That’s like getting a can, filling it with worms, sealing the can, and then opening it up.
You don’t light a fire under someone’s ass with a blowtorch, you use a candle.
Trying to understand women is a lot like trying to ponder infinity. At first you think you can tackle the task and you embark with the false impression that tracing infinity until it ends is a possibility. Even while you are adding the first sets of zeros to a continually growing number or trying to envision where space ends and what’s after that, you think that you will come up with the answer and you can sleep. But about half way to one-billion or at around Jupiter you quickly become overloaded with a realm of human reasoning that is beyond any normal person. “But there has to be an end somewhere,” you say, but you are only fueling the helplessness of your very being. Trust me, only men like Stephen Hawking, possibly the smartest man alive, who is in a wheelchair and has to talk through one of those Speak-and-Spell machines can fully grasp the idea of infinity. I bet trying to understand “the female” is the reason for his current paraplegic state. What’s the answer? Every time you begin trying to figure out women, start contemplating the end of the universe, or how the world will continue when you die. If you can eventually grasp these latter issues, then women will be easy. Well, they won’t be “easy”, but they will be “”easy”" (I know what you are saying – “What the hell does two quotation marks mean?” Just another thing to think about).
Why do people walk the way we walk? I mean what is it in our society that causes us to walk in a way that our face is pointing the same direction as our forward progress. Think about it. Who was the genious who saw everyone crawling around and then said “Wait, why not just walk on the back two?” But why did he decide to lead with the toes? It makes more sense if people just started walking “backwards” (or what we currently define as backwards). This way you would never have to whip your head around when someone calls your name, you would never get shot in the back (because your back would now be your chest), you would never have to “look out behind you!” because you would be looking behind you already. It’s the perfect solution to absolutely none of the world’s problems. But still, it would be cool to see a bunch of Germans walking into things yelling at lampposts.
What is Snapple made from? Their slogan reads “Made from the best stuff on Earth.” What is the best stuff on earth? I think “the best stuff on earth” is relative and depends on the person. Me, for example, I would choose the following things and put them in a snapple:
- Milanos
- diced garlic (if you can find it in the supermarket)
- some of my hair (or what’s left of it)
- blistex
- dried apricots
- the first chapter from “To Kill a Mockingbird”
I think if you could chop/shred/puree all of this stuff together and put it into a drink, it would be the most disgusting thing to ever take liquid form. Therefore, I think that the Snapple company should get sued for this false advertising, because clearly, according to me, they are not making their drinks out of the best stuff on earth. Bastards.
Next time you cross a one-way street, look both ways just in case some lunatic is driving down the wrong way looking to run over people who only look one way when they cross a one-way street.
When does garbage become litter? This question came about when I was riding Long Island Railroad and the conductor asked passengers to “Take your litter with you when exiting the train.” First of all, are these guys really conductors? They don’t do any conducting. All they do is collect tickets, hole-punch little pieces of paper, and wake you up when you are trying to sleep. We should call them Ticket Bitches. I’d like to put that on their pretty little hats.
Secondly, he said “Take YOUR litter with you…”. I have litter? If I have a bag of chips and then I drop the bag on the floor, I then have littered. But if I pick the bag up, is it then “my litter”? When I had the bag originally, was it “my litter” or “my empty bag of Doritos”? The only way for me to have litter is for me to throw the bag on the ground and pick it up. Like I’m going to do that! And there are no “litter cans” only garbage cans. I don’t know if I want My Litter going into a garbage can, I would like a nicer Litter Can for My Litter. Think about the children, they are our future. Them, and Litter Cans.
Plus I’m not too comfortable having some Ticket Bitch tell me what I should do with My Litter. Who the hell is he? A person’s right to choose whether to keep their litter or not is a fundamental freedom of the American people. And don’t bring God into this, Litter is bigger than God (well, maybe a lot of litter).
The only solution is to increase the tremendous responsibility of the Ticket Bitches and have them put down their precious hole punchers and pick up some trash. And get those damn paper chads they punched out of the tickets – those things can really annoy the homeless guy who occasionally sleeps on the floor.
Ok, attention all guys . new rule: when you shower in a locker room at a sports club/facility, bring the towel with you. I am tired of seeing 65-year-old men who leave the shower and have to walk to the other side of the locker room to get their towel. It.s rather disturbing. Plus there are these guys who stop at the hand-dryers and dry themselves that way. What the hell is wrong with these people? I think it starts when you.re younger. There are some of you out there who like to horse around in the locker rooms, play a little grab-ass, and crack a wet towel at a few guys. Well stop that! You.re scaring me!
