The Year in
Facebook Status Updates
is a little unnerved by how much you talk to your knife.
wants to know who you've been whoring around town with, Dinah! Don't tell me it's that banjo-playing creep who's always hanging out in the kitchen.
is done with hummus and is moving on to bone marrow.
accidentally left his bike outside last night unlocked, and now it's almost surely gone. I finally get the lament of "Someone Left a Cake Out in the Rain".
gargles vanilla-fiberglass smoothies right before he makes a ransom call.
is always suspicious of the tuba player ... what's his angle, anyway?
thinks his marionettes may have become real boys last night. I found them in a different spot from where I remember leaving them. Then again, I have been caught "sleep puppeteering" before. I just hope it was that, and that I was feeding them yogurt like they were babies, because otherwise my marionnettes had some r...eal boy sex last night. God, I gotta shake this NyQuil addiction.
's lovemaking aesthetic is "Don't need to be in the top 3, just don't want to be in the bottom 3." I just want to hear Heidi Klum say, "Congratulations, your scores have allowed you to advance. You can leave the runway."
just bet (and lost) his kidney on a game of hopscotch.
's fashion aesthetic is "stereotype camouflage": I want you to have no reaction to how I'm dressed.
can tolerate your asymmetric bosoms if you can look unflinchingly at my six-pack of nuts.
sees nothing wrong ... with doin' the butt ... all ... night ... long.
wonders if it was hard for Estelle Getty to play old when she was really pretty young, Betty White to play stupid when she's really pretty smart, Rue McClanahan to play slutty when she's really pretty demure, and Bea Arthur to play a woman when she's really ...
no longer steals public radio. I finally contributed --- suck it, all you homeless people who ask for my charitable contributions without providing me with "All Things Considered".
knows the phrase "mule on fire" conjures up images of hilarity, but it is NOT that funny in person.
just watched the American Gladiators ripoff, "Battle Dome" (Hulu it). The commentators are Ed Lover and Steve Albert, Marv's li'l bro. The personality archetype of each 'Gladiator' is hilarious. It's far trashier than American Gladiators and seemingly much less regulated for safety concerns. One event is basically what Xylon & Xenox called "G.I. Joe" growing up: sitting opposite and kicking each other in the balls.
is writing the screenplay for "Ghostbusters 3: Egon's Revenge"; basically, Egon dies due to Venkman's hilariously cavalier negligence with the containment units and then the remaining three 'Busters get haunted by Egon's ghost. Talk about a worthy adversary!! The ghost of Egon knows all the 'Busters formations and tactics. He'll never be outflanked. Or won't he? Find out in theaters, May 2019.
doesn't want to rob you of your dignity, friend, but I can't pay you unless you put the stuffed animal costume on.
ran out of milk, so he's going to just have to pour a bowl of Tylenol and Kix.
would like it if Buick named its first hybrid the Buick Rickshaw ... and if it were just a rickshaw and not a car.
is starting a strip club that caters to the discerning hobosexual ... it's called "Gutterballs".
steals public radio.
is sorry that Rondy Hynette isn't comfortable with my hobosexuality, but there's something about the combined smell of tuna burning over a trash can mixed with the "here today, gone tomorrow" aloofness of a hobo that really titillates me.
is starting a new thing called Re-Sike-Ling: it's like recycling, but instead of dropping your bottle in the recycling bin, at the last second you call out "Sike!" and drop it in the adjacent trash can instead.
has a sexual fantasy in which his body is a giant Bop It! being played by a beautiful woman ... "twist it! .... pull it! .... spin it! .... bop it!"
doesn't remember getting neutered this week, but his sporadic cups of decaf and his willingness to go with a bunch of girls last night to see "Valentine's Day" seem to speak otherwise.
would love to help you brainstorm ideas for your epitaph, unless that sounds like a morbid way to spend Valentine's Day.
likes his criminals like he likes his jazz: smooth.
knows it was a good burrito when he doesn't mind the burrito burps that come an hour later.
is mumbling the parts of the Hippocratic Oath he doesn't really intend to follow.
is looking for a Jazz drive, so that he can transfer some Betamax movies from work to his Laserdisc player at home.
just realized that the Y.M.C.A. is kind of like a country club for poor people.
is probably the only one at the gym who gets hyped by listening to Luther Vandross's smooth jams on his iPod.
is off to bed, hoping Judge Judy doesn't make a cameo in his dreams again.
is weighing which is more pungent: Fondue cheese or the inside of a college mascot's costume?
thinks it would have been hilariously ballsy if the Tea Party Movement had chosen to use the Civil Rights Movement, instead, as its historical homage to righteous indignation.
is rollin' up the dough, making sure to roll it slow ... and if you know of an easier way to make Billy Bobkas, I'd like to hear of it.
is designing "ambivalently inspirational" posters, featuring slogans such as "You gotta have your back to the sun to see a rainbow" and "Some times your third choice is all you're gonna get".
doesn't own a TV, and is therefore subtly imploring someone in or near LA to invite him to watch the Superbowl at his/her house. I'll bring the root beer floats.
hopes the afterlife is less like normal Life and more like Cinnamon Life.
is laced up from the waist up! That's right, world. I'm wearing corsets again!
doesn't like the label "habitual", Doc, but a "steadfast" smoker? Yes, yes, I am.
is sorry about the face God gave you.
doesn't get why there isn't more zip-line infrastructure in this country.
has modest sexual ambitions, aspiring only to meet or exceed the excitement of riding a Tilt-a-Whirl.
is trying to find a new way to use language in order to amuse you. Bald literalism, anyone?
wonders whose estate has been receiving ever-dwindling royalty checks for the invention of Backgammon.
saw an adulterated 4-way stop sign today, and he is begrudgingly willing to take the suggestion of its vandal. You had a good run, "All War", but now it's time to stop you.
feels pretty guilty about making Jesus my co-pilot, but, I guess I DID get better grades than He did in flight school.
has no problem with you ordering the more expensive wine as long as you realize that, in doing so, you are tacitly committing to propinquitous fornication with me.
is re-Kindling his romance with paperbacks.
doesn't understand, honey, why you're laughing when I tell you I want to have our wedding at Castle Grayskull.
