Rambin’, ramblin’, rammmm ……………… Blin. (Parts 5 & 6)
When he was asked why he prefers older women, he said it was because he needs a lover who won’t drive him crazy. One who knows the meaning of “Hey, hit the highway.” A cougar without all the Mellencamp. Whenever I see a young person smoking all I can think is that there goes one more fucktard who bought the Philip Morris “Rebel Package.” Nothing I like more than misquoting people in front of people that aren’t quite sure if I’m kidding. Winston Churchill on war: It’s not about winning or losing. It’s all about having fun. Although I appreciate the sentiment, having a buffet at a wake is a bad idea. Especially putting a cheese tray on the coffin. It’s just bad taste. Also, however small the room is, don’t put the dips on the chest of the dearly departed. Nobody wants them being lowered into the ground covered in potato chip crumbs. I would love to see a diagram about what’s happening inside me when I think I’m farting only to discover that the gas is actually retreating back in. A reverse fart diagram. It would be fascinating. Even if they are proved to be to be accurate beyond a shadow of a doubt, NFL fans will never warm to the idea of psychic officials throwing a flag before the play starts. “Dolphins, #68 would have held on that play. 10 yards. Repeat first down.” It was so embarrassing. I got caught peeing in a Roadway Inn swimming pool. The worst part was that I wasn’t even staying there. No wait, the worst part was that I wasn’t even in the pool at the time. I’ve always felt kindly towards farmers, even since the day I spent driving through Iowa with a girl who told me that looking at all the silos turned her on. If you list yourself as “spiritual leader” or “life coach” on any of your profiles on any form of social media I must insist that you go fuck yourself. After I sneeze my lungs feel like a street looks after a thunderstorm. I taught a fish not to swim. It didn’t end well for the fish. I often think about a world where people are a lot less uptight. Where whenever you were discussing your penis you could just take it out. I hate when those people that fall over the railing trying to get a foul ball end up dying because then every time I watch the reply I end up feeling bad when I laugh. As an example of how far women have come in the last 50 years, in many fields they are no longer required to get naked during the interview. Chewing gum, however, is still frowned upon. While I like the idea of wearing white underwear I just can’t stand the 24/7 concern over being one itch away from needing new underwear. I was walking her to her car when she said the night was just getting started and asked me to get in. She started rubbing me through my jeans and almost immediately I ejaculated. The night was over after all. Win! It takes away from your enjoyment of viewing professional sports when you realize that all these famous millionaires are the same dick knuckle draggers that you hated in high school. Sometimes you need to take a deep breath and give yourself permission to be ok with things. While it must be nice to have gotten things right from day one, after 450 million years there have to be a few sharks that wouldn’t mind evolution making a small change now and then. Like horns. Would a set of ram horns hurt anyone? Or a peacock tail? The line between an old man and a young one is as clear as what they mean when they say that they’re always waking up stiff. Sometimes all the breathing, pooping, scratching, belching, hiccupping, sweating, peeing, sneezing and farting gets old. Sometimes I just want to be a brain floating in a jar. Stick a probe into my nucleus accumbens every now and again and give it a little juice and I’ll be hunky dory. The reason nerds love David Byrne (Talking Heads) so much is that he was the first frontman to twitch to the music instead of dancing. If twitching were cool, nerds would own the dance floor. Play the right song and I look like I’m having a seizure. I enjoy a good po’ boy sandwich but I’m always uncomfortable ordering one from a black waitress. “I’ll have the p … the p … the tuna roll.” Out on the road yesterday I saw three license plates from Alaska. Three in one day! Damn global warming. How many times at a Japanese restaurant can I hear adults discussing dishes with miso in the name in a serious manner before I begin to rub my nipples and yell “Me so horny!”? Two. My thoughts on avian drug use? Leave no Tern unstoned. Getting tired of first thing every morning rolling over and introducing myself to the woman sleeping next to me. It’s time I stopped dating women with alzheimers. I like to apply the “dance as if nobody is watching” approach to writing. Which, not coincidentally, is true. I don’t need to stop drinking entirely, just the last few that cause me to vomit through my nose at the end of the night. I don’t need a 12 step program … maybe just 3. 1. The room is spinning, you’ve had enough. 2. Is an a cappella version of “Shoot To Thrill” entirely necessary? 