
“Hirshon-Nap Hirshon?”
“Yea, things are looking up for him. He’s got wings now.”
“How’d he get those?”
“Took a power nap.”
“Man, that guy was right all along about naps.”
“Yea, and he has eyes that shoot lasers.”
“How come?”
“Because he never gets laid.”
“What a hero.”
Don’t be down on naps. They’re not a sign of laziness. They’re a chance to fl… (Blog not finished due to nap).
Because it’s easier to say I’m tired than depressed.
If you’re tired people think, “What a bum.”
But if you say you’re depressed people think, “how do I get out of this conversation without it being awkward?”
I picked the wrong species to be.
Every animal I see at the zoo is in the middle of a nap. People still go to the zoo.
Bears get to sleep all winter and no one’s like “I don’t care if it has seasonal depression. What a lazy piece of shit.” Instead, People are scared of bears. I’d love to take a nap, wake up, and have people scared of me. “Dan, sorry to disturb your hibernation. It’s just that you owe for four months of rent and electric bills, but you know what, I’ll cover it. Just don’t maul me.”
The caterpillar slugs around, puts up with that shit, takes a nap, and wakes up as a butterfly, a way better creature. It went to sleep as Slingblade and woke up as Batman. It’s like She’s All That except instead of a new wardrobe you just take a nap in a tiny bedroom. Naps aren’t bad. We’re just forgetting a cocoon.
I wish I could wake up with the ability to fly.
“Hey did you hear about Hirshon?”
“Hirshon-Nap Hirshon?”
“Yea, things are looking up for him. He’s got wings now.”
“How’d he get those?”
“Took a power nap.”
“Man, that guy was right all along about naps.”
“Yea, and he has eyes that shoot lasers.”
“How come?”
“Because he never gets laid.”
“What a hero.”
Don’t be down on naps. They’re not a sign of laziness. They’re a chance to fl… (Blog not finished due to nap).
Monday, February 2, 2009
I Won 8 Olympic Gold Medals But Then I Got High
Michael Phelps is catching flack for smoking pot.
He's been smoking pot for awhile, but everyone thought he had chlorine in his eyes.
“Is he on acid or just practicing the back stroke midair?”
“Is he on crack or does he always wear a speedo?”
The guy won 8 Olympic gold medals. What else do we want from him?
People say he shouldn't have done it because he's a role model and that sends the wrong message. That doesn’t send the wrong message. That should be the message: win 8 gold medals, make $40 million from endorsements, appear on Saturday Night Live and the Wheaties box… Then relax however you want. You’ve earned it.
If he was caught smoking pot five seconds before he won the 8 Olympic races that might send a deceiving message to aspiring Olympic swimmers that pot makes you swim faster, but if you fall for that old gag then you deserve to lose in the Olympics.
It'd be a worse message if he was caught on camera not having fun. "Look kids, you can win 8 olympic gold medals and still be miserable. Just give up."
The only message that would’ve been better would be if he’d smoked from a water bong? “Swimmers, don’t smoke pot. But if you do, at least stay in the water.”
He's been smoking pot for awhile, but everyone thought he had chlorine in his eyes.
“Is he on acid or just practicing the back stroke midair?”
“Is he on crack or does he always wear a speedo?”
The guy won 8 Olympic gold medals. What else do we want from him?
People say he shouldn't have done it because he's a role model and that sends the wrong message. That doesn’t send the wrong message. That should be the message: win 8 gold medals, make $40 million from endorsements, appear on Saturday Night Live and the Wheaties box… Then relax however you want. You’ve earned it.
If he was caught smoking pot five seconds before he won the 8 Olympic races that might send a deceiving message to aspiring Olympic swimmers that pot makes you swim faster, but if you fall for that old gag then you deserve to lose in the Olympics.
It'd be a worse message if he was caught on camera not having fun. "Look kids, you can win 8 olympic gold medals and still be miserable. Just give up."
The only message that would’ve been better would be if he’d smoked from a water bong? “Swimmers, don’t smoke pot. But if you do, at least stay in the water.”
Sunday, February 1, 2009
If you see something, try porn.
The New York City subway has a policy to stop crime and terrorism: "If you see something, say something."
The problem is I'm always taking naps on the subway so all I see is dreams. I report them though. I'm a samaritan like that.
I slap the emergency button, stop the subway, jump off, grab a security guard and say, “I just got laid” because even in my dreams that’s a pretty big deal.
I think about sex too much.
One reason I have trouble conversing with women is because I’m thinking about sex the whole time.
“What can I say to lead this to sex?”
Usually I choose the wrong thing to say.
Thus why I should work in the porn industry. Besides the fact I’ve watched so much porn I can write and direct it at this point, working in porn would be good for other aspects of my life:
1.) I wouldn’t think about sex as much at night because I wouldn’t want to take my job home with me after working on it 9-5 every day.
2.) My weekends would be freed up since I wouldn’t waste so much time trying to get laid.
3.) And most importantly I could focus on the more important things in life, like macramé and my attempt to get my name in the Guinness Book of World Records (most bagels eaten in a week).
So porn, here I come…on your face.
The problem is I'm always taking naps on the subway so all I see is dreams. I report them though. I'm a samaritan like that.
I slap the emergency button, stop the subway, jump off, grab a security guard and say, “I just got laid” because even in my dreams that’s a pretty big deal.
I think about sex too much.
One reason I have trouble conversing with women is because I’m thinking about sex the whole time.
“What can I say to lead this to sex?”
Usually I choose the wrong thing to say.
Thus why I should work in the porn industry. Besides the fact I’ve watched so much porn I can write and direct it at this point, working in porn would be good for other aspects of my life:
1.) I wouldn’t think about sex as much at night because I wouldn’t want to take my job home with me after working on it 9-5 every day.
2.) My weekends would be freed up since I wouldn’t waste so much time trying to get laid.
3.) And most importantly I could focus on the more important things in life, like macramé and my attempt to get my name in the Guinness Book of World Records (most bagels eaten in a week).
So porn, here I come…on your face.
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