: Do I know how fast I was driving?! I'm not even going to dignify that with a response, officer, unless you consider "awesomely fast" a speed.
would like to file an amicus curiae brief for the case of The Field Mice v. Little Bunny Foo Foo. The long and short of the brief would be that we, the citizens of the forest, do NOT appreciate Mr. Foo Foo's attitude.
prays that his homunculus has a golden parachute waiting for him for the day when his company goes under.
can only imagine what sort of parental abuse and neglect transpired in the Sour Patch Kids' household.
hates organized religion for many reasons ... but #6 on the list is the way it makes parking in my neighborhood tough when I come home on Sunday morning.
is wondering whether he'll end up a dapper old man or a crotchety one.
thinks Facebook may be flattering us a bit by referring to our stupid updates as a NEWS feed.
is looking for a good Thai joint somewhere in the Dagobah System.
will probably have fewer than 10 diet sodas in his lifetime.
wonders if taking 'Tussin and going to see "Avatar" in 3-D would cancel each other out (since this joke has "The Dennis Miller ratio" of esoterica, I should explain that one of the hallucinogenic ingredients in Robotussin causes you to lose your binocular vision)
is making his bed and can't decide between this down comforter and this AIDS quilt.
would love to tell you about the boogie hanging out of your nose ... but he's enjoying how superior to you it makes him feel.
wonders if Paula Abdul ever considers the fact that her lack of a talented, sober, employed husband is proof that Opposites do NOT attract. (sorry to throw you under the bus for that joke Paula ... you're next, MC Skat Kat)
's got LUDICROUS ups! (.... for a white guy .... with arthritic ankles .... who's sleepy)
bemoans the fact that you have to be Jim Morrison to "pull off" peeing on a crowd of people.
Oh, Gorgonzola Toothpaste, you were a misguided purchase.
really wishes the Ghostbusters had yelled "Busted!" more often as a catchphrase ... like as soon as the containment unit closes.
left my fart in San Francisco.
is back in LA. Your move, 2010.
blames the entire "Scared Straight" program for the existence of homophobia.
has no natural predators ... unless you count ennui.
is frustrated by how few places accept his Diner's Club card.
will not rest until there is justice in the world and/or it's bedtime!
wants to make a frugal suggestion to whoever will handle his estate: Don't hold the funeral on a Sunday, or else you'll have to pay Guitar Center for TWO days of smoke machine / strobe light rental.
is drastically underwhelmed by the artisanship at this year's Craft Fair. No, I do not need a butter tray made out of seashells, thank you.
is unplugging all the machines at his local arcade just so he can get top score when they come back on.
thinks cumberbunds are too awesome to be saved for formal occasions only. I'm gonna tone up at the gym, and then rock a pair of Wrangler jeans / topless, except for my crimson cumberbund.
is still trying to figure out what Mr. Drummond was talking about.
might not win this game of Risk, but he will defend Madagasgar until his dying breath!
has done some really freaky things with that lock of hair you gave him as a keepsake.
doesn't know what to get the terrorist who hates everything.
is cooking, cleaning, laundering, etc. for a family of four ... NOW I get why "Mrs. Doubtfire" was hilarious.
is crestfallen: he didn't even know Kevin Jonas was engaged, let alone married.
got to shovel snow from three driveways this morning ... it's like I'm back in the Canadian Marines again.
is sitting in a hospital lounge area, watching some pharmaceutical salespeople have lunch with a doctor, and LITERALLY, oh wait, I mean, figuratively, sucking this doctor's dick. Their personalities flipped a switch the moment he sat down with them. I'm actually freaked out and disgusted by the whole conversation/situation.
... oh, Black VELVET! For all these years, I've been singing Black ELVIS. The song still doesn't make sense, but at least I don't have to wrestle with that haunting imagery anymore.
hesistates to use this contraversial adverb, but it's retardedly gorgeous in LA today, which makes it all the more bittersweet to be flying east for a month tonight.
, just like Little Peggy Ann McKay, cannot go to school today.
is saying "Goody Gumdrops" WAY too often and is therefore looking for an appealing substitute that succeeds in alliteratively pairing an expletive with a confectionary noun ... "Egads Eclairs" comes to mind.
wonders how Big Red chewing gum made it through the McCarthy era.
wonders if photographers who have photographic memories ever forget to push the button.
doesn't understand how any cereal that tastes like loose gravel could be good, but Grape Nuts continues to impress nonetheless.
is quickening the cadence of his speech, since time is money and we're in a recession. I bet that MicroMachines guy is the only one managing to stay afloat in this turbulent landscape.
has successfully synchronized his bowel movement cycle to coincide with his eating cycle.
isn't a muckraker, per se, he just likes his rumors to be scurrilous, that's all.
dedicates this next song to all the people in the crowd with confused sexual identities - you know who you are! .... kinda
is undressing you with his bass.
is starting a Scientologist-Rock Band ... you know, good ol-fashioned rock, but paying proper tribute to Xenu.
is recalibrating his black-dar, after last night's State of the Union.
thought explosive diarhhea was bad ... but it's NOTHING compared to IMPLOSIVE diarhhea.
