Posts Tagged ‘thoughts’

Here’s a conversation that has never happened.

“[insert something bad that has happened] to me.” – Person 1

“I’m so sorry to hear! I will keep you in my thoughts and prayers.” – Person 2

“Thank you. I appreciate it. However, it would be far more helpful for you to do something.” – Person 1


“No thank you. I am more comfortable thinking about your problem. To further help, before bed I will get on my knees, place my hands together, and ask someone else to offer their services to you.” – Person 2

“Okay. Thank you for doing the minimal.” – Person 1


“Are things any better?” – Person 2

“Yes they are. I figured it out.” – Person 1

“It’s because I thought about your problem. It’s also because I got on my knees, placed my hands together, and asked someone else to offer their services to you.” – Person 2

“No.” – Person 1

I hate when people offer me their thoughts and prayers; although they rarely do. If people really were keeping people in their thoughts they would be immobile. If ever happen to pray for me I would like to know the exact words you use–just for curiosity’s sake. Never keep me in your thoughts or prayers if death is involved. That’s weird. I will then become “that person with a dead person they knew” if you have me in your thoughts and your prayers will have something to do with a zombie. Or maybe a vampire. According to True Blood lore, if someone dies you can bury them with a vampire and they will become a vampire’s slave. And that television program knows a lot of shit about logic.

tonydanza(“Thoughts and prayers. Thoughts and prayers.” – Tony Danza lending a helping hand)

I used to carry around a notepad with me everywhere because I get great ideas all the time and needed to record them. Then I realized I had to wear pants 5 sizes too big to be able to carry the notebook comfortably in my pocket. I write very big. Using a small notepad was out of the question. I decided to get with the times and start recording the thoughts onto my phone. Although many have been deleted to make room for more brilliance, today I present to you notes I have in my phone. Most are things I either dreamed or strange things to say during a conversation. Welcome to my nightmare.

(What’s scarier, Freddy’s face or his fashion sense? I go with the latter)

“He’s telling the truth. A vagina has more holes than his story does.” I said this to someone in a dream and thought it was clever and still might

“Calling Polaroids roids” Wouldn’t it be funny if some jock bought Polaroids from someone thinking it was steroids? Or what about if he bought hemorrhoids instead? I slay myself

“Big Apple = Big Asshole” My opinion on New Yorkers

“Someone’s a prick.” Not sure who this was referring to but it was saved in the same place as the one about New Yorkers

“Even the dumbest kid has done more than Shakespeare” I think I was going to try writing a stand-up bit about how even people with Down Syndrome get to ride in cars while Shakespeare still had to walk everywhere. Hilarious, I know

“Things black people ruin” I never actually made a list. If forced to name three things quickly I’d say the movies, the NHL, and property taxes

“Posture is the key to beauty” I guess this was a reminder to myself to stand up straight. Too bad I would have to look down in order to read it

“Homesick, living alone” This was based around a standup bit I tried writing on how I live alone but still get homesick and how it must mean I just hate being around people. I still think it has potential but I’m terrible at wording, speaking, and being likeable

“Jack the Ripper comedy” Back when I wanted to write a comedy based around the Jack the Ripper killings

“Prom with cancer kids” Not sure what this means, probably some dream I had or someplace I wanted to steal money from

“Boogers in the dark” This was about how picking your nose must not be fun in the dark because you don’t get to see how wonderful they look

“Unfunny people never make themselves the victim” I was going to write a whole blog about this but it came out really bad. Simply put, if you’re never willing to put yourself down you’re not a funny person

“Midget/baby furniture, Dale Earnhardt” The first two go together because a midget probably would use baby furniture. I don’t know where Dale Earnhardt comes into this

“Invisawig” Based on a dream I had recently where I invented something called the Invisawig. It’s an invisible wig that makes the wearer feel like they have hair but they don’t have to be embarrassed about wearing a wig

Several years ago a movie came out called The Ring. People flocked to this film. Naomi Watts was a hot item. They heard a horse falls off a boat and drowns at one point. Adam Brody also made a quick cameo as did Joan of Arcadia. This was a movie that had everything we could all ever want. The problem, it scared me away from rings. All kinds of rings. I cannot look at a circular object without being reminded of that creepy black and white upside down chair movie. I hate black and white movies! Even more, I hate upside down chairs. I’m afraid someone is going to stick a leg up my butt out of revenge. I owe money to some pretty powerful and perverted people.

