Until your old shitty body says it is. This makes me so sad about getting older:
“Oh I’m sorry dick and bladder, I figured we were done peeing when you completely stopped peeing and let me zip up my cool new summer shorts and walk back to the living room. But then you were all like, “Oh wait! One more teaspoon!” Who pees their pants? Men do. Because as any good man can tell you, “Please someone kill me now I thought it would be better than this.” Anyway, sure you’re having a fun night not pissing yourself. Congrats, Cocktongue Baby. PS that was a U2 joke which makes me even sadder.”
Thumbs up for incontinence!
Not sure what the moral is here, or what he means at all, but I like it…
“Don’t worry, man. Life gets a lot easier. At some point you realize that the tough looking dude in the leather jacket is listening to Gloria Estefan on his iPod. Know what I mean?”
Damn Gloria Estefan was hot as hell!
Just try this:
“A great way to determine if you’re old or not is whether you need to briefly sit on the arm of a couch after a fart to determine if you’ve shit your pants or not. If you do, you’re old.”
This was made much trickier by the advent of “swaggin.”
Something that apparently comes quicker than you’d imagine…
“Last night I walked down to the ocean, which is something I like to do to remind myself how scary it might be to toss myself against the unforgiving waves one night, knowing that I’d be smashed to bits and this whole charade would finally be over with, and anyway there were some teenagers there, smoking weed, as teens are wont (look it up) to do, and as soon as I arrived they got all weird and put their joint out. I was slurring at this point, because it was 2AM and if you talk to me at 2AM I’m either slurrin’ or blurrin’, my friend. Anyway, these motherfuckers looked at me like I was a fuckin’ cop, and I wasn’t able to satisfy them that I wasn’t when I yelled, “I’m not a funky cock!” over and over again. I tried everything. I pulled my dick out, I slapped BOTH the women in the group, and I poured a bag of mushrooms into the sea (retail value: $60). Still, they walked away. Point is, if you have a chance to do heroin and die heroically this semester, take it. Even the coolest 31 year olds get treated like a pound of monkey shit at a Mandarin Funeral, ya know?”
No idea what this is, but if you type “a pound of monkey shit at a Mandarin Funeral” it’s the first thing that comes up.
Summary: It sucks…
“Just sneezed at my desk and pulled my groin. Why did I sneeze? Barbara’s new perfume. Why did I pull my groin? Because my once virile, beautiful body has become a wasteland of weak muscle tissue and strong regrets. I’m a piece of shit. So again I urge you– Take some mescaline, listen to R Kelly’s song “I Believe I Can Fly” and jump off your frat house roof next semester.”
Someone made this. Think about that for a second.
It’s a good thing in his book…
“I’ve been called by three different people in the past 48 hours and accused of killing Junior Seau. You know you’ve lived a good life when people randomly accuse you of committing the nation’s latest atrocity. Shoot for the stars, kiddo.”
He sent this photo as evidence of California’s sadness and support:
Doctors confirmed today it was a suicide so he’s in the clear.
And sadness. He sent this yesterday afternoon but I was TRYING TO STUDY…
“Thanks for nothing, 13 year-old kid riding his skateboard with a full arm cast on. I was feeling pretty great about myself until you ollied your way into my sad old World, happy as a clam with your cool t-shirt and ripped shorts. And a toothpick in your mouth??!?!?!?! Be careful kid! Anyway, you’ve made me feel like shit, so now my only recourse is to go home and do stuff you can’t do, like pay bills online, ice my sore ankles and type weird things into porn search engines until I feel better. I hope the slurpee you bought sucked.”