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?