Wednesday, January 30, 2008

New Potluck

New potluck jokes...

I’m getting old. I know I’m old because now I use my roach clip to pull whiskers out of my chin.

The LA City Council just banned the N word. Seriously. It is against the law to use the N word. But, only within 5 feet of a building.

I used to be obsessed with this website of a prison in Texas that listed death-row prisoners’ crimes and their last meal requests. I was fascinated by the horrible things these men had done and what they liked to eat. I thought maybe I could find a pattern. But, alas, there was never a fried chicken/child murder correlation.

I just went to the Helen, GA, and it is just like Big Bear and every other quaint little mountain tourist trap. Who decided that mountains + candle shops + fudge + Swiss chalet shaped hotels = fun? Just add tubing and you’ve got yourself a vacation!

I bet when we were Cavemen, there was a dude with a sign that read “The end is near.”

One night my husband and I were watching the Hip Hop awards and he looked at me and said, “Bitch you better watch yo ass.” I said, “What the fuck did you just say to me?” He goes, “Oh, sorry, I’ve been watching too much BET.”

I just read the new Steve Martin book “Born Standing Up”. He took his father to see “The Jerk” and afterward someone asked his father what he thought of it and he said, “Well, he’s no Charlie Chaplin.” Damn. Who the fuck do you have to be before your parents recognize that you are someone? I bet Charlie Chaplin’s dad said, “Well, he’s no Fattie Arbuckle.” My mama said to me, “You’re no Steve Martin.” Where does that leave me? Oh to be Fattie Arbuckle!

Everytime I buy pot, I buy $240 worth. Now when I go to the ATM, it says “do you want your usual $240?” Fuck. They are keeping track of my pot purchases. The ATM machine is a narc!

Last night I was watching that show “Intervention” where they follow around addicts and videotape their family’s intervention. And they had an intervention for a fat guy! Seriously. Can you imagine you come home one day and your friends and family are gathered around to tell you that you are a fatass…and they taped it…and showed it on TV! “John, we are really concerned about your pizza consumption.” You’d be like, “Billy is on crack! You said this was an intervention for him. And you said there’d be pizza!” That’s why whenever I walk into a room and see more than 3 people I know gathered, I turn around and walk the fuck out.

I was talking to the guy at the coffee house trying to figure out the difference between a medium and a large. He said, “8 oz.” I don’t know 8 oz. I can’t visualize 8 oz. I know how many 1/8s in a quarter and how many ¼ s are in an ounce. I don’t know kilos though. I could never do a drug that made you learn the metric system.

I used to know this guy named Gary. I would say, “How was your day Gary?” He’d say, “You’ll never believe what stupid thing Homer said today.” I was intrigued until I realized he was talking about The Simpsons. He would talk about TV characters like they were people. He said, “Oh my God, Darhma was at the store with Greg’s mom, and you know how she’s so snotty and bitchy…” We were gossiping about sitcoms. And not very good ones. Don’t you know any real people we can talk shit about?

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