Onions sometimes come in ring form. They are deep-fried and delicious. Onion rings are very underrated. I remember I would get pissed whenever my mom or dad would pick onion rings over French fries for me to eat. Look at me, some fat kid upset he doesn’t get the fattening food he was looking forward to. I deserved to choke on my chicken wings. Not always does the fried onion come in ring form. Chili’s has the onion straws which are shaped like Scarecrow epidermis. Scarecrow epidermis of course meaning hay straws.

(One time I got Burger King French fries and there was an onion ring at the bottom. My life went downhill ever since)

Another type of ring is the ovarian ring. I do not know much about this ring. Several health teachers in school tried teaching me about this. It’s basically used to prevent pregnancy. I don’t understand why anyone would ever want to prevent pregnancy. What are we, barbaric sinning pagans who have sex for pleasure instead of procreation? The only birth control I ever use is abstinence. The safest way to avoid having a baby, don’t have sex! Similar to the safest way to avoid a shark attack, stay out of the water!

(I remember this question being asked on Survivor about the sharks and only Johnny Fairplay got it right. Here’s the F, here’s the Y, I’m everything in between)

Speaking of rings and sex, there’s the purity ring. I hate the purity ring so much. I dated a girl who had one. I noticed her ring one time and asked what it meant. She would not tell me. Then I found out. Then we never spoke again. Purity rings are nice in theory. I just think it’s a little ridiculous that you have to wear a piece of jewelry to remind yourself what your values you are. It’s like my old hit list theory. If you have to write someone’s name down to remind yourself you want them dead, you don’t hate them enough to wish them dead. Some people go even crazier with these reminders. I know of a person who tattooed “Live” on her wrist to remind herself not to kill herself. Either that or she really liked the album Throwing Copper.

(Bald guy from the band Live whose album Throwing Copper caused many riots involving pennies being tossed at police officers)

I’m aware I have gotten older now that I look at a girl’s hands to see if she has a ring on it. I’m looking more for if she’s married more than if she’s saving herself for the wrong guy who will later divorce her. The big problem is I don’t know the difference between a purity ring, wedding ring, or NBA championship ring. I hate everything about finger rings. Have they done anyone anything good? Their only fun aspect is you can put it on then punch someone in the face and see your graduating class year imprinted on their forehead. The only time I have ever worn a ring was when I found it at the bottom of a cereal box. I could blow into it and hear a spinning sound.

(Didn’t Ace Ventura get punched with a Super Bowl ring? I really hope I remember the plot to AFI’s 12th greatest film involving Pet Detectives correctly)

Ring around the rosy is a popular game among children who cannot afford video games. Most of us know the dark history behind the game. It has something to do with Monkey Pox outbreak in the 1970s. I’m not exactly sure what. I do not pay attention to children games or Center for Disease Control history. The way this game is played is you hold hands and dance around in a circle singing about pocket pussies and someone named Ashley. I don’t know why I’m trying to write about this game. I feel like I got something wrong.

(Everyone in this picture is dead now or is so old they wish they were)

The more I think about rings the more evil they are. There’s ring worm. That’s something you get from being a dirty person who does not shower. Hula hoops are kind of like giant rings. I never liked the hula hoop. I never had the hips, coordination, or love for Alvin and the Chipmunks to enjoy this sham gift. It’s a fucking giant ball with a hole in it! That’s all a hula hoop is. It’s like they cut out the good part of the toy. There’s also that dangerous theme park game where you ride the carousel and grab a ring. How many kids reached too far, fell off, and had their skulls crushed in and bodies dragged along the dirt trying to get a free ride? A lot I’m sure. Nazis claim this is what happened to six million Jews during the 1940s.

(“Jews really want a free carousel ride. You know how they can be, always trying to save the money. What’s that? Concentration camp? My, that’s the most ridiculous thing ever!” – says the Nazi as he signals to his buddies to get the hell out of there)

I tried to write this with an unbiased opinion. Turns out I really do hate rings. Other than in fried onion form of course. Even the brass rings on binders have always scared me. Those fuckers are like bear traps. I hope I didn’t sway you either way much. But the topic of rings is like politics or religion. You shouldn’t be persuaded through a single blog post. It’s something you should learn about through life experience. I also hate wrestling rings. How do you fight someone in a circle? There’s no cornering someone. A real fight always needs some cornering.

