– Cesar, a Peruvian-American man that I work with has a bunch of tattoos. One day, an old woman asked him, “What do your tattoos mean?” To which he patiently said, “Oh, they don’t mean anything, they are just tribal tattoos.” The old lady became excited and said, “Oh! From your tribe?!?” Cesars offended face looked much like this:
– Blues Traveler, what happened?
– I got my electric and gas bill tonight. Once I opened it and saw what was owed, I promptly turned off all the lights, quickly got dressed in all black, put camoflauge on my face and crawled under my bed in the attempts to lessen the need for electricity.
– Last night I watched a show called “Strange Sex” on Discovery Fit and Health (a channel I previously had no idea existed). Anyway, on it there was a story of some dude with the largest penis in the world, he said at 10 years old he was already like 9 inches.
Imagine that middle school locker room. I bet he tried taping it back a couple times. I would have hated being his partner in high school gym! Holding his ankles down while the teacher timed a rep of 25 situps.
The funny thing is, this guy is absolutely hideous. He is awkward, weird socially and just kind of creepy to look at YET he has a large penis. He goes on to say that he has had sex with at least 100+ women. Really? Women, where are your standards? Aren’t you worried about damaging your cervix? JESUS!
– “Handlebars” would make a great name for the a suburban biker bar. Ya know, like the Applebees of biker bars. Hub caps on the wall, harley decals, and motorcycle themed menu items.
– Today I watched as what appeared to be a private school let out in Manhattan. All the kids looked like a walking American Apparel ad, and ALL kids were smoking cigarettes. I was thinking the whole time, “Aren’t your parents gonna smell it on your hair and your sweater later???” I would have been worrying my ass off. These kids have some balls, but like most New York teens they simply do not give a shit.
One of the girls goes home and her mom is waiting there and hugs her hello:
“Hayden, what’s that I smell? Hayden, were, were you smoking??”
“Fuck you mom, when’s dinner?”
“Hayden you are 12! You’ve got to stop! I’m calling the doctor!”
– Whenever I hear the people in the apartment below me I begin to wonder how often they hear me. I do what everyone does: paranoia sets in and I get very silent, thinking about all the times they DEFINITELY heard me. Like drumming on:
(seriously, the color, the design, the cordage…its a clone replicant)
– Sadly, the webpage the drums were found on was entitled, “Preschool Crafts.”…. I suppose my love affair with the drums is over.
– Nowadays, if Fight Club was a real place, they’d be like, “The first rule of Fight Club is…tell your friends about us on Twitter. The second rule of Fight Club is…join our Facebook page.”