3. Put the bottle down cowboy, the girl you’re making out with has no front teeth. If people pay a lot of money to spend time in a free fall so as to experience the sensation of weightlessness, why aren’t plane crashes more fun? “This is your pilot speaking. The last engine has given out … you are now free to float about the cabin.” For a passion to transcend shtick there has to be a sincere enthusiasm that is palpable every time you discuss it. That’s how I feel about thumb-wrestling. Obviously when I’m peeing in the middle of the night, I’m not going to turn on a light and wake “all the way up.” The problem is that I have an electric toothbrush stand that, as an apparent added bonus, has a flashing bluish/white light that strobes every second or so which gives me the impression I’m taking a leak at the end of a runway. I never know if I’m peeing or bringing my dick in for a landing. Maybe I should put the light over bed, am I right ladies? Eh? Eh? When technology finally allows us all to communicate and interact as one we’ll have done nothing more than finally caught up to bees. I can only imagine how shitty our honey will be. I can’t listen to a Spanish-language radio station for more than one minute before I start expecting them to end every sentence with “Goooooooooooooaaal!” Got an invite to my high school reunion. I wish they could make my decision to go easier by stating on the invitation whether there will be an ex-cheerleader in attendance who has let herself go a little, plans on getting plastered and will be available for a grudge fuck. How to seduce a woman – Tip #37: If outdoors, pretend to walk into a spider’s web. She will find it adorable. If do right … no can defend. If I was ever a really famous musician, I think I’d like to play Wembley Stadium, except I’d only sell a few dozen tickets and have the fans sit on stage while they watched me and the rest of the band spread out around the rest of the stadium. (Come on, picture it.) As we lay face-to-face and I feel her breath on me I can’t help but wonder if my lightheadedness is due to the increased levels of carbon dioxide I’m forced to take in and if continuing to lay there will cause brain damage. Sick of wondering where all the spoons have been disappearing, I went out and bought 100 of them. Two drawers worth. I can barely close them they are so full of spoons. This is what you have to do to keep those forces at bay. I’d like to watch a football game where after every play they move the camera back just a tiny bit and when they are not showing the actual game they pan away exclusively to the punter, moving in on him just a tiny bit every time, until by the fourth quarter the stadium is only the size of a postage stamp during the live action shots and the only way to know how your team is doing is by the look in the punter’s eyes. “Sure, she’s hot but she smells like a Brillo Pad just before you have to throw it away. You know that smell, you wash the dishes and then you have it on your hands the rest of the night … all because you tried to sneak one more wash out of it.” (Long pause as everyone sorted through all the almost-metaphors attached to that observation…) *Actual Halloween-night-at-the-bar quote. Not proud of it, just sharing. After dispensing advice on how to be happy it’s best to avoid mirrors for awhile. You have to think that Steven Seagal is wondering who in Hollywood he has to throw using the force of their own attack to get an invite to Expendables 3. Once I recovered from the initial shock of seeing that someone had peed a hole clean through my snowman I was left in awe of the perpetrators strong flow and steady hand. Somewhere a gopher is working on a game-changing anti-hawk missile. I picture it wearing glasses and spending a disproportionate amount of time cursing its tiny hands. If the tips of our fingers were as sensitive as the tips of the male penis I’m guessing a lot less work would get done. Straight men would stop shaking hands with each other, women would shakes hands more often and I haven’t exactly figured out the effect it would have on the sale of gloves. More people would play piano, pretty sure about that. Everyone is always trying to find themselves. Not me. I know myself. It’s best I stay lost. Once we’ve gone through the heartbreak of losing our first love everything that follows is just recycled emotion. Different forms, same material. Not sure this type of recycling helps the planet. Had this weird dream where I was at a rodeo and as the first bull came out it broke his leg and just laid there. The cowboy refused to get off the injured animal, insisting that he was going to set a new record for not getting bucked off. Later another bull had a heart attack and died right next to the bull with the broken leg and his rider also decided to stay on top of him in search of the record. The two cowboys sat there for days, neither one of them willing to concede to the other. Then all of a sudden I was one of the cowboys but instead of being atop an injured bull it was the lovely Yvonne Strahovski. Give a man a fish and feed him for a day. Teach him to operate a trawler that catches 350 tons a day and soon the oceans will be depleted. You just couldn’t give him a fish, could you Mr. Helper? Although Halloween is behind us please stay vigilant with your friends for signs they are experiencing trouble with candy corn. The ashen face might be difficult to detect but there are a couple more obvious things you can look for. A bright orange stomach for one. And yellow feet. Irony: It gives me heartburn to know that somewhere someone is actually influenced to buy Prilosec by a commercial showing Larry the Cable Guy doing donuts in a monster truck. Don’t you hate that melancholy feeling you get as you pull on a pair of socks for the last time? Whether it’s because they’re getting holes or losing their elasticity, you’re aware that this is their final ride. At lunch at the restaurant you’ll cross your legs and catch a quick glimpse of one of them and your friends will wonder why you’re laughing with a faraway look on your face, as you remember that one thing that happened while you were wearing them. At night you’ll sit at the edge of the bed and look down and say “Well old friends …”
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