Monday, November 25, 2002
I’ve never seen a dog smile.
Maybe dogs don’t like you.
What’s not to like?
It’s not a dilemma for me; I don’t like any kind of snot.
I never got my dilemma. For High School.
Diploma.
God Bless You.
You weren’t able to finish High School?
No, and for that I blame the Finns.
At least you could have lettered on the swim team.
Nope, they were papier-mâché.
You tested them out?
Yes, in the kiddie pool. I didn’t want to drown.
I think your classmates would have outvoted you on that one.
Who’s Juan? I think you may have the brain fever, you’re obviously confused.
At least you know you can’t catch it from me.
Good point.
So what did you do after high school?
I wanted to go to culinary school in Ireland, but I couldn’t find one.
You might as well face it, you love fuckin’ potatoes.
Only when there aren’t any ripe pumpkins handy.
Well, let’s just hope Farmer Brown doesn’t bring a paternity suit.
No kidding. Are those the ones with the big lapels? Yuck.
Anyone ever tell you you’re a genius?
Not since I started keeping track.
Shocking, that is.
Angry Like a Eunuch’s Long-Gone Balls
Oh, I just saw jackass: the movie, by the way. So what’s the big deal? Seems like any normal weekend with your buddies and a trunk full of beer to me. Putting a taser to your nutsack and jumping out of a tree with a bungee cord attached to your underwear isn’t even a memorable weekend on my block.
The Myth of American Constipation
Knock on wood and hopefully I’m not screwing myself here, but is constipation really the big national problem these TV commercials make it out to be? Who are these poor suckers who are getting so desperately plugged up on a regular basis?
The Dating Game: Ages 10 and Up
When you think about it, once we started demanding that everybody should look like ten year-old girls with abnormally accelerated breast development, it was only a matter of time before people would start hacking out their ribs and having botulism injected into their faces and eating seaweed.