I no longer believe there ever was someone named Dinty Moore.
Why are horses so negative?
Thinking about opening up a rock club on the Western Front.
I bet heaven is full of neon beer signs.
Damn, turns out someone built wooden sandals and faked all of Jesus’s tracks in the sand.
“Well, I could just let the plot turn to total dog shit and be finished, or I can do the work and write a satisfying third act. Dog shit it is!”
To put a finer point on it, it seems more like lack of money is the root of all evil.
“Hey, hot dog lips.” [And other thoughts that regularly occur to me in LA.]
Okay, sometimes the universe gets it right. At the gym, weird aggro dude shaving at the sink, but he’s also letting a shower run at full blast, for no reason. Someone shuts it off, he loses his mind, “Mf’r, mind your business!” Just rants. Then the dude who shut it off comes out, towel around his waist, he’s a beast. Like a 500-lb bench press beast. I’ve never heard anyone shut up so fast. A silence so absolute. Ah, thank you for that one, U. Applause, applause.
Someone needs to tell French guys in older foreign films to untuck their f’n t-shirts.
If there’s a maid in a foreign film, she will end up pregnant and in trouble.
The ratio of prayers answered versus the amount of prayers sent sure seem to imply that God is one stingy s.o.b.
If you have the chance, just skip undergrad and go right to grad school. I learned pretty much nothing in the first, and the whole world in the second.
Ah, non-prime time commercials. Nothing I enjoy more than hearing a faded athlete telling me about his dick problems.
I play thunderous applause from two speakers placed around me while I work out at the gym. We all need our motivators.