Yup. Still beating this dead horse. It’s not even recognizable as a horse anymore at this point. It’s like I’m beating a somewhat soft, fuzzy, bizarrely-shaped rock at this point. A soft fuzzy rock that squirts out ketchup like those fancy machines they have over at that classy diner up on Grand Street called Micky Deeze. You know that place I’m talking about. The one where all the regal folks go after getting gussied up in their finest wears. They have all sorts of fancy wrapping papers and sliced potato treats and dipping sauces to slather all over your meal that are fit for a king. This post is making me hungry. Let’s get this over with.
1) I tried to smell what the Rock was cooking once, but it turns out steroids are odorless.
2) I wanna direct a blue-blooded action movie. It’s like a red-blooded action movie, but with more powdered wigs and entitlement.
3) I don’t get high school reunions. It’s a place you were required to go to. Do prison inmates have prison reunions?
4) What if ukuleles aren’t small, but in actuality, everyone who plays a ukulele is really large.
5) I wonder if Gary Busey’s diarrhea can eat through anything it touches, much like the blood of the creatures from the movie Alien.
6) Is there a news anchor school, or do news programs specifically hire people who already speak in obnoxious unnatural cadences?
7) There was either a minor earthquake in my area this evening, or an extremely obese intruder fell somewhere in my house.
8) I scream, you scream, we all scream, the neighbors call the cops.
9) I’m going to move to Jamaica and open a store that sells nothing but echo pedals. I’ll be a millionaire by the end of next week.
10) I lost my shit once. Turns out it was still in the toilet where I left it.