Wednesday, July 29, 2009

The Art of Faking Friendships with Farting Foes

you know, there are no super heroes that turn into hippos.

i find it hard to believe that there are that many messy painters in the world. there must be a clothing line.

am i to assume you're unassuming?

i'm over people with faux eating disorders.

if you want to feel good about yourself, step on the scale after you take a gigantic poop.

our relationship has been nothing more than horrible photos and 50% off love.

sir, if my penis were that small, i certainly would not be showing it around manhattan.

i choose not to acknowledge my left pinkie toe.

it's a personal decision. it usually is.

i tried to paint my nails with red nail polish. now it looks like I have been finger painting in blood.

i fail as a girl.

this week in jenna theatre. the scene - a large empty room in a temple. the players - only jenna and an older gentleman. the incident - a loud fart. the question - who did it?

i met a girl tonight who wears a size 10 shoe. i know what they say about men and shoe size, but what do they say about women?

most people loose iq points when they drink. not me, i start speaking like like einstein and nietzsche's fucking scrabble board.

it's serendipitous.

put that in your pipe and smoke it.

when i see someone talking to a crazy person, i think to myself, what is that he's doing, doesn't he know that person is crazy?

i'll say this for them, there are a shit-load of port-o-potties.

i always thought i'd marry to keep someone in the country.

my ID, already?

i often have the words to say, i don't have the words.

cutting your toenails at work is disgusting. i don't create excel spreadsheets in your bedroom, now do i?

i find it confusing when i see people carrying huge dictionaries around. does anyone really have a need for that many words, that quickly? there has to be a better way, or a smaller size.

some people have sex phone voices. the guy behind me sounds like a cross between kathleen turner and harvey firestein and the combo is making his conversation about surgery and blood work, sound like a dirty proposition.

books smell like home. unless somebody pukes on them. then they just smell like puke.

i offered to help an old man carry his 3 large suitcases down and then up some stairs. he said "i bet you'd like that, wouldn't you."

i love wife beaters.

the tank top. not the criminal.

it is amazing how many things sound like euphemisms for poop.

Wednesday, July 22, 2009

The Art of Breaking Bread with British Boys

if you're going to go through the trouble to get fake eye lashes, lip injections, and get your hair all done up, you might as well wear a bra.

i realized i walk around with a small smile on my face. i am not sure why i do this.

i'm too old for this shit.

stop reading what i am writing over my shoulder. yes, i am talking to you.

if laughter is the best medicine then why don't doctors give people laughing gas?

maybe it's bad karma, but i could watch people try to parallel park all day.

i can't be friends with people who have never eaten chocolate pudding.

i almost kicked a rat.

i hate when i can't tell if a man has one arm or not. i suppose it doesn't matter, i just like to know either way.

was that your stomach growling, or are you just that excited to see me?

i hate how one person can ruin your day.

this week in jenna theatre –
while working the front desk – the phone rings
me - hello (insert typical greeting)
gf - hello this is george fullultman calling for *name has been removed to protect identity*
me - I'm sorry, he's not in today, may I take a message?
gf - sure tell him george fullultman is calling. that's g as in...uh...
me - g as in george?
gf – yes, g as in george, e as in…oh…

honestly, people!

this morning i fell down some urine soaked stairs. little did i know this would be an indication of how my day would ultimately go.

don't you hate it when years of loyalty is repaid by a kick in the shins?

i hate when people are passive aggressive. can't we all just be aggressive?

if karma and payback get to be a bitch, why can't i be one too?

there's nothing wrong with her that a high limit credit card can't fix.

i feel like michael jackson today.

i realize i swear an exorbitant amount. especially when exercising.

why couldn't i have gotten the tall, skinny polish super model genes?

boys and girls, i think i have given birth to a new ab and ass muscle. hello little ones, i hope you will be happy here.

with great responsibility, comes great responsibility.

things that are green taste better than things that are brown. please see m&m's for further understanding.

sometimes you're the egg, and sometimes you're the chicken.

i see your lips moving, but i don't believe a word that's coming out.

lying is like eating crackers in bed. there is always something there to remind you.

at the end of the day, i am a really nice person, i like to think. but if you don't stop reading over my god damn shoulder, i might be forced to kick you were you would really rather not be kicked.

sometimes you're the pole, sometimes you're the pole dancer, and sometimes, you're just fucked.

have no fear, though, i will still be here, i promise.

this is by far one of the scariest things i have ever seen...

Wednesday, July 15, 2009

The Art of Catching the Paranoid Purple People Eater

have you ever noticed how some people appear to have entire conversations with themselves using only their eyes?

i'd like to be able to say i have accomplished something more than popping the perfect bag of popcorn.

the day is moving at a glacier-like speed. and i don't mean one of those “ice-caps are melting” glaciers either.

i am too easily persuaded by beer.

i am too easily persuaded while drinking beer.

i am freakin' chicken little at work today. my damn ceiling is falling around my head. i was the only one who noticed it.

once again, my thumb nail has broken, proving how damn annoying life can be without it.

honey, just looking at you i see 3 major health code violations.

i feel uncomfortable when i run into someone that i have seen puking all over themselves.

i think my kitchen is trying to poison me.

i'm not paranoid, i'm just really sure that someone is out to get me.

bumper stickers are like lockers, you should be done with them by high school.

it would seem to me, based on the concept of medication, that you could take pills that have fallen on the ground and not worry about the possibility of germs.

i looked cuter this morning.

i wish you would grow up, but i’m not holding my breath.

