Shall We Dance is the kind of movie that features advice like, “Just be alive!” and “Breathe!”
Quit asking me “When is Josh moving to Knoxville?”
Even though I specifically told the Balloon Lady at my son’s birthday party “No hat,” she made me a damn hat anyway. The biggest damn hat at the party.
Was it just me, or was the first half of The Incredibles really dull?
I like that my favorite network TV show, 24, has become The Torture Show. This season, at least six people have been worked over, half of those sanctioned by the government.
I rented Sideways, and it had better be fucking good.
I’m sad that the emotionally-challenged Chris was finally fired from The Apprentice last week. I like the astonished reactions of the applicants who got fired instead of Chris. They have the same face as when LaDonna tells her husband, St. James, “Those monkeys ate your balls, baby.”
“I had a real, real tough headache, and you know what my doctor said? Take Bayer.” No fucking kidding. Aspirin? I’d fire my doctor.
I purchased an entire case of Budweiser beer for my son’s birthday party, and the only people who had a bottle were me and Josh. Come on. King of Beers.
Do you think when somebody is getting tortured on 24, Rumsfield and Bush are saying, “See? Now I know you’re a red-hot pincer guy, Rummy, but I’d recommend a rubber hose here.”
I wish that the entire Boston Red Sox line-up, plus the journalists that report for the team, wind up in a room with Richards from 24.
Speaking of Richards, I never get to see him work. He carries around a case full of oddly colored chemicals and syringes, which is cool, but if I’m being held (unconstitutionally) by CTU, and some guy produces a chrome case of chemicals rather than, say a rusty toolbox of pliers, then I’m thinking, “You ain’t never gonna make me fucking talk, suckers.”
The agent representing the people buying our house flipped out on Meghan because we edited the contract so that the sale actually made us a profit. How dare us!