Hulu is going to have a compilation of all the Superbowl commercials for people who miss it or want repeats. I'm just wondering if they will show their own commercials during this "show". Sample audience dialogue, "Ah, man, I gotta sit through these commercials? B.S. Get me back to the commercials!"
bets the people who promoted "Look Who's Talking, Too" are kicking themselves for not having named it the "Speakquel".
cut his fingernails over a plate that still contained the crumbs of an everything bagel - as the nails combined with the bagel crumbs, it made an everything bagel seem like a bagel topped with poppy seeds, sesame seeds, garlic, and fingernails.
is sorry he accidentally elbowed your breasts and is now trying to retroactively enjoy that confusing stimulus.
sold your kitten into slavery.
wonders if nut farmers ever had any premonition that their career choice would incite snickering in immature men like myself.
isn't sure if it's worth committing to the joke to name my next album "Ooooh, on the THC Tip".
hopes that some circus reviewer for some newspaper somewhere ran the review entitled: "More like Cirque du SoLAME"
is a very gruntled, combobulated, and sheveled employee.
is just getting into John Denver's weird peyote-inspired recordings from the early 80s.
wonders if the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles' writers paused for a bit before employing a war neurosis like "shell shock" as a cheap pun.
french kisses his toothbrush twice a day.
isn't sure how he got off on this tangent, but he remembers taking a right turn when he reached the exterior of the circle.
it turns out, is a much more capable helicopter pilot in his dreams than he is in real life. My apologies again to everyone at the Make-a-Wish Foundation.
wonders whether the "P.T." in "P.T. Barnum" stood for 'potty-trained' or 'pregnant teacher'.
knows you have a "3 Strikes" policy, your honor, but he would really consider 2nd degree manslaughter to be a foul, and everyone knows you can't strike out on a foul.
sacrilegously wonders if Jesus, being that he was a carpenter, had any thoughts as to the worksmanship of the crosses on either side of him.
just shifted his 'nads, and in doing so brought about high tide on the Pacific seaboard.
is throwing a "Wildcard" into his local forest's food chain by spreading bags and bags of Skittles on the forest floor three times a day.
thought some raccoons were getting into his garbage at night, but it turned out to be Terence Trent D'Arby.
appreciates you trying to fidget with my broken wheelchair, MacGyver, but I think you may have lost your touch.
hates amortizing debt and prefers instead a random sequence of different amounts to be paid each month.
isn't calling your face a porcupine, sweetie, he's just saying he doesn't want to sit on it right now.
always keeps three loaded in the glove just in case the Amigos roll through.
wants to be the judge on Top Chef whose recurring complaint is “coulda used some A-1”
thinks that Cookie Monster would make a very interesting grandfather.
is quickening the cadence of his speech, since time is money and we're in a recession. I bet that MicroMachines guy is the only one managing to stay afloat in this turbulent landscape.
still needs a washboard player for Cajun Mudd Puddle, my zydeco-style Puddle of Mudd tribute band.
just brushed his teeth, at 4:30 pm, eastern standard time. I could tell you of the coffee/cupcake/smoking trifecta that militated against brushing any sooner, but ultimately, you're still just going to say "Ewwww."
is proud to have "Shiver" as my favorite Coldplay song ... it's so good I won't begrudge them their occassionally irritating level of fame. (see also: John Mayer getting a pass with me due to Gravity")
is worried that the “golden years” will be more like the backwash of life.
doesn't know what accounts for his sour mood; he must've just gotten up on the wrong side of the bathtub this morning.
feels like it takes forever to shave his Mobias strip.
doesn't care that it banked in ... Kobe hit a fuckin' falling-to-his-left, buzzer-beating-3-pointer over the outstretched fingertips of his worthy rival Wade ... ahhh ... I'm just savoring the last few Kobe victories as these two superstars ebb and flow.
is thinking about turning his status updates into something more serial and episodic, like “Rex Morgan, M.D.”
Grendie Wilhelm is leafing through carpet samples with her thumb and forefinger. The third one feels stiff but it has a flush, sanguine hue. The fifth one feels so cozy that she blinks long enough to see a room covered in it, full of soft landings. Unfortunately, it's a very drab, office blue. >>>> next time on “GRENDIE WILHELM, Dry Cleaner”: Grendie takes a a second lap throughthe samples. >>
didn't land on Fraggle rock ... Fraggle rock landed on US!
bets that Putin goes "over the top" every time he arm wrestles ... even if it's with his 6 year old nephews
is to sauerkraut as the KKK is to “The Cleveland Show”
just ticked off the WRONG pontiff. Gulp.
never was a cornflake girl ...
knows he should be angry, but nevertheless is a bit flattered that you picked MY pockets!
is the cousin with the drug problem.
thinks he may have just solved the Israeli-Arab situation ... one word: Armistice. Your welcome, Middle East.
finds that a basketball court is the only place where he is extolled for his lank.
is pretty certain "Skip to my Lou" isn't referring to 'Loo' in the British sense of 'bathroom'. Nobody skips to the bathroom. They walk awkwardly, clenching their loins together with their inner thighs.
wishes he had a dime for every time he's heard someone say, "Sir, you're still eight cents short." (editor's note: this update has purposefully returned to a PG rating)
is consoling a 14 year old on her loss of innocence, um, just 'cause I happened to be around when that happened?
knows he's getting old because the question “How much for Madonna?” is no longer rhetorical.
found your cookbook to be utterly bereft of satire.
just had a fart that came out so cute it sounded like a Mogwai's cuddly coo.
has no respect for mathematicians. Get a real job, hippies.
spent three hours last night beating a dead horse, and I gotta tell you, it's not as redundant as the platitude suggests .... I mean, the carcass takes on so many different forms as you successively cave in different areas of skeletal structure .... THEN, you get to play around with the innards ... I mean, really, it ...was quite an affair ... totally felt like time well spent.
has seen Kenny "the Jet" Smith, Dave Foley, and now Toby from "The Office" all in the past week, all in the course of droll coffeeshop / hippie restaurant stopovers I have in between teaching appointments. I'm going to start making bold predictions: Wed. afternoon, Rue McClanahan, Green Peas Restaurant.
is struggling to salvage this ham fondue.
disagrees to agree, despite our obvious consensus.
would have liked "Big Business" more if the twins had accidentally made out with each other before realizing they were twins.
would probably alienate his new coworkers the first day on the job as a forensics expert by continually attempting to solve every case with the slogan "Follow the money ..."