“Mumble Mumble Mumble Mumble ring on it! Mumble Mumble Mumble Mumble ring on it!” – Beyonce “Spud” Knowles

Some argue what the greatest invention in the last ten years has been. People will say things like the iPod, the iPhone, or other products that are fun to smash. I have to disagree completely. My favorite invention is the 100 calorie pack. Bags of food containing exactly 100 calories, give or take if you actually do the correct math based on the macronutrients on the back which I have found when I have done can sometimes be off by a total of 30. These heroes of dieters have flown under the radar. They’re never on the cover of Life Magazine or making an appearance in Taylor Swift music videos. It’s time these desserts got their just desserts.

(This picture turns me on slightly)

Supermarkets are filled with 100 calorie packs nowadays. That was not always the case. Before you would have to get a Ding Dong and throw half in your neighbor’s mailbox to save the calories. Not anymore. Options have risen as well. I remember when these awesome inventions first came along we were very limited. Now every evil corporation under the sun makes these products. Even the Quaker Brand, who are run by vampires and never see the sun, have gotten in on the action. Options can make me nervous, but with so many wonderful ones out there it makes me jump for joy!

(Into their boyfriend’s arms, off bridges, or along side block lettering gays love to jump)

My old school favorites were the cinnamon muffins, the little chocolate bites, and the banana muffins. I totally forgot about the banana muffins. I am almost tempted to put some pants on right now and go to the store and eat a box. I won’t though. Too many people to run into outside my lowly apartment. I used to eat 100 calorie packs like I was the Pacific Ocean and they were Hawaiians paddling on a makeshift raft. These packs would be devoured by me. My lunch would consist of 4 packs of whatever ones I was in the mood for. Not realizing this was as healthy as maybe eating a whole donut instead, I managed to keep my ever-present sexy wet sponge figure. I’m sure I am not the only person to have a problem wanting to eat the entire box of 100 calorie packs. With all those strange addictions out there, I know I’m not alone.

Why exactly do I think 100 calorie packs are a great invention? It’s simple. They satisfy that need for something sweet in your mouth. Instead of getting ice cream, a candy bar, or an entire wedding cake like I have thought about doing, you get 100 simple calories you would probably exercise off anyway with a light 7 hour jog in place. People who jog in place are always big fans of 100 calorie packs. They also call them 1CP’s to save time. Not to be confused with ICP which stands for Insane Clown Posse. Insane Clown Posse fans frighten me. I don’t know a single one of their songs. They remind me of an angry version of KISS.

(Aren’t ICP fans called jugglers or something? Because clowns juggle. Clowns are also idiots who didn’t pay attention in school. I like that name better)

We’re in a time of fad diets and 1CP’s are there to help. I heard a girl recently talk about her fad diet. She said how today she could eat up to 8 bananas and could drink half a gallon of milk. The next day she could eat 12 ounces of steak, but she would have to also eat 5 whole tomatoes. This is no way to live. Did she ever stop and think this is insane? This diet works because it’s starvation. It has specific directions on what to eat which seems to be a lot of people’s problems. She’s not even all that overweight. I mean yeah she should lose 5 pounds or so if she ever wants a man to love her. But this diet is not the way to go. I had hidden in the girl’s YMCA locker room hoping to see some hot lesbian action. Instead I was privy to hearing how some people could hate themselves so much that they would fall for such a dumb trap. I’m pretty sure she gave up on the diet. She couldn’t make it through the day of eating 11 oranges and 2 and a half pistachios.

I hope 100 calorie packs stick around. Really, I do. I hardly eat them but I feel like they helped keep me from getting really fat. I’m sure others have had the same experience. There are so many wonderful products available too. Chocolates, pretzels, nuts, chocolates pretzel nuts, everything you could ever crave. I love 100 calorie packs. I really do. Probably more than any person I’ve ever met. They don’t judge me. I know exactly what I’m getting. 100 calories of deliciousness. If these grew from trees, Adam and Eve would have been kicked out of Eden the first shot they had. Could you blame them? Banana muffins are their own paradise.

