Sizzle was nice enough to ask me if I would fill in her Monday post since she won’t be here, and I just wanted to say that even though I haven’t had a chance to meet you in person, I still think of you as a friend. So, Sizzle, I hope you are having a great time in the sun right now, and I wish you a heartfelt, though belated, Happy Birthday. I hope I’m at least getting a piece of cake for this.
So I’ve been getting a lot of phone calls lately from the number 000-000-0000. Normally I let the machine get it, because I still have an answering machine since I am stuck in the 20th century, but it’s always a hang up. Yesterday, my curiosity got the better of me and when I answered, it was Jeanine from the Smoker’s Rights Society. Are you kidding me? This is what was so important that it warranted daily calls for two weeks? What could this lady possibly have wanted from me? Is there some sort of smoker’s protest march coming up or something? How far could a bunch of smokers march anyway before falling down wheezing and puking? Anyway, I never found out because this is how the conversation went:
Jeanine: “Hello, this is Jeanine from the Smoker’s Rights Society. Are you a smoker, sir?
Me: “WELL HELL YEAH! i’M A SMO-HO-HO-COUGH-COUGH-HAAAACK….”
Jeanine actually let me do that for about thirty seconds before she called me an asshole and hung up. Smokers have no sense of humor.
I bought a box of “Smokey Robinson’s (The soul is in the bowl!) red beans and rice” the other day. I’m probably never going to be in the mood to eat a bowlful of souls, I just like the weirdness of Smokey Robinson smiling at me when I open my freezer. I figure that until I see a bag of Oprah fries or Dr. Phil fish-sticks, Smokey’s going to remain unchallenged.
Dumb-ass quotes I hear which beg the question: “How is it possible that you didn’t realize that you just said something that was made out of dumb-ass?”
This is a quote from who is arguably a major douchbag, taken from the show “Millionaire Matchmaker”
I’m not proud of the fact that I watched this show.
Douchebag: “I don’t know if she was interested in me, which I found really interesting.”
What the hoo-hah does that shit mean? I reversed it just to make sure that I didn’t just have an aneurysm and confuse the words, but that is what he said. Shortly after that, my cable box heaved itself onto the floor and broke after that same guy refused to eat his dinner salad until he had meditated for three minutes about eating his dinner salad.
So I have a slipped disk in my back- according to the doctor, who was nice enough to hook a patient up with some Vicodin and muscle-relaxers. I don’t know if any of you have ever taken these two medications in combination before, but I will tell you a couple things that you should know:
1) You will be happy.
2) Your brain will cease to care if it makes sense anymore.
Yesterday, when I woke up, I had that helpless feeling you get after waking up from one of those naked-in-the-classroom type dreams. I have no idea what I was dreaming about, but the first thing I said when I woke, still half asleep, was “I never had a merkin.” I said this with quite a bit of dismay.
If any of you don’t know what a merkin is, I’ve added an illustration:
Let’s hope that this is a freak side-effect of the medication, and not the beginnings of some strange, selective-wig fetish.
Today’s post has been brought to you by Hubblewhig L. Mcspitz, the depressed English Angora rabbit!——————>
Imnotbenny: He’s pretty much made out of awesome.