Dispatcher: 9-1-1 What’s the nature of your emergency?
Caller: My wife is pregnant and her contractions are only two minutes apart.
Dispatcher: Is this her first child?
Caller: No, you idiot! This is her husband!
“Do I look Fat” responses:
“Not to Stevie Wonder.”
“Big time! That’s why I’m sleeping with your best friend.”
“No way! You look *least* fat in that outfit!”
“I guess there’s not much point in asking if you mean fat with an ‘f’ or phat with a ‘ph.'”
“No hablo ingles.”
“Yes, but it also makes you look like a pricey hooker, so things balance out.”
“No, but taking it *off* sure does.”
“Okay, listen: What’s important is that you not focus in a negative way on the comparison I am about to make.”
“Not if you were travelling at the speed of light.”
“Yes, but in my country obesity suggests prosperity.”
“Let me jog around to your front and take a look.”
“Whoa! A talking couch!!”
“May I consult the Iraqi Minister of Information before answering that?”
Darth Tater
trying times
I’m trying, I really am.
I’m trying to let things go. I’m trying to take care of things.
I’m trying not to take everything too seriously. I’m trying to enjoy the gifts life has handed me. I’m trying not to look around and see everything covered in shit.
I’m trying not to wallow in my own freakish little hell that I’ve made for myself.
I’m trying to lighten up. Hard to tell, isn’t it?
I’m trying. Really.