and in conclusion pt. 5
Everyone has that one person in their past that has a weird effect on them. I’m no different. Sometimes when I think about her, it feels like my stomach is filled with butterflies. Other times, I simply shit myself.
“Where is it written that a man can’t smell musty?” After a moment he was handed an ancient and, ironically enough, musty tome.
I have a feeling that we’re going to be disappointed when we finally figure out what whales are saying. I’m guessing that all the fish in the ocean are sick of them running their mouths. That’s why giant squid attack them from time to time. One too many Jew jokes.
The nice thing about writing under a nom de plume is that while people know me as funny, they don’t know I’m “professionally” funny. I feel like Clark Kent.
The thief told me to give him to give him my wallet if I knew what was good for me. I told him, through my cigarette-adorned lips, that because one hand held a Big Mac and the other a double espresso macchiato, I wouldn’t comply because obviously I didn’t know what was good for me.
Sexy is easy. Just say something interesting. A girl at a bar once told me that she only dreamt during thunderstorms and I remember her to this day.
Just because you have servants doesn’t mean that breakfast is easy. All I want is oatmeal with raisins and walnuts. How hard is that? But every morning I’m furiously thumbing through my Guatemalan-to English phrasebook trying to get the help to understand I don’t want Maple-flavored or Cinnamon-flavored or JUST raisins or JUST walnuts, I want fucking raisins and walnuts, and every morning I’m forced to hurl the bowl of oatmeal at her empty head. If this woman shows up tomorrow with a bowl of anything but oatmeal with raisins and walnuts, she’s going to end up in a hole next to the gardener who kept over-watering my ficus.
I threw a box of Viagra into the fireplace and the chimney got bigger.
Anyone familiar with finding romance online has probably run into a scenario where the person they thought they were talking to ended up being a catfish. For those of you would decide to move ahead with the relationship anyway, let me warn you about the barbs embedded behind their fins. They can be quite painful.
Sitting on the toilet taking a dump when I hear this steady ticking noise either in the wall or outside. Weird thing was that every time I pushed, it stopped. As soon as I stopped trying to crap, it started up again. Sort of freaky.
I’m incapable of imitating the sounds of a blow job without moving my right hand up and down vigorously in front of my mouth.
LinkedIn has an amazing algorithm that acts much like frat guys in “Animal House” that constantly herded the nerds away from all the other cool pledges and sat them down with the other rejects. I don’t mean any offense to the people I’ve connected with but let’s be honest; the vast majority of you are nobodies like myself. Try as I might, I can’t connect with any influential people in my industry. Every time I try, I get pushed back into people like myself. This is high school all over again.