One Can Only Dream...

Because I think it would be hilarious to find a baby in one of those newspaper boxes. We constantly forget all kinds of things. Today, I left my keys inside a sandwich toaster. Please don't ask me how or why this happened. What's important to note is that when we forget things, they are usually things of import, yet, no one seems to forget babies in newspaper boxes. And of course, that begs the question, "what would I do if I were ever to find a baby in one those boxes?" Well, that's easy, I'd put said baby to work. Think of all the grant writing that baby could do for you- all the freelance gigs and part-time jobs it could take on your behalf, while you sit back all day sipping Margaritas and playing Wii Golf. It would be boss.

 (Insert baby here.)

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Because American Idol makes me want go into a coma. Also, can someone tell me what makes Paula Abdul a qualified judge? There was a term I heard somewhere, I think it was "ass-clown." I think that's a suitable adjective right now.

Wouldn't it be grand if some random contestant just so happened to have a machine gun in his larynx, so that every time he hit a high note a swarm of friendly bullets would riddle the judges? It really is the least we could ask for.

 

(A grand finale to Celine Dion's "My Heart Will Go On"? Pure magic.)

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Seatbelts and Steakshakes!

Because some times I might be crazy enough to wear a seatbelt. Gasp. Where I come from, wearing a seat belt means you're a big pussy. I guess the rationale is that if you wear a sealbelt, you fear death which, I guess, makes you a pussy. But dying isn't the only thing that can happen in a car accident. I'd just like to avoid surviving one and performing the "Bohemian Rhapsody" on karaoke-night in a Stephen Hawking falsetto or having to sip Steak and Cheese subs through a straw for the rest of my life.

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Ten People Who Need To Shut The Fuck Up

 1. Bill O'Reilly  
(A Witch Trial Persecutor lost in time)

2. Eckhart Tolle  
(the only thing that needs transcending is your bullshit)
 

  3. Dr. Phil  
(nobody likes you)

 4. Larry the Cable Guy  
(nobody  understands you)

 5. Al Sharpton  
(he could find a racial implication in a sandwich)

6. Fergie  
(we get it, you're well-endowed. just stop, please)

7. That girl from the Progressive commercials  
(you're not witty)

8. Mick Jagger 
 (it's over man, let it go)

9. John McCain  
(are you even human?)

10.  That dude from the FreeCreditReport commercials  

(Because sometimes I want to club his face with Mac Truck.)

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Just Minding Your Biznaz...

Because women and old people make me nervous when I just happen to walk behind them. See, the thing is, I'm a person of color and I wear hoods when it's cold. Pretty normal, right? Except it makes me look like the Grim Reaper or, even worse, DMX. And so, I guess maybe hispanic + hoodie = rapist?

(Imagine: it's 9pm and you're making your way to 7/11, when an old broad exits her home, walking in the same direction just about 15 feet ahead of you. You could see her glancing at you through the corner of her eye and for some reason you are conveniently the only ones on this street. So you start to feel strange as if you were up to something, even though you're just on a quest for some delicious Hoho's.

Meanwhile, you're gaining on her because your legs are longer and she's clutching her purse as O.J. Simpson seems to be getting closer and is basically breathing down her neck. You're feeling like you're actually committing a crime because you can literally see the fear emanating from her old lady wig but all you really want to do is walk by her. So you walk faster and she shrinks into herself even more, literally fusing her purse to her stomach. You finally walk by. She sighs. You sigh.)

You see, the thing is that when this happens, you're the one that's scared. When you're walking by someone who's afraid of you, anything could happen. A scared grandpa or co-ed will not hesitate to stab you in the eye with the nearest key or Magnalite out of fear of being mugged when all you want to ravage is a Hoho.


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I like dog.

Because some dogs get better therapy and better manicures than I do. This depresses me to no end. There's little more revolting than a Best-In-Show Competition. A grooming session for one of those dogs is double my rent.

My sister yells at me whenever I call her chihuahua a diseased possum. This is a dog that acts not unlike a high-power administrative assistant, minus (or not) the peeing routine whenever you approach her. I was once told not to call a particular dog 'ugly' because I might scar it psychologically. Seriously? I suddenly wanted to scar this personal, physically.

 

I just don't understand this whole dog culture thing. They are DOGS. Just dogs. And no, it doesn't mean I go around kicking Golden Retrievers in the head or mixing motor oil in their Alpo. I love dogs. I'm just not going to spend a year's salary training it to solve complex mathematics or perform lobotomies and you shouldn't either. Dog competitions are the essence of useless. It would make sense if after the competition, the dogs were broiled and eaten by the audience. All that high-maintenance would indeed pay off if we could all enjoy a succulent Pug head on a skewer. Don't get me wrong, I don't wish Pugs any harm. If anything they seem like the sweetest of dogs- which is why I would probably eat one. I don't mean this in a bad way. My intentions are heavenly and delicious.


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A Tip About Tipping

Because when I order a coffee I make extra noise to make sure the cashier knows I gave her a tip. Otherwise, it's like you never gave one. It could be your most generous day. Maybe you got a raise or maybe you got paid this time for sucking off your boss in the bathroom stall- who knows.

But even if you decide to give that cute server a 20 dollar tip, she's not going to know you left one if she can't hear it while she's making your latte. Maybe you walk away from the counter too soon and because she thinks you're a cheapskate she does you the service of spitting in your drink and/or leaves a floating pube for you to hack a lung on- who knows.

Suddenly that $3.25 latte costs $17.00 dollars extra and all you got out of it was a mild case of herpes from both your boss and the server. So go ahead, make a scandal, tip over the Josh Groban CD display, kick the register over, make it sound like World War III! You have a mission and that's to have your tip acknowledged. When all else fails, just announce the tip: "I am inserting 2 dollar bill into your tip jar, ma'am. Observe." Trust me, it'll save you a walnut-sized sore on your lip.

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Whoop, there it is!

Because I think Whoopi Goldberg is, in fact, attractive. Sure, she has no eyebrows, but seriously, how many women actually do. Most woman pluck more hair from their eyebrows over the course of a year than barbers see in a decade. Okay, so maybe that's a slight exaggeration but I think it's still a relevant point. Plus, since when do eyebrows really fucking matter, anyway?! It's better to have no eyebrows than no nipples. You nipple-less ladies know who you are!

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