is, no offense to Patrick Henry, willing to accept an abridged form of liberty if the only alternative is death.
says, "Burning your tongue is like watching 'There Will Be Blood'. The next day, when you wake up and realize soomething feels off, you remember why."
wonders which of the five robotic cats was responsible for Voltron's dick.
inadvertently just spelled out the time and place of his eventual death during a very prophetic game of "Scrabble".
couldn't bear to take the last cookie, unless you fail to explicitly prohibit him by stating your intentions right n--- too late.
sees your lips moving, your honor, but all he hears is "disrobe me."
understands you would have to charge in order to teach me your Milkshake, and I am willing to discuss the terms of that arrangement.
calls "not it" on 'Brain Clean-Up Duty', in the event that the world is one day recovering from a near Zombie-Armaggedon.
has some muscular armpits.
wonders what a banana republic's chief export is ....
wishes he had more boils to lance. (and on a side note, thinks it's funny that there is a medical euphemism for "let's pop that nasty shit")
is thinking about how lucky cavemen had it: they never had to worry about accidentally brushing their teeth before they finished their orange juice.
thought he had already found and counted all of his superfluous nipples, however, a newfound chafing occuring on the back of his right calf suggests he may have a BAKER'S dozen.
is going back to cloth diapers. I mean, the constant laundering is annoying, but these disposable kinds are really chafing around the waste. Plus, you can see and hear them bulging underneath my jeans.
knows that each and every one of you is going to fart at some point today ... and when you do, think of me saying "Told you so!"
is going to have his bachelor party on a booze cruise through the Bay of Pigs.
is terrible at sex.
is searching for a skin cream that will fill the abyssmal emotional void we call Life.
is hiding a lot of things underneath this parka: a Spider-man t-shirt, body odor, a satchel full of mail, and a handsome serving of remorse.
is disappointed that the Afghan run-off election never materialized ... anyone have any need for 10,000 buttons that say "Harzai? Hardly."
is still monitoring the news for stories about children who may have died due to his poisoned Halloween candy, but no blips on the radar as of yet.
is making charcoal sketches of your mom in many provocative poses.
is reminding you that you can hear 'ugly' on the phone.
spent two hours sweating tears this morning as his desktop computer failed to boot up. Finally, Igot it to do so, but the lingering sensation of a piece of hardware that totally owns my balls is disconcerting.
is searching through his closet for a Halloween look and coming to the resigned conclusion he's going to be Ru Paul again.
got nothing but recessive genes from his parents, and let me tell you, the water is warm here inthe shallow end of the gene pool. Oh, nevermind, I just peed.
saw you nudge forward when the left turn arrow turned green. Now you're playing it off like you just wanted to creep a little closer to the crosswalk. You're so transparent, Car Next to Me.
wonders what sort of fertilizer they use at Pepperidge Farms. I can't seem to get Milanos to grow in my garden.
is all, "No, girl, you di'n't!!" and she's all like, "Oh, you KNOW I did", and the parole officers were all like, "Say whaaaaa?!"
is 99% sure the concept of "refried beans" was created either by accident or by necessity.
s srchng fr vwls.
stayed up all night in order to drive to Joshua Tree to watch a meteor shower. Now I'm paying thetoll to Mr. Sandman, all the while picturing the boxer of the same name from "Mike Tyson's Punch-Out".
is only ever truly at peace when he's cleaning his sawed-off shotgun.
is toying around with the band name "Deviated Rectum"
is going to try to avoid coming into contact with any photons today.
is trying to remember which character would be best for this level of "Super Mario 2"; if there's sand, then I want the mushroom dude because he digs fast; but if there are a lot of gaps to jump, I want the princess since she floats a little bit. Ah, fuck it. Let's do this, Luigi.
hopes to one day be rich enough to afford an indulgent $5000 bowl of shark fin soup ... just so I can finally stick it to all those sharks who laughed at me in high school.
is in a big ol' bowl of the flu. I wake up just to eat so that I can feel drowsy enough to get back to sleep, all the while counting down the minutes until I have to eke my way through teaching a four hour LSAT lecture. I've been considering what my response would be to the offer of "Eternal life w/ the flu or mortality without"
is rejoicing that after five months of absence, rain has returned to Los Angeles! Guess who finally just got his car washed!
is still not as handsome as Jude Law. These damn pills do nothing!
is trying to fit into the "spruce goose" to no avail.
just pieced together this morning the connection between "Chiclets" and the Spanish word for gum,"Chicle". This has already been such a productive day.
has been searching for the right spice for his steamed raccoon broth and can now safely rule out fenugreek. You're next, bay leaves!
refuses to recognize your sovereignty.
is thinking the tap dance portion of his interview is going to seal the deal with the loan officer.
is pickling EVERYTHING! ... carrots, Frosted Flakes, coffee, nailclippers, you name it. I defy you to name me one thing that isn't better pickled. And don't say something abstract like "justice", because "pickled justice" is still better.
is horrified by Latisse - the new prescription drug designed to save those cursed people with "inadequate eyelashes" - however, since the drug's primary side effects are itchy, red eyes, I now have a new excuse the next time I get pulled over while high.
cannot believe that it took 14 years of playing guitar before I finally experimented with putting the Wah pedal BEFORE the distortion pedals in my pedal chain. It totally makes a difference. Watch out Pearl Jam and Alice in Chains: I just figured out how to solo like you!
wants to go back to a more innocent time .... a time when Fruit Roll-ups didn't have to stoop to putting cookie cutter shapes into their otherwise perfect canvas of sticky, fruit-flavored chemicals.
is in love with Adrian Peterson's cutback. I'm not sure what shade of gay that makes me.
is in front of a mirror unabashedly singing Whitney Houston's, "Oh, I wanna dance with somebody!"
realizes he's old from the fact that he now can embrace cauliflower as an ingredient in his food.
is elated he gets to go home to Maryland this weekend! Thanks for getting married, George and
Amber. I assume you did it to give me a justifiable excuse to visit.
