a few quotes from The Song Between Her Legs (part 5 of 5)
(from The Song Between Her Legs)
What is it that makes a dog suddenly start licking its bunghole? Is it the sweet sound that calls the young sailors?
The home furniture place near me closed yesterday. I didn’t realize how serious they were about their liquidation sale until I heard that at the end of the day they killed all the employees.
To the rest of the soccer-crazy world… just remember that we’re using our, at best, fifth-best athletes. Only after our football, baseball, basketball and hockey teams are filled do we ever start looking for soccer players. If LeBron James played soccer all his life, he’d average three goals a game. Just saying.
I think the worst part of being a fish would be constantly swimming through other fish’s pee. You’d never get the taste out of your mouth.
Don’t try and tell me that a unique idea isn’t powerful. It’s a unique idea, not an unique idea. It breaks the rules of English for starters.
Another day wasted trying to teach the dog to yawn on command. It’s just not boring enough for her.
Some days are just frustrating. I’m shooting this porn where all the girls are flowers and all the men are bees and we spend the whole movie pollinating and the prop department just doesn’t understand why I need bigger wings.
How do men with beards do it in the summer? When things heat up their faces must be itchy as hell… said my ZZ Top-esque ballsack.
I think if I had only a week to live and wanted to leave the world a better place I would buy a rifle and kill all the lawyers who advertise on the Maury Povich Show. I would probably end up getting a national holiday.
I hate when speakers or comedians have a guitar up on stage with them, as if to say “Look at me. Look at how talented I am.” If I was good at golf should I interrupt my talk to drive balls into the crowd?
One-night stands are fun for the same reason you drive less carefully in a rented car.
It’s one thing to catch someone on the toilet. It’s another to catch them wiping.
I can’t help think that men would handle menstruation more efficiently. None of this three to four days of acting crabby. Perhaps a pop-out uterus that can be hosed off. Tell tale cramp. Get the scraper. Done!
There’s just something hot about watching a 21 year old girl ride a big wheel.
I once wrote about listening to a neighbor’s kid practice the banjo on his driveway every summer. It’s true, most days it’s my favorite part of the day … walking past the house and listening. Typically I take a walk each day not so much to clear my head as refill it. Like a hungry person pushing a shopping cart.
A public speaking tip. Start off by explaining to your audience that before you underwent hypnosis you were too terrified to even get up in front of a group of people. Then laugh and ask that for the next hour that nobody clap three times. If somebody does, begin to bark.
Writing Tip #8: If you are describing someone swimming and they are doing well don’t say they are doing swimmingly. Use a different word.
Some people prefer to get into a made bed at night. As long as the wet spots from the previous evening have dried I’m good.
The question isn’t so much “Do fish sleep?” as it is “Who gives a shit?”
I was watching a movie where they kept focusing on a girl’s ass and all I could think was “That’s where the poop comes out.”
I wonder how many women are afraid of getting caught poisoning their husbands so instead have put the 10 year ‘saturated fats’ plan into effect. “Bratwurst again? Thanks Honey!” “No problem Dear.” (small smile creeps across her face)
This morning I did an inadvertent magic trick. I took a crap and then wiped. As I reached back to flush I looked down and saw the turd sitting on top of the toilet paper. Tada!
I don’t know how people who live in huts do it. All the biting insects would drive me crazy. If I were a caveman I know the second thing that would have been invented. “Well, that’s fire out of the way. Now I can get working on mosquito netting.”
I just watched something so bad that I couldn’t turn away. Like a traffic accident… involving clowns.
Apparently there is just something about me that doesn’t allow me to eyeball somebody. All I can do is look at them.
Things that never need to be said at a Manhattan Bagel at 8 a.m. “Behold my penis and despair!”
I can’t imagine anything more horrible than to be sitting in bed watching TV and having the batteries of the remote die on you. You sit waving it like some demented conductor as it’s perched there in your hand seemingly mocking you. “Where is your god now?” You feel like the main character from A Clockwork Orange, strapped down with your eyeballs held open having to watch a program that you don’t want to watch because the only other alternative is to get out of bed and find new batteries. Subjected to a bit of the old ultastupid involving three cows looking for a wedding dress as their inbred family squabbles amongst themselves. You take off the back of the remote and wiggle the batteries, desperate for them to find enough juice to turn the TV off and end your torment. But that doesn’t work. It’s like a nightmare.
It’s gotten to where my morning fart is equal parts the crowing of a rooster, a bugle blowing reveille and a starter’s pistol.
If you tell the truth for a living you are a comedian. If you lie you are a politician. Sad.
It is now my fondest wish that karaoke be outlawed across the country. I would walk into bars and taverns across the land and apply the axe to each machine with the same zeal that the old abolitionists would have when destroying a barrel of beer.
I think I had the same reaction upon hearing the news of Robin William’s suicide as everyone else; “Why? Why?! Why couldn’t it have been Howie Mandel?”
While flipping through channels I came upon Jimmy Fallon interviewing Carson Daly. Thankfully it was muted but watching them exchange grins and grimaces it became obvious I had stumbled on the two least interesting people to have ever walked the Earth having the least interesting conversation to ever take place. These are the people that entertain us?
For reasons I can’t begin to understand whenever I see someone driving with their hand out the window and I watch it move up and down riding the breeze I feel a sense of hope.