I started bringing sexy back but it was too much work, so I compromised and went "slightly disheveled with a splash of Axe body spray". It's been working out well since those helpful ladies at the flea market let me in on the fact that "disheveled" doesn't mean "without pants".
They told me I made my bed so now I had to lie in it. Turns out Skittles may seem like a brilliant idea for a fun 2am snack but they're crap at lumbar support. Next time I am going with the wiser choice. Bacon.
Last weekend at the bar I became convinced that I had lost all feeling in my leg, but then I realized I had been grabbing the leg of the guy next to me. Turns out I hadn't lost feeling in my face.
Is it just me, or does anyone else suspect there may be a link between the time you get up in the morning and your ability to tolerate other human beings? I asked a guy outside the coffee shop for his opinion but he had a stupid face so I told him to shut up and I walked away. A perfect example of someone wasting my time.
Back during the 1930's, before we had fully evolved into the finely tuned mechanisms we are today, our posteriors were connected to our bodies through the use of a bolt threaded through our belly button. Unfortunately, these bolts were subject to wear and tear and the threads would often become worn. This would result in a loosening of the connection, making itself evident by a pronounced swaying of the buttocks during various activities. When witnessed by others, it would be suggested the affected individual could benefit from an adjustment to their pivotal rod, a sentiment that would later be translated into the more commonly known phrase, "That person has a screw loose." It was also the earliest known occurrence of the curious activity later identified as "twerking".
Guy next to me at the bar is complaining about all the places he is not allowed to build his duck hunting blind. All I can think of is how I can smuggle the map out to the ducks. Does that make me a hero to ducks or a traitor to my kind?
Every once in a while I regret that I never pursued a career in professional sports. Then I remember how bad I was at any sort of activity that required a modicum of athletic prowess and realize I made the right decision. At least when it comes to sports. When it comes to everything else, I totally fucked up.
At my age, I feel I may be on the cusp of being considered charming. Until then, depending on who I'm talking to, I am either old enough to come across as creepy or young enough to seem overeager. This is why I tend to rely on the classic 'high five' in most situations. As awkward as it may be, as long as they don't leave me hanging, I drop that one into the 'win' column and walk on.
I am seriously considering bringing back sweatbands for the head and wrists. That would be my thing. Sweatband Guy. I realize I might be going out on a limb here but I already know it's better than my last effort. Diaper Head Guy. You think it would be easier to breathe through those things
Remember, the only thing we have to fear is fear itself. That, and those cats who squish themselves flat up against the wall so they can stare at you from around the edge of doorways. Those things can really creep you out.
Whenever you're feeling down and life has you pinned, put on some underwear that's two sizes too small and you'll be reminded that things can always be worse. Right before you pass out.
When the movie Breakfast Club came out, I compared myself to a cross between Anthony Michael Hall and Judd Nelson. Now I envision a bit of Anthony Michael Hall with a good dose of Ally Sheedy (minus the dandruff) and I am strangely OK with that.
Taking a nature walk today and a strange man stepped out of the bushes on the trail in front of me. Either he is the world's worst ninja or he was taking a pee. I didn't see a sword or any throwing stars so I am leaning towards the latter. If no one hears from me again, he may have proved me wrong.
George Washington once clothed himself in a burlap dress so that he could pretend he was a sack of potatoes while attending a work party. Jealous of his cutting edge style, George's boss fired him on the spot and stole the look as his own. And that is why being fired is sometimes called "getting sacked."
A science fiction thriller about a newly graduated gynecologist from Scotland who gets lured to a small town only to discover that its inhabitants are a secret colony of Martian women with a mission to populate the Earth with their unborn offspring.
I think they should make a reality tv show involving a group of roosters who have pencils strapped to their beaks and paper lining the ground of their coop. Each week they scratch out drawings as they eat and their work is judged by Gordon Ramsay who cooks the loser.