answer - the road crews have painted the parking spaces in the wrong direction.

question - what caused a 8 car cluster fuck this morning?

i like lower case.

your tie matches; it just makes you look like a tool.

you –jenna, will you help me move this sunday?
me – no.
you – please?
me – i think i'm coming down with something, and i’m busy, and i broke my foot.
you – i’ll give you beer.
me – ok, count me in.

expecting something from you is an exercise in futility. however, i am a futility specialist.

i don't judge you for not walking up the escalator, you lazy sack of shit.

while i am not an advocate of suddenly stopping dead in your tracks anywhere, there are definitely places you should NEVER EVER stop moving. the bottom of an escalator is just one off the top of my head.

sometimes i wear the pants and sometimes the pants wear me.

webMD has me convinced i have approximately 59 different diseases.

if i knew before i ran the marathon how hard training for a marathon would be, i’m not sure i ever would have run one.

it’s not all about the journey, even though sometimes it is all about journey.

i know the lyrics to 800,000+ songs, but i cannot remember what stop i get off on the E train.

the mind is an empty scream.

what are you looking at? is there something on my face? something between my teeth? is my fly down? are my boobs falling out? is my hair standing up? where did you put my dunkin donuts?

what the fuck is going on here?

Wednesday, July 8, 2009

The Art of Being Dark and Cynical on a Bright Sunshiny Day

sometimes i can't tell if it's raining or if people are just spitting on me.

sometimes i wonder what’s going on up there.

do beautiful people use inhalers, or do hot people just blow air into their mouths?

i hate not knowing what you think of me. i hate that i care.

you're only as happy as your last suicide attempt.

a man in the elevator at my office building, eyed me up and down, then asked if it was take your daughter to work day already.

no, it is not.

here i am, a dark cloud of cynicism.

make him buy the dress ladies, it'll never last.

if you have underwear not fit for general public viewing, might i suggest carrying your dirty laundry in a bag that is not see through? i don’t need to see anybody’s skid marks.

don't worry about me, i always make it home.

current company dress codes appear to be men: business casual, women: slut.

i hate that i have tiny legs and big dreams.

this has been a sub par effort.

remember the good old days where people were afraid to confront people because they might loose their damn minds. ahhh memories.

i actually considered looking through a dumpster this morning when i saw what appeared to be a large unwrapped candy bar.

incidentally, it was a rat.

i sweat in the shade.

virginia is for lovers. so are vaginas.

this one's for you.

i see nothing wrong with drinking before noon.

i see nothing wrong with drinking before nine.

i think somebody moved my house.

i like to read spam mail, just to check in on the evolutionary status of societies scam artists.

apparently the freakin’ united nations had a trust fund that i am a beneficiary of. who knew?

i hate when i accidentally go to work.

i don't know what's worse, loosing 20 dollars or watching the waitress spill your cocktail.

people only like you when you're down.

quitting is the cowards way of saying i like you.

i think i’m lost, but i am sure it is around here somewhere.

those who throw stones, hurt me.

aren't we all just intended victims of something?

its not that i'm cold hearted, i just hate when technology wins.

leave your cheese at the door.

there is a bit of optimism between your teeth. you might want to do something about that.

i'm just sayin’ it seems like i am always just sayin.'

there ain’t no place like home.

Wednesday, July 1, 2009

The Art of Wetting the Bed During a One Night Stand

i don't like to wax poetics on a full stomach.

i've always been afraid to settle into someone elses dream.

subway musicians fascinate me. who are they? are they failed musicians, hidden geniuses, egotistical maniacs, or just plain crazy?

some people only sing in the shower. these people sing on the streets.

that girl has an ass the size of a mid-to-large sized baby.

i never trust it when people say they are excited to see me. i always check to make sure they know who they are talking to.

i hear drums.

i sometimes worry my head is too big.

i'm like a bored lion. or giraffe.

although giraffes always look bored. maybe like a gazelle? i mean, sure you can run and look all graceful and shit, but other than that, what do you really have?

i don't believe in umbrellas, i mean sure, they exist, but to what end?

i wish I could diet and loose a shoe size.

i hate when people chew gum like a mother fucking cow. close your damn mouth. i don't need to see your spittle flying all over the damn place.

is it better to know where you stand, or to let the mystery move you along?

it is hard to be positive when you have been robbed.

there has to be a better way.

i enjoy the challenge of deciding what to eat for lunch. i am overjoyed at the one decision i get to make in a day.

i have decided to not do anything about it.

what's the difference between isolated and scattered thunder showers? in the end, aren't they kind of the same concept?

i'm sick of anorexics.

try as i might, i do not enjoy the feeling of almost dying.

sometimes people say the stupidest shit.

i want a dream lover...cuz i don't wanna dream on the phone.

the quality of my day relies completely on whether or not i get a seat on the train on my way to work.

you cannot be completely arbitrary.

if you don't know what i mean, look it up.

i have a bun in the oven. no, literally. i'm toasting some whole wheat buns for my hamburgers.

i feel betrayed by my credit card. it knows what it did.

my alarm clock wins too much. i might put it in a room with a rooster and see who comes out on top.

when life pisses you off, stop answering the phones. or when you do answer them, use a fake british accent.

give the spice rack back and tell him to fuck off.

in an effort to save money, something has to go. i'll miss you, food.

hello, vodka, dear friend.

mother nature is clearly a bipolar.

hypocrites always point their finger first.

am i even making sense this morning?

i think it's fair to say, having your head near some one's ass is never a good thing.

lesson learned.