(Too many nice things and too many lights on. These are always the homes where murders happen at. I would much rather have that banana muffin than ever live here)

30 days until the end of the world. I suggest loading up on these delicious snacks for your impending doom.

One day the world will end. No matter what you believe in this is fact. Something 6,000 years old, like earth, cannot possibly last too much longer. Armageddon is nearing. A homeless guy with a sign told me so. He believes that the end is nigh so badly that he was willing to take the door off his home and write about it in his own feces to warn others. Of course the door to his home is a cardboard sign. I think it used to be a Cap’n Crunch box. What he couldn’t tell me was how everything would come to an end. That’s my mission today. To scare paranoid people.

The most obvious way the world will end is like that movie The Happening. Flowers and trees will convince people to commit suicide. I don’t get how a patch of grass could ever control somebody’s survival instincts. What a bad movie. M. Night shouldn’t be allowed to make movies without ghosts. And Bruce Willis has to get shot by a naked guy in the bathroom in the opening scene to all of these. It’s the perfect formula to a memorable movie.

(From the film The Sixth Sense when Patrick Swayze suffocates himself with the palm of his own hand)

Actually, I think the most plausible way for the world to end would be a meteor. It happened before. Millions of years ago. It crashed into the Yucatan Peninsula which is located right next to Mexico. Darn! Poor meteor travels all this way to take out Mexico and it just misses. We’re probably due for a meteor to crash into us. Occasionally they do smash into earth and cause inconvenience. I know there was a bad one in Russia around 100 years ago. It burned down a forest. So a meteor’s impact is about as powerful as a man chucking a cigarette out the window into a pile of leaves. When did the power of a meteor decline so badly? You used to kill dinosaurs and The Flinstones. Get your act together meteorites! You’re an embarrassment to all things catastrophic.

Floods, fires, diseases, and volcanic eruptions are the boring ways for us all to die. Floods sound too thirst quenching. Fires can be prevented by stop, dropping, and rolling. Catching a deadly disease means you need to stop shaking so many hands. And the only volcanic eruption we need to worry about is the one in Yosemite. Supposedly that entire National Park is something called a super volcano. Don’t let the word super fool you. Usually super means good. Like Superman or Super Fresh. A super volcano does not rescue orphans or offer great weekly deals. It explodes then causes a chain reaction of other calamities. My knowledge of Yosemite may or may not come from the movie 2012. Best part of that movie, nothing bad happened to Africa. That’s where they say that they were going to head off to. I’m sure those Warlords will be thrilled to see John Cusack show up with the wealthiest white people in the world.

(The African Welcoming Committee, headed by Joseph Francis Kony)

More recently it has been thought that computers may kill us all. If anything the computers will make us all sterile. We’re more likely to have a Children of Men on our hands than a Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines. Can’t we always defeat them by throwing water or coffee onto the robots? I can’t even sweat onto a keyboard without it giving me problems. Some believe that it will not necessarily be big giant cyborgs attacking us. The more likely scenario would be that every electronic device breaks. We’ll be scrambling around to find solar-powered toasters. Probably start eating each other out of our lack of crispy morning treats. Pillsbury will be out of business. I guess we won’t care too much. The only way they’d be able to advertise at that point is via billboard. We’ll all be too busy unwrapping television cords from around our children’s necks to take notice of the latest marketing scheme.

There are more science fiction-type ways for the world to come to a conclusion. Things like alien invasions or nuclear holocausts. It would be kind of funny if we use our nukes to kill the aliens but it kills us all at the same time. Funny probably isn‘t the correct word but I‘m running out of steam here. The likely hood of aliens invading seems to me like it would have already happened by now. Aliens never procrastinate. A nuclear holocaust is very likely. I would place a bet that this is how the world will eventually come to an end. Is it wrong to gamble on the extinction of the human race? I’m over 21 so it’s probably legal.

(Say what you want, this is a gorgeous way for us to all die)

How do you hope the world ends? I’d mark out for a zombie uprising. The way you kill zombies always tips everyone off on how creative of a person you are.

It’s a good thing I am not the head of a major corporation. If I was then I would only hire people I knew and hot women. Maybe a few ringers too for an annual softball game against my rival company, GloboTek. Who knows though, maybe one day I will be the head of a major corporation. I already share a name with the head of Columbia Sportswear. Irish men all look-alike anyway. The transition will be seamless as I take his place. That is after he dies of alcohol poisoning or IRA bomb. I’m pretty sure that’s how all Irish people die.

