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And by “not as excited,” I mean to say that when I showed up at her doorstep to deliver the good news in person, she broke up with me.
Nice!
All I ask is that you pick up your shit so you don’t leave your bedroom looking like it was used for a gang bang,”
the more grateful I started to feel for the mixture of honesty and insanity that characterized his comments and personality.
kindergarten is busting your ass, I got some bad news for you about the rest of life.”
I don’t want one of these guys walking up to you and you’re drawing two dogs fucking or something. I gotta be professional here.”
“Who’s going to take care of it? You?…Son, you came in the house yesterday with shit on your hands. Human shit. I don’t know how that happened, but if someone has shit on their hands, it’s an indicator that maybe the whole responsibility thing isn’t for them.”
“When it’s asshole-tightening time, that’s when you see what people are made of. Or at least what their asshole is made of.”
“It’s Little League. You’re all terrible for the most part, and that’s okay.
He looked like someone Popeye would fight while on shore leave.
“Oh spare me, being stuck in your bedroom is not like prison. You don’t have to worry about being gang-raped in your bedroom.”
“There’s a hop in your step now,” he said. “You look like you just finished taking a shit all the time.”
“Jesus, open a window, it smells like death shit in here,” he added.
“Just tell me how much money I have to give you to never leave this couch.”
Classic
Ruth’s Chris Steak House.
Where you take people that put ketchup on steak
that festival was like sitting through a three-hour prostate exam.”
in my opinion, was the Kansas City Royals of steak houses. Yes, it technically qualifies as a franchise, but it’s not worth getting excited about.
“If it’s not bourbon or sweatpants, it’s going in the garbage…. No, don’t get creative. Now is not a creative time. Now is a bourbon and sweatpants time.”
“Why? Please don’t harass my doctor.” “Give me a fucking break. I’m not a maniac.”
LOL!
“Pick your furniture like you pick a wife; it should make you feel comfortable and look nice, but not so nice that if someone walks past it they want to steal it.”
My dad gave me similar advice:)
As usual, my dad went into full flirting mode.
This guys sounds a lot like my dad.
“Sometimes life leaves a hundred-dollar bill on your dresser, and you don’t realize until later it’s because it fucked you.”
