Breakfast for Dinner

Does that phrase get you as excited as it does me?  If so, I'll allow you a few moments to go and change your underthings.  I know I just peed a little, so I can only imagine what you did ...sicko.

Okay, and we're back.  So, few things in life get me as excited as the simple string of words "Hey, we're having breakfast for dinner."  ("Free pizza!" comes to mind as well as "What are you doing in my apartment?" but both to a much lesser degree).  I don't know if it's because it feels like you're breaking some type of implicit rule of the universe, or what.  It's very name suggests that there's only one time of day you should be eating it and that anything else is just pure insanity!  But no, we cannot be limited, universe.

So like some type of chubby vigilante, I eat whatever type of meal I want regardless of the time of day it's name implies.  Hell, I'll create new mealtime names just to make it right.  And I'm not talking about "Brunch" or "Linner" or anything cute like that.  I'm talking about creating something new altogether.  Something bad ass.  Something like "Dreakfunch."  ...Actually wait, no, nevermind that sounds kind of gross.  I'm a little less hungry than when I started writing this.   

Regardless, I still refuse to obey the meal name/meal time law.  Actually, I also refuse to obey the law of gravity from time to time.  It's true.  I'm that impressive.  It's like crouching tiger style ...but a tiger that's crouching because he's about to pounce, and not because he's about to poo.  That would be far less bad ass.

Anyway, I'm gonna go have a waffle.  It's okay.  Jealousy is a normal reaction in a situation such as this.

To Be Young Again

I'm sure you all remember the oh-so-clever 'riddle' we used to ask each other as kids titled "Pete and Repeat."  If you're not clear on it, the comedy gold went something like this:

Pete and Repeat were in a boat.  Pete fell out.  Who was left?  

You would answer "Repeat" which was the correct answer but, because of the incredibly clever naming of the characters, your 'friend' would intentionally misunderstand and the game would go on and on.  And you'd laugh and laugh and then go eat bugs or sour patch kids or whatever you did as a kid.  Maybe play with your pogs or slap bracelets (as you cleverly put one over your eyes so you looked like that blind guy from Star Trek.  You know the one.  The guy from Reading Rainbow?  Yeah, him.).

The thing I always wondered is why were we so concerned about the guy still in the boat?  Pete's fucking drowning and we're worried about who's already safe?  Where are our priorities people?  More to the point, what kind of assbag friend must Repeat have been to just let his buddy flail around in murky, crocodile-infested waters? (I'm assuming the worst)  I'll bet you to add insult to injury, he used his name to shirk any real responsibility for the situation.  While Pete was fighting for his life, Repeat probably continually shouted "Are you okay?" and would then giddily wait for Pete to shout his name back before repeating the same question a dozen times until poor Pete lost his battle with buoyancy (and those damn crocodiles).  All the while Repeat was probably giggling to himself.  

Between his father, Saywhat, and his mother, Comeagain, they probably had a blast at the deposition.

I hate that entire family.

Huzzah for Bragging

So in the past year or so, every once in a while I've submitted a little one or two line joke to the College Humor website.  They have an article called "105%" where each week they pick what they think are the best submissions and post them for all the world (or the few hundred or so people that frequent their site) to see.  You don't get anything for being picked other than whatever satisfaction you feel comes with it.  For me, it's a lot.  So here's all the stuff I've submitted that has made it, in no particular order.

- They say knowledge is power, but what if you know you're a pussy?

- They say chicks dig scars, but try telling that to the last six women I've stabbed.

- Every camera is disposable if you're apathetic enough.

- Life must suck for people legitimately selling tickets to gun shows.

- Words to Live By:

     Neighbor

     Street

     Cul-de-sac

     Other houses

- I dropped acid for the first time last week.  It wouldn't have been so bad had it not been on my lab partner's foot, and had I not been so high on mushrooms.

I think that's all of them.  Some are more inspired than others, and most are inappropriate because, hey, that's what makes me laugh.  I'll just keep plugging away because every little bit of self esteem helps.  

Tree Huggers Take Note

If money grew on trees, the rainforests could save themselves.

Childhood Memories

When I was six years old my brother convinced me that our dryer was a time machine.  What he failed to mention was that the future involved third degree burns and shit everywhere.

I'm only kidding.  I was four.

Kidding again, he's never actually done anything that mean to me.  Sadly I can't say the same for myself.  When I was five I was a big fan of Popeye, so much so that I actually made my mom buy me a can of spinach.  Let me just say this.  Spinach or no, there are few seven year olds in this world that can withstand taking a pair of knees to the stomach while lying on the couch trying to watch Fraggle Rock.  Mom threw away the rest of the spinach and I came away with the realization that you can do anything if you put your mind to it...especially if the person you're doing it to isn't paying attention.

Inspirational words, I know.

A Word About Conducting Yourself in Public

Hey there!  You with the headphones.  Yeah, um, just because you're wearing those headphones and therefore can't hear yourself fart on the subway escalator doesn't mean the rest of us aren't listening.  

I hate you.

Crazy Legs

So caffeine and I don't have the greatest relationship in the world.  I think it dates back to when I was a kid and first discovered Mountain Dew.  From square one that stuff was making me do stuff I didn't want to do: throw stuff at pretty girls, slam my head down on my desk to get a laugh from the class.  It was in complete control of me, and I loved it.  There came a point in high school, however, where I realized that I had consumed enough caffeine in such a short period of time that it no longer had an effect on me.  Happy days!  Now I could rot my teeth in peace, with no ill side effects.  

So here's the problem.  After many years of consuming soda without consequence, I think it's finally caught up with me again.  And I'm not even drinking the hard stuff.  Like an old, fat soccer dad, I'm drinking diet.  I can't drink the regular stuff as it hurts my teeth.  Also my left knee starts acting up whenever there's a storm a'comin'.  Okay, that last part isn't true, but I feel like an old fat sack complaining about pop.

The killer is that I can't drink any soda before bed because, come sleepin' time, I get the old mexican crazy legs.  It doesn't even matter how tired I am.  I could have just run a marathon (not that I ever would, because I'm super lazy.  Seriously, I got tired just typing about the marathon) and I could be exhausted, but if I have even the tiniest bit of caffeine before bed, my legs will let me know about it.  My body will seriously be at odds with itself.  My legs are all full of crazy energy and my toes won't stop frickin' wiggling.  It's like they're having an argument over which of them should get stubbed next, and then they all just end up trying to stay as far away from each other as they possibly can.  

At it's worst, one of my crazy legs will develop an itch.  But here's the kicker: I CAN NEVER FIND IT.  I spent a half an hour last night trying to find the part of my leg that was itching.  Once I realized the spot was probably nowhere near the leg that actually itched, I set off on a journey to find it.  I scratched everywhere.  And I mean EVERYWHERE people.  And other than getting caught up just south of the border, I had no luck finding the itch.  My leg just kept itching, my toes kept dancing away into the night, and I silently prayed for death.  

I guess the moral of the story is for me to lay off the caffeine, which is admittedly the dumbest moral to a story ever.  But here's the shitty part:  I already don't drink coffee, and I gave up regular soda, so why can't I just have this one thing?  I'll tell you why.  It's because if I could, then life would be fair, and that's just not in the cards.    

Damn crazy legs

... and stupid psycho toes.