One of us is short.
Boy, isn’t it funny how racist grandparents are?
“There was a moment (1…2…3…) where I thought that I had gotten away with it. And then, no. The blood begin to flow; I had knicked an artery with my number 15. My lips had been stuck together with dried saliva, but a single prayer managed to escape: ‘Oh shit, Lord.’ Heart began to sprint. Blood came faster. A panic of silence filled the room.
Five years of medical school. Three years to specialize. 231 attending operations. 122 lead surgeries. Successes beyond expectation, praise beyond measure, but just one cold truth: Jane, my true love, was lying on my operating table, dying.”
-excerpt from my autobiography: “God’s Hands. My Knife.”
My friend sent me a message. Upon reading it, I was filled with a dread fear that there was something in the world for me, but that I would never know it.
The message said “OMG I had something I wanted to tell you earlier but I forgot it lol :)”
If you’re going to cheat on me, my only request is that you don’t.
WARNING: Glue dries instantly. Do NOT allow it to come in contact with skin.
“Quick! Act natural!”
“People who use smaller words than I do are idiots. People who use larger words than I do are pretentious. People who use similar-sized words are great. Somehow, I can just tell.”
Man.
I just want to fall in love and get it over with.
You know how some people say single, working moms are the real heroes? What about Superman?
Together, we can make the 90’s last forever.
I know it’s not the most original thought, but what’s the deal with getting up early? What kind of jerk enjoys that?
Idea: No Country for Old Men board game. Pick a character from the movie: Woody Harrelson, Psycho Guy, Tommy Lee Jones. The goal is to get the suitcase of money. Characters act different ways, like if you’re the psycho, you have to flip a coin, etc. Then there’s a pile of cards with different plot points. In the end, you have a weird dream and explain it to your wife.
Sometimes I am amazed by the duality of the individual human consciousness. Actually, nevermind.
My sister Laurie once sent me a birthday card with Corn Pops in the envelope. It said, “Happy birthday, Chris. Here are some Corn Pops.”
Weekly need for human contact: satisfied.