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[Oct. 28th, 2010|07:37 pm] |
There's no "i" in "team," but there would be if Apple made them.
It was a pretty fun reunion until someone said, "You mean all this time you thought you'd GRADUATED?"
I think it would be hilarious if I were ever a victim of identity theft. Hope you like being a loser, Mr. Fancypants Computer Hacker.
Call me a sappy old romantic if you will, but it seems that every time I have a cast iron frying pan in my hand I have an overwhelming urge to clobber some man over the head with it.
If my doctors have given me just three months to live, is there really any point in continuing to floss?
Imagine my chagrin after I spent thousands of dollars on psychoanalysis to discover that the roots of my mental demons were suppressed memories of old "Scooby Doo" Halloween episodes.
I think I learned a couple of valuable life lessons that night. One: The old adage about setting your sights on something and just grabbing for it doesn't necessarily apply in topless bars. Two: Metal toilets are cold.
I've heard about this "Speed Dating," where a guy and a girl meet for 10 minutes and then move on to the next person. Sounds great, but if you have sex, what do you do for the other six minutes?
Never get angry when you see your ex with someone new. Remember that your parents always taught you to give your old toys to the less fortunate.
I don't mind that my employer has a policy of random urine-testing, but I don't think it's fair when my urine is required to complete a maze or name the state capitals.
When I wave "hello" to them with my disfigured hands, the thing the cops don't know is that I cut off all those non-middle fingers myself.
Women are so fickle. My wife she told me that we should live every day like it's our last, then she complains about how I spend every day smoking crack and banging her sister.
A bad meeting is one in which they spread fifteen minute's worth of information over an hour-and-a-half. A good meeting is when they also bring donuts.
Next month I'm going to get my nose reshaped, face lifted, tummy tucked, breasts enhanced and butt lifted. I want the real me to come out.
I hate that dream where you have to pee really bad and you wake up and have to run to the bathroom before you pee all over yourself. But it's still better than the one where you dream you’re stranded alone on an island and you have to remove your own appendix before it bursts and you wake up and have to run to the ER before you bleed to death. I REALLY hate that one.
One of the best things about living in the Information Age is that no matter what your view may be on any topic, there's somebody out there who has an even more extreme view and has posted proof on the Internet.
If smiling is proven to elevate our mood by releasing endorphins, should we manually wag our dogs' tails when they look glum? |
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