I really hope there never comes a time where I need to run for my life, because I’m pretty sure, I’m dead. I mean realistically I can probably run at full speed for like maybe 3 blocks, possibly 4. But let’s be honest, whoever is chasing me theoretically is trying to kill me, so they aren’t going to give up easily. I mean running as fast as you can is like crazy hard. I’m just hoping that weird adrenaline thing you always hear about kicks in, like when a mother can lift a car off her child. The thing is, I know if that time comes I’m gonna be so pissed when I never get superhuman speed and I’m just out of breath and sweating coming to that realization like, “Aw fuck, I am so getting murdered right now.”
Have you ever woken up and realized you really have to pee but somehow your body has managed to contort itself into just about the most comfortable position humanly possible? And the thing is, it’s not like you’re just on your back or something. It’s like your arm is under your head and you’re sorta on your stomach but also on your side and one leg is stretched out across the bed but bent a little and your other arm is tucked under your body but balled into a fist. It’s like this complex position that somehow all of your body parts communicated while you were sleeping and were like “We fuckin did it, we all worked together and here we are.” So then you wake up, at first there’s that moment of pure unadulterated happiness…until your brain realizes you have to pee and you’re gonna have to get up, so you have this internal conflict on what to do. Do you just try to go back to sleep and wait until your body wakes up because you literally can’t hold it in any more? Do you try to memorize exactly how each of your body parts are positioned and try to recreate it after you go to the bathroom? Or do you just say “fuck it, I’ll change my sheets in the morning” and free yourself of that constraining urine right there in bed. Of course you get up… but may God have mercy, you’ll never quite find that position again. It’s so frustrating. I normally end up shaking my fists up at the sky screaming at the heavens something to the effect of “Why have you forrrrrsaken me!!!!” Dramatic? Possibly, but once you feel a sleeping position that’s comparable to floating on a cloud covered unicorn woven from Silk that made love to a Brookstone massage chair under a gentle blanket of warmth and comfort’s lovechild, you’ll understand.
I know it’s a little dated, but why did we ever stop talking about the fact that John Tesh decided to try a music career?
You know what’s recently started to piss me off? Have you ever been watching a commercial and it just cuts off in the middle and goes on to another commercial. I’m not sure why this has become annoying to me, I mean I hate commercials. But something about leaving me hanging, I just need to know the fucking conclusion. The most recent example that made me want to dial up Pillsbury on my cell piece and keep saying, “Well then let me speak to YOUR manager,” was this; A father and daughter are sitting at a kitchen table, the father is eating a fresh crescent roll and the daughter goes, “Dad, how come the boy I like, acts like he hates me?” And the father goes, “Well honey, he’s kinda like this crescent roll,” as he tears it open and…BOOM the commercial cuts off. What..the..FUCK? How is the boy like a crescent roll, seriously, I need to know. Is it something about the boy being flaky on the outside but moist and warm in the middle? That sounds nice. Or maybe French people like to eat young boys for breakfast in quaint cafes? It’s like a demented version of an S.A.T question. Do crescent rolls not understand why their bodies are changing and why they get boners in the middle of math class? I don’t know, but I bet it’s really profound and the commercial ends with the father gently brushing the hair out of his daughter’s face, scarfing down the entire crescent roll in one bite and then condescendingly whispering, “Does that make sense? Now go get Daddy a beer.”
Have you ever had an awakening about something seemingly normal, but all the sudden you realized how fucking fucked up it is? An example is pregnancy. Have you ever just looked at a pregnant woman and thought, “Holy shit, there’s a human being growing inside of that woman, like a person, stretching her stomach, just shackin up in there.” It’s normal stuff, that all of the sudden seems alien to you. The other day there was this little girl on TV and her front teeth were missing. We normally look at this and think “Awww, she has no front teeth, that’s adorable.” But all of the sudden, it just freaked me out. It’s just weird that we can look at a toothless child as something precious, but not an old person. I mean, when an adult is missing teeth we immediately think, “Now there’s a homeless Meth addict” but a child’s face just looks physically different to us, because it’s natural for their teeth to just be falling out of their face. I don’t know my point here, but it’s just weird. Kinda like how a woman growing out her armpit hair is just Nasty McGrossenstein, but a big thatch of hairy pits is awesome city for a guy. Maybe my point is, I should stop smoking so much pot.
When a dude’s sportin a V-neck shirt, you're workin with about an 80% chance he’s a douche bag, just sayin.
I hate to break it to you, but when a baby is born it looks like….a baby. They literally all look the same for like the first two months. I never understood when a baby pops out and someone in the family always has to be like, “Oh my goshhhhh, he looks exactly like (insert husband of wife’s name), just LOOK at him, he has Uncle Gary’s forehead and Janet’s eyes.” Nope. He looks like a smooshed face that just got squeezed out of a Vagina. He is generic BABY. It’s hilarious when they have paternity tests on Maury and they literally put up a split screen of an infant next to the supposed baby daddy. Then you have Leanne standing up and screaming, throwing herself all over the stage, “LOOK at HERRRR, she has your EYESSS and your NOSSSSE!!! How can you deny her!!! She looks JUST LIKE YOU!!!!” Bitch, you could make a case that your baby looks just like Barry Manilow, it’s a fuckin infant. On a separate note, I feel REALLY bad for Sholanda. Watch below and find out why.
Hey sweaty dudes at the gym, your awkwardly loud workout grunts are starting to sound uncomfortably sexual…you might wanna look into that, it’s off putting.
Why do I feel the need when I’m leaving a message for someone and they suddenly call me back in the middle of it, I have to talk to future them to let them know they’re calling. “Hey Tara, I just wanted to find out if…oh wait, this is you now. You’re beeping in right now, so I will be talking to you in person, bye.” I don’t like that. It’s a complicated thing talking to someone in the future. I mean, WHERE DO YOU BEGIN?!
The other night, the Director of the Emmys, won an Emmy for directing the Oscars, and accepted the Emmy in the control room while directing the Emmys. And then my head exploded.