if you are playing soccer and you’re playing against a team called the terrorists. If you don’t score more points then the terrorists, then the terrorists have won.
Here is a tip for the holidays. Eat dinner in front of a mirror so you don’t have to eat alone.
i like when typos make a text message way more interesting. i asked my friend how his night was going, and he texted back “boing, i’m at my parents house watching their dogs.” boing is like the opposite of boring.
Lets play 20 questions. I’ll ask all the questions though. You guys can follow along. Is it a person. No
Is it a place. No
Is it a thing. Yes.
Do most turtles have one of these? No.
Is it something you can eat? No.
okay so its definitely not corn, or a small rock to climb on…
is it bigger then a bread box? No.
is it smalleth then a bread box? No.
is it a breadbox? Yes.
Lesson learned: Always ask if it’s a bread box. Don’t be a chump.
i live by the philosophy of “ask for forgiveness, not for permission.” because technically you can’t ask god for permission. how would he answer? would it just get kind of windy? would you have to change your voice to be a little deeper and just do your own impression of gods voice and say something like “yes it would be okay if you ate the rest of sarah’s macaroni.” yeah it’s definitely just best to eat the macaroni and be like, please forgive me. because if you ask and she says no… and THEN you eat it… well then you’re a dick. basically what i’m saying, is sarah, if you’re reading, this, i ate the rest of the macaroni. and it wasn’t even that good. god said it was okay.
i think exercising at the gym would be more fun if you got prize tickets from the machines. The really fit people could walk around carrying strings of 30 tickets all stuck together, being all cocky and showing off. And the fatties would have to bundle up the little strings of 2 or 3 tickets, and maybe even have to keep them in a cup or something so they didn’t get lost. the prizes would be motivational posters with sayings like “Pretend like your face isn’t made out of cheeseburgers!” “We can all be bulimiawesome without being bulimic!” “Cake can’t hug you back!” and “Pretend you’re getting chased by an unattractive rapist!” (to be placed in front of a treadmill.)
i like to think of my life as being a movie, that i’m the main character in. And i get an ego about it too. when i’m at the bank i’ll look around and be like, “aren’t you guys excited that you get to be in my movie? this is the bank scene you guys! i feel like everybody’s life is their own movie, which can be kind of cool. but i get kind of pissed off sometimes, when i’m sitting on the bus overhearing a boring conversation between two hipster girls talking about their cat, when i realize, “oh man, i can’t believe i’m playing an extra in their shitty movie. i probably won’t even make it into the credits.” and i have to decide whether i want to interact with them so that i can at least be mentioned in the credits as “crazy punching lady on the bus” at the end of their movie or something.