- I argue very well. Just ask any of my remaining friends. I can win an argument on any topic, against any opponent. People know this, and steer clear of me at parties. Often, as a sign of their great respect, they don’t even invite me.
- Time flies like an arrow. Fruit flies like a banana.
- I have a strange craving right now for French toast. And syrup (the real kind!). And bacon, with orange juice. And a waitress named ‘Flo’ or ‘Betty’.
- One time in Tennessee I was watching these penguins at an aquarium for hours, they were so funny… and they had multicolored hair sticking out of their ears. There was this one big penguin who beat up the other penguins and got to the top of the rock. Then another penguin and his buddy tried to overthrow him but the king penguin pooped on them before they could and they looked very embarrassed and hopped down into the water. I laughed.
- For some reason, the word ‘Festoon’ makes me laugh. It’s not quite Fester, not quite Dubloon, and not quite Pontoon. Titmouse. How can you not laugh at Titmouse?
- Never buy a book on how to write books. If the person who wrote it really knew how to write books, he’d be writing something that would make more money than a book about how to write books. It’s all in my book about how to avoid buying books about writing books.
I haven’t bought pot since my stoner years, so I’m not up to date on todays prices. If plants are worth that much, then I may have to start a new profession.
Can anyone lend me their pot buying expertise… or, at least what “their friends” have told them?
And I mean really fell down. Hard. Like, throwing all your worldly possessions into the wind to catch yourself as you fall, leaving a debris field behind you as you lean forward with ever increasing flat footed heavy steps only to lean forward far enough to get to the point of no return and crash. Yea, that hard.
For me, it was about a year ago. A buddy of mine was at my house. He had come over to show me the new car he had bought. Not a “NEW” car in the common sense of the word, but new to him. It was a Ford Festiva (yea, it’s and oldie), and it was a stick shift. He had plans of making some sort of Redneck hump jumping, trail riding, mud skipping go cart out of it.
I walked him out to his car as he was leaving. He got in, and turned the key when I heard that all too familiar GGRRRIIINNDDDD noise coming from under the hood. Dead Battery. I thought about grabbing some jumper cables and hooking them up real quick to get him on his way, but then thought out loud, “Nah, I’ll just push you. Once I get you rolling, dump the clutch and it will start right up.”
I was leaned forward pretty far with my hands on the back hatch, but my driveway is on a slight slope, and it was a Ford Festiva that I was pushing, (Hell, I probably weighed more than the car did) so I had no problem getting him rolling.
He dumped the clutch a lot sooner than I expected. And he floored it. The object that I was holding on to (while I was leaning very far forward) shot out in front of me like it was in a competition to make it on the next “The Fast and The Furious” movie.
My feet immediately began slamming the asphalt with big flat footed “plops” as my body tried feverishly to catch up to its own center of gravity while my arms pinwheeled out of control.
Have you ever seen a race car go into a long skid, then suddenly start flipping end over end and coming apart? That was me.
I skidded and tumbled, eventually coming to rest on my back. My worldly possessions were scattered behind, beside and beyond me. My phone was out in front of me, my jacket was behind me, and my underwear lay beside me, whimpering.
My dignity was gone, and my friend had sped around the curve without even a glance back at the carnage that lay in his wake. I was all alone. Bruised and battered, I made my way back to the house where I soaked in a hot salt bath for hours.
So what about you? When was the last time you fell down?