is scratching "take a museum tour somewhere in Savannah, Georgia" off of his Bucket List, and trying to figure out how it got on there in the first place.
wishes that Denver (the last Dinosaur) had kept some sort of journal so that paleontologists today would know how the shit really went down.
is no longer infested with ants! .... if only the exterminator had a spray for regret.
hopes that the first three weeks of heaven consist of God being astounded that I've never seen "Annie Hall", "Scarface", "Taxi Driver ", etc. and forcing me to sit in the beanbag chair in his dormroom to have a movie marathon on a 24-inch TV/VCR combo.
wonders if Georgia O'Keefe ever smoked her last name.
is going to see the Gipsy Kings at Greek Theatre tonight because Abby supported public radio ... is it any wonder I love her?
just saw a cool video about Peace Day (Sept. 21), and, despite being inspired by it, is now considering between punchline A: "Awww, man, I HATE it when Peace Day falls on a Monday" and punchline B: "Stay tuned ... by 2013 I hope to make March 3rd 'Yogurt Day' (presented by Gogurt)"
is not rigidly attached to his beliefs, just to his groundless, spiteful prejudices.
is going to surprise everyone with a request to have my ashes scattered in St. Paul, Minnesota. I've never been there, and neither have most of my friends/relatives, so this will give them a really good excuse to take a really mediocre vacation.
apologizes for the theological profanity, but can we talk about how big a dick God must have? (or if God is a woman, what a perfect set of breasts She has?)
feels like Cinderella, in the sense that he just cleaned a bathroom. (but also in the sense that burrowed somewhere inside of him is a princess waiting to blossom)
is wondering if the Indian burns he endured as a child qualify as a preexisting condition on his health insurance apps.
is all gravy boat and no ladle.
doesn't understand why Papa John's refuses to send me a large pizza with green peppers and hallucinogenic mushrooms.
is not speaking to Twitter until she apologizes.
is writing the screenplay to a sequel and wondering if the title "501 Days of Indian Summer" is enough of a give-away.
hopes that all the other condiments know to bow down in the presence of ketchup.
is willing to stop sifting through your garbage cans at night, but only because you used the word "please".
had briefly stopped believing until a song reminded him not to.
may not be the first person who slept on this mattress, but I intend to be the last!
will know he's gone to hell when they offer him a welcoming slice of watermelon, only to momentarily retract it so that they can baste it in mayonnaise. Cruel tease, hell. Well played.
is trying to build a better shoehorn. I'm thinking I need to somehow involve flax.
found it poignant that, after reading on Yahoo Mail's home page that Obama is now calling the public option negotiable, the one new email in Patrick's inbox was the word of the day from Dictionary.com .... "acquiesce"
is finally coming to terms with his belly-button.
just got Eddie-Munsterized by a hair stylist and is now really looking forward to about four weeks from now when I again might look normal.
is always going to let you go first when the metered on-ramp light goes green (sorry if you don't live in LA and have no idea what a metered on-ramp means).
Health Care talking point: socialized medicine removes the incentive for medical innovation. I'm sure it's true it affects it, but please. Did Einstein develop General & Special Relativity to make a buck? No. He's a problem-solver. Most innovators are. They can't resist. Furthermore, isn't "fear of dying" enough incentive for medical innovation?
wants to be part of the "I declare I like the idea of health care reform" Facebook uprising. However, he despises cutting and pasting. So let me just wax philosophic for a second ... say you're creating a government that will manage ...a certain society. Wouldn't part of its responsibilities be to help keep its citizens alive? Great. Let's do that.
wonders if Modern U.S. History textbooks teach today's students about the Cola Wars of the 1980's.
Who won those anyway? Was it Tab or Jolt?
wants to suggest to anyone considering cannibalizing him that his lean physique doesn't lend itself to large shanks of filet; you probably want to plan a menu centered around kabobs or just grind him up and have a Taco Night.
is putting his "feelers" out there to see how viable a run he could make at the 2014 gubernatorial race in Maine. Potential campaign slogans include, "Pa is the Trick Maine needs" and "If I do more than Ty my opponents, I wil...l Rell-ish the opportunity to govern you, Maine"
thinks that schools should be required to provide an alternative perspective on morality from that of Aesop and his fables. Aesop's fables are THEORIES, not immutable laws of nature.
wishes there were an avalanche of carcinogenic wild-fire smoke that he could possibly breathe in for yet another day .... There is? Santa! You're real!
would scratch your eyes out if he hadn't just clipped his fingernails today. I guess a stern poking is still on the table.
is dedicating this weekend to Lowenbrau.
knows what this status update wants, and he's gonna give it to her.
considers whether the expression "hot as balls" is still figurative language. It sounds like a simile, sure, but the expression "cold as balls" is just as tenable. Were we really comparing the heat or the cold to the common sens...e temperature of balls, we would not be able to contradict ourselves so easily. In conclusion, balls must have an extremely mercurial existence.
wonders if renaming the hippopotamus the 'sexopotamus' would refashion societal views of obesity. Only one way to find out, I reckon. Now, where did I put that phone number for the World Institute of Nouns?
will now try to duplicate the sound of his embarrassing fart by scooching in his seat or rubbing
his shoe against the floor; he doesn't expect to convince anyone that they didn't just hear what they think they heard, but maybe, just maybe, ...he'll introduce a sliver of doubt into their minds.
is kind of surprised the movie "Love Happens" would open itself up so easily to witty rejoinders by critics panning the movie such as: 'Shit also happens, and this movie is stronger proof of that phenomenon.'
wants to smack that smug grin off Kansas's face; I see you playing all naive, Kansas, like you don't know what you did. Tell 'em, Missouri.
wonders if shoe-shiners have a moment of pride or a moment of shame when they finish their work and manage to see their reflection in the shoes.
keeps killing time just to watch the expression on its face as it dies.
has finally picked a real career .... now he just needs to get whatever degree is required to be a warden.
