Not too long ago, I StumbledUpon the awesomeness of “What I Should Have Said”. The premise behind this site is simple. Users are encouraged to share a situation in which they neglected to come up with a witty or scathing retort, then take an opportunity to express what they should have said in the first place. A lot of the anecdotes are downright hilarious and well worth the read. If you have some free time, I recommend checking this place out.
Being a fan of Seinfeld, anything to do with second-chance-responses (SCR) makes me think of the episode where George was insulted by a co-worker for eating too many shrimp. Long after the incident occurred, George thinks of the retaliatory Jerk Store line and spends the remaining part of the show trying to use it.
“Hey George the ocean called, they’re running out of shrimp!
“Oh yeah? Well the Jerk Store called, they’re running out of YOU!”
More clever one-liners...
Robert Downey, Jr. is HOT; HOT like a habanero chili pepper soaked in Tabasco sauce, wearing a wool sweater in the flaming recesses of Hell.
I was tempted to limit my post to that one sentence, but I thought it would be a waste. I mean, with so many words in the English language, surely I could expound on my feelings for this man (no offense Jan, but you know how it is).
Last Saturday Jan and I made plans to go to dinner, then see Iron Man afterwards. Needless to say I was 
pretty pumped about the whole evening. We wound up going to Marie Callendars where I gorged myself on their sinfully delicious Chicken Fettuccine Alfredo. My God that dish is good. If you want to know what it feels like to have your taste buds reach a level of euphoria known only to the few strong enough to survive such pleasure, then I suggest you order this entree next time you make it into one of these fine establishments (Best. Sentence. Ever). The sauce was full of flavor and so rich and creamy, the chicken was delicious and tender, the pasta cooked to perfection. Yeah, it was definitely some good shit. I could practically feel my arteries closing up as I shoveled bite after bite into my greasy face. But fuck it. My mom always said I would die with a full stomach, and dammit she’s right. It’s no secret I love a good meal.
This is where it gets good...
Ever since I saw the episode of ER where Noah Wyle pulled a live roach from a patient’s ear, the fear of suffering the same fate has lived in the back of my mind. I’ve thought of wearing earplugs at night to prevent such an occurrence, but I never do. Instead, I clean my ears several times a day. Before I could adopt such a regiment though, I had to face the challenge of choosing the proper tools.
As a kid, I was taught to clean my ears with a Q-tip and a bit of alcohol (NOT the Jack Daniels kind). I would immerse one end of a q-tip in the sanitizing liquid, then stick it in my ear and swirl it around. This accomplished two things: 1) absolutely nothing; and 2) it pissed me off. Apparently this method only served to shift the wax slightly to the right instead of just removing it altogether. After a few failed attempts with this system, the time had come to move on.
More about my bad habit...
Ill-fitting garments are nothing new. We’ve all been somewhere, either alone or with a friend, and have witnessed it: a poor soul wearing a shirt or pants several sizes outside their neighborhood. We might gawk, politely look away, or pull out our camera in an attempt to snap a photo (or is that just me?). Now I’m not trying to talk about anybody, but…. DAMN. What is the problem? Do their homes lack mirrors? Are their friends or loved ones too chicken shit to tell them how they really look? When (or IF for that matter) they look in the mirror, who exactly are they seeing?
This has to stop. People need to realize when an outfit is just not working.
More about the severely unflattering...
Every now and then I mention my mom. Sometimes I speak of her in comments on other blogs or sometimes in the posts written here. You all know we were close, so close I considered her my best friend. I know when someone is dead, you should probably start referring to them in the past tense, but I forget a lot of the time. It’s weird to refer to her like that, you know? She was my mom. I swear, sometimes I feel like she’s on vacation somewhere and will be back as soon as she can. Whenever something insanely funny happens, I often think: Damn, mom would think this is hilarious. I should call her… And of course right after that is: “Fuck, I’m broke. I wish mom were still here, she’d loan us some dough…
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