Posts Tagged ‘gym’

Just When You Thought I Was Dead

Saturday, February 6th, 2010

-I shit you not, I was at the gym earlier this week and a lady next to me was eating a bag of candy while she was walking on a treadmill.

-If space travel does become privatized after the passing of the budget for 2010, I wonder how long it will be before we see the first porno filmed in zero gravity. My prediction is 26 minutes and 28 seconds.

-Nothing rots your brain faster than watching an elderly couple try to operate a digital photo kiosk.

-If Peewee Herman had super powers what would they be? I think it would be the ability to rid the world of innocent children in less than 30 minutes of air time with just a rubber chicken and a handful of petroleum jelly.

-I live my life under the belief that shit will hopefully, eventually, work itself the fuck out.

-If your car is more than 3 years old and you use the “new car smell” air freshener at the carwash, you’re an idiot. If your car is less than 1 year old and you use the “new car smell” at the carwash, you’re also an idiot.

-Divorce court: where two souls joined together in harmony once again become two separate souls living miserably with more baggage than allowed as carry-on by most international air travel agencies.

-I want to be cremated and have my ashes dumped on unsuspecting people on a New York subway train. Wait, nevermind, I want my ashes put inside a piñata and broken open at a birthday party.

-If I could go back in time, I’d teach dinosaurs how to build robots. I don’t see any consequential problems arising from their introduction to future technology. None, whatsoever.

-Chewing gum doesn’t take 7 years to digest. That’s just silly folklore. It only takes about a week. Trust me, you don’t even want to know how I tested that.

-If you’re ever considering becoming a serial killer, I strongly suggest watching every Law and Order and CSI episode you can possibly catch. There are a whole bunch of great dos and don’ts to be learned.

-Whiskey whispers is what you call it when you speak softly to someone but you are too drunk to make any sense.

-There are two “Amateur Nights” I never attend: at the strip club and at the shooting range.

Shimmy, Shimmy, Shake

Monday, April 6th, 2009

-Out with the old, in with the stupid.

-My weekly routine includes binge drinking and a little bit of crying.

-Wind chimes; one of mankind’s most annoying inventions, second only to alarm clocks.

-Trapped in a box is too easy, I want to see a mime pretend to be trapped in a giant hamster ball.

-I got a tattoo this weekend. It’s a tiny little squiggly on the side of my face. That way people can tell me “Hey, you got something on your face.” and I can rub the opposite side of my head so they have to tell me “No, no, other side.” Then they’ll demonstrate where it’s at and I can just keep rubbing the wrong spot until they get frustrated and lie to me and tell me that I got it and that it’s gone now. Then I can call them a liar. This will show me who my friends really are. Friends don’t let friends walk around with shit on their faces.

-I’m strongly opposed to young people driving while under the influence of terrible music.

-Now I’ve seen everything. This morning I saw a lady on a treadmill wearing fuzzy house slippers. It’s a bold way of saying, “I’m here to get in shape, but I’m still too lazy to tie any laces.”

-”No human thing is of serious importance.” – Plato

-Hippopotomonstrosesquipedalianism is the expression you use to say that a word is really, really long. Should be pretty easy to remember.

-If the bed isn’t squeaking you’re doing it wrong.

-Which would make for a better epitaph; a man mauled by one really huge cat or a man eaten by three dozen regular house cats?

-The best inventions are the ones you don’t appreciate until they’re not around.

-Green is a tricky color. There’s only a few shades difference between forest green and baby puke.

-Nothing makes me laugh harder than seeing pictures of those people who put on way too much bronzer and now look like Oompa-Loompas.

-I had a dream that I woke up and went to work. Then, when I really did wake up, I went to work, thus turning my Sunday into the fourth worst day of my entire life.

-And lastly, some advice for the road: hanging out with assholes is a good way to smell like shit.

Calling Myself Names

Monday, March 30th, 2009

-Scarecrow: you have to appreciate that name for how honest and literal it is. Now we just need to start calling shoes “foot holders”, umbrellas “rain stoppers”, and condoms “can’t feel a thing might as well be jerking it”.

-You know a music album is really terrible when you download it but yet still feel ripped off.

-When you go to a strip club and your dancer has nipples that taste like cheap beer, it’s a sign that you probably weren’t the first to kiss her nibbly-bibblies. Either that or she has some seriously awesome hygienic mutation.

-Speaking of strip clubs, have you ever noticed that stories about trips to a strip club are a lot like fishing stories? Each time you hear the story told it gets wilder and crazier than the last version you heard. “So there I was, at Heart Stoppers’ Gentlemen’s Club, under one arm I had the head of the robotic dinosaur I had to kill in the parking lot and under the other arm I was carrying the urn filled with my grandmother’s ashes. Guess who came on stage to dance next! …Come on, guess!? Carmen fucking Electra, man! It was a crazy night!”

-Rumors travel around the office almost as fast as Chlamydia. If rumors travelled faster then the office would have known that sleeping with each other on the latest business trip would a great way to get an STD.

-I was talked into having a few drinks by this great tag line “This tequila is so good, it will make love to your mouth.” The part they didn’t tell me was that it wasn’t nearly as loving or as gentle the next morning when it passed through my mouth a second time.

-If I’m ever stranded in the desert, I’ll just call a friend and have them mail me some ice cubes or something. Sounds like a good plan to me.

-I want to start my own delicious pastry business. To stand out though, all of our products will be named depressing names, like Cupcakes of Misery, As Close As You’ll Ever Get To The Feeling of The Real Thing Apple Pie, and Because You Live In Your Mom’s Basement Chocolate Chip Cookies. At check-out, we’ll insult your appearance.

-Pretend you were in some weird knife swallowing accident and your voice box was forever damaged; would you rather have to sound like Darth Vader or have to talk like Elmo from Sesame Street for the rest of your life?

-Well now I’m off to the gym; partially to get in shape, but mostly because I enjoy being surrounded by sweaty, smelly people.