is hiding a secret in his bushy eyebrows ... could be traces of cocaine, could be even tinier eyebrows.
was just fondly reminiscing that stage in college we all had when we experimented with cannabalism.
would like to impregnate Canada with funk.
is taking a second to make peace with the aggregate human behavior known as politics. The fact that this soul-less, amorphous matrix of desires/influence must be appeased in order to enact any major policy shift really keeps me from relishing the moral/philosophical component of governing.
will stop calling you "crouton face" when your face stops being an uncanny facsimile of bread-based salad garnish.
is shaving his cuticles. They're not growing hair yet, but I don't trust 'em.
is wondering if anyone saw G.I. Joe -- if so, please satisfy my curiosity: did the movie feature Jinx, Quick Kick, the Crimson Guard, or Destro? (i'm sure they're saving Serpentor for the sequel)
is developing a chewing gum that tastes like butane.
wants you to make a wish ... write it on a scrap of paper, fill a sink full of lukewarm water, and then drop the wish-scrap into the sink. Let the ink on that wish-scrap start to run and the chemical bonds holding together the paper start to disintegrate before finally pulling the plug on the sink and letting the whole mess go down the drain. That's what you get for picking such a stupid wish.
thinks signs that read "Parking in Rear" sound a little dirty.
doesn't know how his drug dealer knew exactly what he wanted for his birthday.
was seriously trying on his own outfits a second ago for his show tonight. The fact that the underwhelming ensemble I'll be wearing was meticulously premeditated will make it all the more disappointing.
treated himself to a package of raspberries last night, and, consequently had an exquisite bowl of Frosted Mini-Wheats Deluxe this morning. Tom Petty was right: it's good to be king.
just sold the use of a song ("Dog After Tail") to a company that pipes music through department stores in Europe. They wanted 'middle of the road pop'. This description is hilarious. [capital letter emphasis added by me] "...;No extreme genre's, tempo's, instrumentation or subject matters. NOTHING TOO MOODY, EARNEST, OR SERIOUS and no niche style's." Nothing too Earnest? They specifically want insincerity. Awesome
Hey, awesome. birthday. wooo. I would love to hear from you, but please write something more exotic than "happy birthday". "Secretary's Appreciation Day", for instance.
is trying to associate his upcoming age of 32 with Magic Johnson, rather than with O.J. Simpson.
is just walking around the nursing home, tickling the elderly.
doesn't get why snitches get such a bad rap --- clearly these haters have never experienced the visceral joy of snitching.
warns you that you never stop to consider how your leotard-crunched balls look from below UNTIL
you're walking across that tightrope.
is going with an alias today ... Stewart Brunson ... now, maybe Kelly will date me.
is beginning to notice how many words in Pig Latin have English cognates.
wonders what kind of distortion pedals they have in heaven.
is quickly getting used to wearing only underwear, now that he lives alone in a poorly ventilated shack in muggy, mid-town LA.
is considering capitalizing on the "Cash for Clunkers" program to turn his big ol' van into a sweel li'l Honda Insight, BUT his huge reservation is that he doesn't think his van is a "clunker" and doesn't want it prematurely killed when it still has life
just moved this weekend into a guest house in a rather ugly part of mid-town LA -- it's all the recording space and privacy of the Joshua Tree cabin, without all that clumsy beauty and serenity clogging the gears.
is searching in vain for scab-flavored chewing gum.
blames the Atari 2600 game "Pitfall" for his irrational fear of quicksand.
is picking out white leather couches for The Crotch's VIP area: The Taint Lounge.
is playing around with different logos for the new nightclub he's opening called The Crotch.
hit his head on a doorknob last night and has been speaking in iambic pentameter ever since.
can't bear to salt one more slug to death -- except for that weird looking one over there that's asking for it.
is a little underwhelmed by the new environmentally conscious version of Drakkar Noir; I'm sure you'll say I'm just imagining it, but I feel like, by switching to the urine of a NON-ENDANGERED fox, they lost some zazz in the recipe.
was just thinking - what with the ballooning cost of healthcare, the decline of American economic vitality, and the pernicious effects of global warming soon to unfold - there's never been a better time to NOT be your grandchildren!!
doesn't ever plan to commit suicide, but if he did, he would do it by hanging himself with a Nerds Rope.
just switched PIN numbers, still trying to get used to "4856".
's status update will win the blinking contest it just announced it is having with you. ...... ....... ....... ....... Ha! Loser.
can't wait for quantum computers to become a reality so that he can play a version of "Minesweeper" that harnesses the power of alternate universes.
is wondering if it's the weekend right now on any other planets. (all complications of defining "now" aside)
is currently writing a dubious Wikipedia page on the history of "Hopscotch," indicating that it originated in Northern Ireland when drunken Irish pub dwellers would force Scotsmen out into the alley and fire muskets at the ground, commanding them to "Dance!"
could never outdo the surreal comedy of the CNN cutaway he just heard, "Who's signing the Pope's cast? We'll tell you all about the nasty spill that sent the Pontiff to the hospital."
is trying to gauge how soon is TOO soon to sweep in on a rich widow. You gotta .. JUST .. hit that sweet spot of bereavement.
has been trying to count all 2000 parts of him that Lever 2000 is supposed to wash, but he keeps coming up about 3 short.
just segued from a morning "Hi-Lo Challenge" (look it up) into a Lifting Weights / Eating A+ Watermelon duopoly.
wonders what it would be like if Pixar did 3-D, IMAX political cartoons.
is confused by the racially defensive cliche of saying "it wouldn't matter if they were black, white, yellow, purple, WHATEVER" ---- yes it would. It would absolutely matter if they were purple.
is gladly forking over the last of his ski-ball tickets in exchange for a shiny, new whoopee-cushion.
is standing outside Sunday School handing out "The Conspiracy of Christmas" pamphlets on behalf of
is going to apply Magic Shell to every single meal he eats today, starting with this leg of chicken.
will give you your gun back when he feels like you've matured.
