He shaved his beard, and it warranted a multitude of talk…
“Decided to shave my beard tonight because I noticed it’s starting to get cool in society. Mixed results. Thought about suicide. Decided against it. A tip: If you’re planning on growing a beard and getting fat under it, get back in shape before you shave it off. I just got super stoned, shaved my beard off, realized I was fat and then played a game around my apartment with the mirrors called “Fat Gay Demon” where I pretended to get scared every time I saw myself.”
You’ll have to do this:
“When you’re awesome, you have to understand that not everyone is going to “get” you or “accept” the way you do things, or “not call the cops all the time” on you. For instance, an ex-girlfriend of mine just sent me a scathing email because she somehow found out that I buried a digital scale in her yard and was tracking her weight while we dated. She totally didn’t get it, thought I was “psycho” and “unstable” and other things boring people say about rad people. First off, what are you doing digging around your yard, lady? Secondly, click! I know you can’t hang up on an email but I literally wrote “Click” back to her. Seacrest out!”
Did you know that Adam Sandler is made of paint?
Often a topic of his wandering mind…
“I was at the DMV today where I shockingly was not involved in a screaming match with a fat black woman, but I did come across something that irked me. Why is it that all tough guys are such fucking pussies when it comes down to it? Wrestlers and boxers are as weight-obsessed as anorexic blonde chicks, Gangbangers are so focused on one color in particular that they match their entire wardrobe, and it appears that every single person who’s ever even trained in Mixed Martial Arts has started their own clothing company with a name like “Renegade” or “SmashFace” or “DickSqueezer.” Why are all these so called tough guys so enamored with their weight and clothes? I’ve never given a shit what I wear or what I weigh, and I’m tougher than a driving test for an Asian. Get a grip, guys.”
“You guys got your red shirts on? Okay, everyone get in there. Now smile and say “prison!””
And then drink. From yesterday…
“My asshole buddy just asked me why we were having a beer before we went to the gym. Why? Because NEVER. STOP. DRINKING. Also gyms are creepy as shit and if I don’t have four IPA’s first I’ll accidentally look someone in the eyes.”
Another reason to try yoga.
and cheer them up whichever way you know best…
“Gave myself an early bday present last night and banged an old woman like a judge’s gavel. Met her in a strip mall parking lot. She’d just lost in the finals of a Jazzercise tournament and was super bummed, so I spat some A Level Game and we were bumping wrinklies in less than an hour. She said I was the “Bee’s Knees” and I’m not hip to old people slang but I think she meant her knees stung from the carpet burns. AM I RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGHT??????”
The idea of not being “hip to old people slang” is funny to me.
Hot as fuck.
At this point what else can we call these types of emails?
“This day is just bonkers. Everyone at lunch was complaining about the War on the Recession and the AIDS crisis in North Dakota and the President’s taco addiction again, and I’d just had enough. I stripped off my pants, pulled my dick out and put it in my mashed potatoes. “Serves ’em right!” I yelled, not knowing who I was yelling about exactly. But here’s why I didn’t get fired: I had my fingers crossed behind my back. BOOM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Works every time. And guess who I saw eating the leftover mashed potatoes later? Yep! The office dog Franklin.”
Sure it wasn't the office turtle?