I’ve always wanted an assistant though. A real yes man. Someone who tells me how awesome I am all of the time. For now I’ll have to settle for using my Home Alone 2 voice recorder. I’m kidding of course. My parents never loved me enough to buy me that recorder. That’s probably a good thing. Those things were recalled in 1995 after being linked to ear cancer.

(“Get out of here you nosey little pervert!” – the uncle in Home Alone 2 and Mr. Culkin when Michael Jackson snuck into Macauley’s bedroom via ladder)

If I did have a real life assistant though there would be many tasks for them to do. I won’t mention sex slaves because I don’t also want my sex slave cleaning my bathroom. That’s a bit of a turn-off. Like farting on a first date. Did she really think that would get a good reaction from me? Farts are hilarious. Never to be used in August in a car without air conditioning or windows that can be lowered. Cleaning my bathroom would be one of the most important tasks for my assistant. For some reason I’m a very linty person. I could make an AIDS quilt out of all of the black lint I find in my belly button. Are AIDS quilts black? That seems kind of gloomy. I’d imagine most are neon pink, the happy cheerful non-death color.

(AIDS quilts have such a Native American influence to them when it comes to the color schemes)

My assistant would also be required to drive me places. I hate driving. I get so agitated by everyone. I call all women with kids “mom”, all old people “grandpa”, and everyone else a “fucking whore.” Driving with me is the least pleasant experience one could have. Really, I’m a good driver. I’d go into why I’m fantastic but I don’t want to brag about all of the hit-and-runs I’ve successfully escaped from. I might make the driver wear a hat. I haven’t decided on that. Definitely if it’s a woman though. She’d have to wear a baseball cap. Have I ever mentioned how much I love it when girls wear “caps”? It’s so cute watching a woman pretend to be a fan of sports.

(Alyssa Milano likes her air baseball caps and air conditioning. See her nipple for further understanding)

Giving me encouragement is another thing that my assistant would do. While working out, they would shout out encouraging things like “You can do it!”, “Makin’ copies”, “Hi, I’m Deuce Bigelow”, and other lines that Rob Schneider is known for. My assistant would prepare many meals for me. They’d tell me how proud they were when I cleaned my plate and I’d laugh and ask for another manwich. Encouragement is the most vital of things an assistant can do for its master. Yes. My assistant will be forced to call me master. If it was up to me, everyone would call me master. It would make me feel more like the southern gentleman that I am.

(Southern Gentlemen always wear white. It lets us know they don’t have shit in their pants)

The rest of my daily chores would be accomplished with my assistant. We’d do laundry together and gossip about mutual enemies. Vacuuming would involve my assistant chasing me around with the Dirt Devil. We’d laugh and I’d know deep down inside that my assistant was only pretending to enjoy themselves in hopes of getting a raise. I’d joke that spending time with me was worth enough. They’d agree because they’re Polish and don’t want to go back to their home country.

I may even take my assistant places. I’m not so cruel that they’d never be allowed to leave the apartment. Rarely will they be allowed, but for celebrations like my birthday or my half-birthday they’ll be allowed to leave to attend the party. Of course they’ll have to do all of the planning and setting up. They’re my assistant. Not my thing to worry about. I’d also love for my assistant to go out to bars with me. They’d hype me up to women. Maybe put a few roofies in drinks and I could swoop in and knock them out of the hand last second. I’ll be a hero. The ladies will swoon over me and my assistant will drive us all back to my place while we make-out in the backseat. I know all bugs are supposed to have a purpose. I don’t know what ladybugs do other than hide in bathrooms. At least roofies can help me look like a cool dude.

(Collared shirt, sunglasses, and one of those cloth hats picnic table hats. So cool)

Please apply if you think this would be a good job for you. I would mostly enjoying a female as the maid outfit I purchased seems to be made more for that of a woman’s body. But I will not discriminate. As long as you’re willing to do whatever I tell you to do we’ll be a perfect match.

*This blog post has no affiliation to the one similarly done by A Gripping Life a few months back. I am terrified of being sued.