was posed the question "Jessica Rabbit or The Little Mermaid" -- since this is a question of sex and not marriage, I'm going with Jessica Rabbit.
is trying to find a Rec. Center progressive enough to host my new class, "Aggressive Kegeling for a Post 9/11 World."
can't decide if this turkey gravy needs a PINCH more gasoline.
told a cashier at Trader Joe's yesterday that he wrote and performed the theme song to "Roseanne" --- it was not received as a joke --- now Patrick wonders if he's that old-looking or that un-funny.
isn't sure what the antitrust laws are like in Munchkinland, but SOMEONE needs to look into the
legality of the Lollipop Guild.
can never figure out which clip art to use for a Bounty Hunter's business card.
realizes that professional whaling might be destined to remain a quixotic dream; he just doesn't have the forearms for it.
is thumbing through a guide of developing countries, trying to find those that are most in need of a blacksmith.
wonders if the teenage Webster ever smoked pot in the secret passageway between his bedroom and the grandfather clock.
hasn't seen THIS much fear in a kitten's eyes since he last tied one up in a jump rope and dangled it out of a helicopter.
What's on my mind, Facebook? Why, my money, silly. Had your silly prompt asked "What's on your
money?", I would have responded "my mind".
can't decide whether he wants that lone red Skittle badly enough to swallow the imagery of the dirty car seat out of which it was pulled.
is not saying he's ATTRACTED to your grandmother, ... BUT ...
is pretty sure Cobra Commander won't be attempting THAT doomsday scenario again anytime soon ...
wah, wahhhhh. oh, Commander. You're incorrigible.
got all the way to his lovely beachfront Honeymoon cabana in Honduras before realizing that he forgot to bring his toothbrush .... and forgot to marry his girlfriend or to even bring her with him. Well, it's HER fault for not waking up to the sounds of him packing a duffel bag at 3am.
sees the elephant there in the room but just ... will ... not ... acknowledge it. [posted the day Michael Jackson died]
is finalizing his yearly petition letter to Capri Sun's corporate headquarters, imploring them to provide us with at least 8oz per pouch.
is growing weary of canvassing the neighborhood with his "Dallas Sucks" pamphlet campaign.
really suggests you capitalize soon on his slice-of-watermelon offer, because this puppy's gonna go quickly.
isn't saying he's gay, but he totally wouldn't mind having a poster of Zac Efron on his wall.
could really use a zerbert. Where's Rudy Huxtable when you need her?
is starting to think that the high school student who told me that cat pee was good for your hair was possibly misinformed.
doesn't care WHAT you say. He still thinks Ru Paul is the sexiest woman to grace God's Green Earth.
thinks that Heathcliff could beat Garfield in a fight, because Heathcliff's all scrappy and Garfield's all lazy. Amiright?
wonders if there's such a thing as TOO much crack.
just went fly-fishing for compliments.
is soooooo two thousand and late.
's got 99 problems, but a combination of his small and large intestine, henceforth referred to simply as "GUTS", spewing out of his stomach, despite his ill-conceived attempts to stuff them back in, and causing general slippage among passersby, is not one.
's got 99 problems, but an appendix ain't one.
is relieved, more than anything, that Kwame Brown is no longer a Laker so that he didn't undeservedly get a ring for being a dud.
thoroughly recommends you get yourself to central California and its holy triumvirate of national parks.
is dissolving into the lightness of impending vacation .... eat it, Spring '09.
would like to meet the guy named Tom that pioneered the craft, nay, the ART of peeping.
is suavely offering your mom his handkerchief and complimenting her on a beautiful sneeze.
just dislodged some peanut brittle that's been stuck in his teeth since 1997.
misses the serene connection to nature and excessive on-the-job drinkin' of his grave digging
wonders if creationists would find it more palatable to hear "Humans evolved from lemurs" rather than plain old "monkeys".
wonders how long you have to work as a plumber before you're TOTALLY over "caulk jokes".
is all talk and no clown college.
wishes there were a video game dedicated to the art and skill of stoning someone to death. No cinematic backstories to the victims needed, just a crosshair and a wobbling "kill shot" area on the head.
just put on his penny loafers and is gallivanting over to catch the new nickelodeon .... (it's a comedy, so he smoked a dime)
can't decide which part of water he likes better: those bright, bold notes of hydrogen or that smooth oxygen finish.
is trying to figure out which Balkan republic would make for a compelling backdrop to his next novel.
wants to see an end to racism, just not in my lifetime.
is totally ready to switch lubes. Any recommendations? ... what do you mean 'this is an awkward forum for such matters?'
can probably beat you at basketball. That's not necessarily talking smack; it's just a statistical assessment of the Facebook friends he has.
is compiling a list of the life lessons learned at Space Camp.
wishes that California win the California state lottery so that it can ease its massive debt.
's shit is BANANAS. B, A, N, A, N, A, S. Ah, great song. But seriously, I'm shitting bananas. I stand up and there's just a mangled pile o' plantains down there.
is really good at "soft plagiarizing", whether it involves mimicking standardized tests or emulating standardized rock. Can I put that on a resume?
realizes that dragons are fake, but still finds it surprising that natural selection hasn't ever resulted in a fire-breather. It would kill AND cook your food in one step!
bemoans the fact that he works at night and/or doesn't have Tivo; what good is a day of hearing Sportscenter hype up game 1 of the Conference Finals if you're not home to watch it?
is proud of Obama for raising fuel efficiency standards; is Obama proud of me for riding my bike a lot?
is ready to do his part to affirm the word-of-mouth buzz you may have already heard about "Star Trek": from one who didn't give a damn about the series, the movie is great!
is just one more canker sore away from a killing spree.
just watched Abby officially graduate, which felt a bit quaint in the sense that she's already been working at her post-collegiate dream job for six months.
wonders if all the Thundercats in the world could take down one single Voltron.