While we.re on the subject of bathroom etiquette, a comment on your conduct at urinals. When you are at a urinal doing your work, your line of site is restricted to a 3 cm square area on the wall in front of you or down looking at your buddy. At no time are your eyes permitted to wander from these two regions. When you first enter the bathroom and a urinal is being used, always choose the urinal furthest away from the one being used. There is an understood one-urinal spacing rule for all bathroom patrons. If this is not possible seek the use of a stall or pretend like your reason for going to the restroom was to wash your hands. Wash your hands until he leaves, and then take his spot. If the spot is taken while you are drying your hands, leave the bathroom, hide in an area where you can see the door. Once the second bathroom patron leaves, run for the urinal. If there is another person there for some reason, just piss in the sink.just kidding. That would be sick. Just try to maintain the one-urinal gap.
Now for those large troughs at sports stadiums. My advice: if you can, hold it in. There is nothing more revolting than these bathtub style toilets. I don.t know what these bathroom planners were thinking. What.s ironic is that a place like Wrigley field, which has the urine-tub, was built during a time when men were .gentlemen. and wore suits and nice hats to the ballpark, only to retire to the restroom and piss into a giant bathtub, shoulder to shoulder with another .gentleman.. Thank God for the sixties.
Basically, going to the bathroom should be a private, individual process that should not require interactions with other humans. Because there are public bathrooms, try to avoid all common social interactions once you enter the male restroom. Furthermore, the greatest public bathroom in the world is Chicago.s O.Hare international airport. If you have to go to the bathroom in public, hold it in, and fly to Chicago. It.ll be worth the exploding organs and the extensive surgery. They have automatic, plastic seat covers!!!
I like penny-loafers, but I think there should be an update made. Pennies don’t buy anything anymore. There should at least be a quarter-loafer. Europe could even get the Euro-loafer. Nike could make the little slit on the loafer look like their “swoosh” and make millions, not to mention add a little variety to the worklife of a poor Vietnamese laborer who has spent his life working only on the ever popular Nike Curling Shoe. The quarter-loafer would be the most ingenious corporate move since Joe Enron had lunch with Bill Arthur and Bob Andersen. And no need to worry about 401K because presumably all of the Nike employees have Nike Quarter Loafers, which contains 50 cents per pair. I mean I could retire on 50 cents and live miserably. Couldn’t you?Ok I confess that my hope for these loafers is a little darker than this. You see there is this homeless woman who sits on Michigan Avenue in Chicago and just yells at the top of her lungs “Can I get some change?” whenever people pass by and on Michigan Avenue people pass by all day. I’ve encountered this woman numerous times. One time I gave her change. The next I offered her food and she didn’t accept the Bennigans chicken fingers and fries I had just spent $15 on and ate half (I always eat half). Now I might be missing something, but if I were homeless I would accept food instead of some change. It really pissed me off. Therefore, I would like to buy my Nike Quarter Loafers, go to Chicago, stroll down Michigan Ave., wait for the woman to ask for change, and then just take my shoes off and throw them at her. I mean really throw them hard at her. I’ve always wanted to leisurely throw my shoes at someone and she would get her change a new pair of Nike Quarter Loafers. This way we both get what we want…somehow…I think.
Eastern Standard Time is by far the best time region in the US. If there were to be a fight between states that lived in the Eastern Standard Time Zone and the other three wack-job time zones, Central, Mountain, and Pacific, Eastern would win. All the TV shows always say, “7 Eastern, 6 Central” (Eastern first)- you know why, because Central sucks. Yeah, that’s right, I live in Central most of the year, and I hate every minute of it. You people thinking you’re so high and mighty because you can watch late night talk shows an hour earlier. Well guess what – you’re ugly. Yes all of you – ugly. What would Karl Marx say? He would probably agree – you’re all ugly. Then we got Mountain time zone – like anyone who lives in the mountains watches TV, all they do is churn butter all day and then eat the butter and then die of lead poisoning because instead of using the proper churning-stick they use a giant novelty pencil which they bought on a family trip in a Pacific time zone state no doubt. Finally we have the Pacific coast people, which consist of mostly hookers who try to get other hookers to sleep with them for money. It’s a continuous cycle of money being transferred after sex. Hmmm.