We all do terrible things. I’m convinced that we were all made to be immortal but eventually we do something so bad that we earn death. Our entire lives we’re told what’s good and what’s bad. For the most part our moral codes are the same. We know stealing is wrong and eating carrots is good. But what if what’s being stolen is bread for a starving family and what if every time a carrot is eaten a terrorist gets his pilot wings? Those are just two lame excuses and justifications that people may try to make in order to do a bad thing.

 (Bruce “Scorpion” Diamond, a once fierce competitor in Immortal Kombat, was moved over to Mortal Kombat due to his excessive demanding tone for people to “get over here”)

I try to make as few excuses as possible. It’s hard on me because I really don’t want to do very much. If I really didn’t mind making excuses I would do it a thousand times more than I do already. Can’t go out today, my knees hurt. Sorry I’m late, I was busy trying to come up with a solution to the abortion problem. There’s that old phrase “more excuses than a pregnant nun.” At least a pregnant nun can always go with immaculate conception. As long as the baby doesn’t turn out Brazilian (I think we can all agree that God isn’t Brazilian) her boss would have to believe her. If he doesn’t believe her then it’s because he believes the impossibility of immaculate conception in the first place. Therefore he denies the story of Jesus’s birth. So if you’re a pregnant nun reading this, feel free to use my argument.

Excuses are mostly for children. They can get away with a lot because they have sweet faces. You can also get away with hitting a kid. The children are our future yet we’re allowed to smack them. Isn’t that really sealing your fate of having the plug pulled on you 5 minutes into a coma? What separates us from children is that adults try to justify their errors. They give a reasoning behind why they made a mistake. Children don’t think that far ahead. They go to bed before 9 and actually like waking up at 6. I think it takes getting 5 hours of sleep on a consistent basis before you learn to justify being a bad person.

I always like to hear people’s justifications for using drugs. They say that marijuana is “from the earth” and that it’s “natural.” Plutonium is from the earth. Smoke that. Admit it, you only smoke pot because you enjoy it. Something being natural doesn’t mean you should do it. I don’t see anything natural about turning a coke bottle into a bong. For that to happen you need plastics, the invention of soda, and large corporations to distribute that product. You’re such a hippie yet you don’t realize how much capitalism it takes for you to forget about how your homework stress. Shut up and admit you just want to be lazier than when you are sober.

 (If a picture of your bong involves product placement then face it, you’ve sold out)

The best is when we get caught doing something we know is wrong. When a cop pulls us over for speeding we try to give some bullshit story about how we didn’t notice how much fiber was in our breakfast and that we really need to get to a toilet/Burger King floor. At least that’s what I would do. But I’m a good boy and never speed. I wouldn’t know what to say other than roll over and present myself to the cop and let him rape me for trying to get somewhere quicker. It’s the same reason why I would never cheat on someone. Eventually I would get caught and my only justification I could make was that I wasn’t thinking clearly. Then how about I clean out my brain with a shotgun bullet if I feel so confused? I hate when people say they “weren’t thinking.” Of course you were thinking. You were thinking about your own needs and wants. Whore.

Why do people even need to make excuses or to justify their behavior? Because we judge one another. If nobody was there to judge then people would do what they want and be happy. That’s not a good thing. If we didn’t have judgmental folk like myself then everyone would be fat unfunny sexual predators. It’s up to us to remind lesser humans how lousy they are so they don’t go out and become worse than they already are. I know if I wasn’t afraid of being judged I would be a terrible person. I would rarely shave, always be naked, and insult everyone I could. Not that I don’t already insult a lot of people. I would hide less behind a computer screen when I do it though.

(In the past warriors had shields to protect them. In today’s world we have the ability to hide our IP addresses)

To sum it all up, do what you think is right. Believe in what you do and you won’t need to make an excuse. It seems like too many people try to explain why things are the way they are. They say they like Backstreet Boys better than N*Sync because they were around first. No. Stop. Just say you like them better. You’re still a little queen, but at least you’re being less dishonest. We’re too caught up in doing our best not to make mistakes. There’s no need to worry sweetie. Everyone makes mistakes. Admit to them and you can move on. Don’t say that it’s the way you “thought it was supposed to be done” or other lame things I use.

“Excuse me while I whip this out.” – a black sheriff making an excuse for pulling out his junk. No need to do so sir, we all know it’s because you want to brag.