wants to form a gang comprised of the Trix rabbit, Lucky the Leprechaun, and the "Cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs" creature (a bird of sorts?) .... all we're gonna do is beat little kids' asses and eat cereal.
wishes he owned his own junkyard ... just so he could take lazy naps on a hammock in the shade of his scrap heaps. THEN, Kelly would date me.
just wrote a song with hopelessly generic lyrics so that it could potentially complement any "Life is testing me" part of a TV show / movie.
is starting to have sexual feelings about the artichoke he's going to steam tomorrow at noon.
wishes he had been born in Death Valley, just so a lifetime of irony could have been his destiny.
bit his lip accidentally. It swelled up. So he bit it again, accidentally. Now it's a HUGE target. I hate you, too, Tuesday.
went to a funeral today ... so the big things are on my mind, a'ight Facebook?
can't believe Lebron got the MVP. Hello? Am I the only one who saw Stephon Marbury's meteoric
(last two weeks of the) regular season?!
needs to order more checks from inside a Suntrust branch ... can someone on the east coast pick them up and make a quick li'l visit to sunny Santa Monica? Otherwise, I'll be paying rent with my stripping singles.
wishes he were a warlock. THEN, maybe Kelly would date me.
just solved the riddle of "The Trinity": God is sine, Jesus is cosine, and the Holy Spirit is tangent. Separate ideas, yet all part of the same right triangle.
has very little free will today, circumscribed by a succession of appointments and responsibilities that will not ebb until around 10pm tonight. And yet, this status update is free will.
is fellating a candy cane in the middle of spring because THAT'S how much he loves Christmas.
is annoying the rest of the normal working world by relishing his languid, sleep-late-and-start-playing-music-around-11am Mondays.
is about to wash this weekend right outta my hair (by playing basketball)
was duly delighted and impressed with the Family Guy's efforts at crafting a legendary 420 episode
for us potheads; I assume the musical number, "Bag o' weed" is already drawing impressive YouTube
wonders how many of the 10,000 Maniacs have died by now --- it's gotta be down to like 9,964 Maniacs.
took the GMAT this morning ... Business school, here I (don't) come!!!!!
knows no experience of self-loathing as intense as that experienced when one forgets to move one's car before the 10am street cleaning. Mmmm, bile in my mouth.
is painting eyes on his eyelids so the ghosts who haunt him at night think he's still awake.
is starting to feel like the odd-man-out due to the fact that he hasn't impregnated anyone yet. If THAT isn't a good reason to start a family, I don't know WHAT is!
wonders what type of songs John Lennon or Bob Marley would write about the "Age of the Bailout"
is hoping that the $612 he just mailed to the US Treasury gets earmarked for something comically unnecessary.
is going to feel guilty every time he eats warm doughy bread in front of his Jewish girlfriend this week. [posted during passover]
is going to go show the toddlers & moms over at Marine Park how the game of basketball is played; still debating whether warpaint is necessary.
is wicked excited for his 2nd Seder tonight ... I want EXTRA tears on my parsley, please!
wonders if Blake Griffin is the same ethnicity as The Rock ... namely, WHOTHEF*CKKNOWS?
is going to see if a bed, piano, computer desk, and drums can all fit in a 12 by 12 ft. square.
is wondering if 'flax' is the new 'millet'.
likes to envision that the Ragu and Prego families of Olde Italy were as contentious as were the Montagues and Capulets.
is weighing which is worse: watch funk or belly-button funk? He currently has neither, which is why this is such a ripe time to ponder the difference. Perhaps, "ripe" was a poor choice of adjective.
just moved into a new house in Santa Monica today -- closer to the beach, bankruptcy, and the completion of a legendary double album.
is writing a prequel to "Natural Born Killers" in which TV's Benson and Mr. Belvedere hack up their respective employers and go on a killing spree.
is trying to decide if the haggard dude in the Boston Red Sox that just walked into Peet's is comic Stephen Wright -- 80% sure it is.
just neutered himself so that he'll be more appealing to all the girls who grew up loving their Ken dolls. On a related note, his severed junx is on eBay.
wishes he could afford something more labor-intensive than drip coffee so that the barista would have to write Patrick's festively themed name on the cup. [posted on St. Patrick's day]
misses the "Patrick Tyrrell is ..." prompt Facebook used to offer, even though I just deleted the "is" 90% of the time.
should teach a class on "How to Suck Dick at Life". Chapter 1 in my textbook: "If the Economy's Going into a Recession, Take a few Months off from work."
just figured out what was eating Gilbert Grape all these years: it was an intestinal parasite. But, society, you're not off the hook.
just dropped off his little bro at LAX, now feels deprived of a doppelganger.
is reconciling the man love he feels for Obama.
is in love with Funnel Mill, the most uber-pretentious coffeeshop ever; who wants coffee beans handpicked out of weasel dung? I do.
needs a bridge. Someone name a random key.
is making a pile of peeled neck-skin, thanks to a recent sunburn.
regrets this status update already.
is sitting next to his now-25-year-old brother in a coffeeshop we've each separately relied on as our oasis from solitude.
is resolving to say 'hi' to strangers more. And to stop pick-pocketing them (eventually), but, you know, baby steps.
is anxiously awaiting his first Office/30 Rock fiesta since returning to civilization.
is having a typical serial-killer Tuesday morning: still wearing his human skin robe and eating a minced-thumb omelette.
is bemused by Windows new slogan "Life without walls", since a life without walls would mean the non-existence of windows.
is waiting to exhale, getting his groove back, and being a menace II society.
feels like if life were a round of golf, he would be emerging from the clubhouse ready to tackle the back 9.
wonders if Obama's stimulus package will give the economy a boner.
is nursing his grapefruit-sized sprained ankle down to a comely tangerine sized ankle.
is sitting in his van, in the dark, looking kind of creepy with the pale glow of a laptop illuminating his face.
thought he had the "Eye of the Tiger", but it turned out to just be conjunctivitus.
is wondering why his endocrine system is rejecting the monkey bread from this morning.