Given the choice between two theories, always opt for the funnier one.
The uselessness of car headlight wipers where it doesn’t snow; whether Jared gets laid for making all of those Subway commercials; why people didn’t realize that a volcano called “Eyjafjallajökull” was predestined to create a shit storm; the mysterious rise of bands like the Jonas Brothers; how Q-tips are the jewel in the crown of human achievement; and that Greek dude Clitoris that all of the ladies keep talking about.
Whether they’ve been thumbing through too many copies of The Believer, or they’ve suffered minor brain damage from falling off their fixies, one thing is for sure: they’d be able to stare vacantly at their Ritual coffee cups if only their Buddy Holly glasses could cut through those tufts of ironic hair.
“Humor” is a reward for finding inconsistencies in our thinking. The Republican candidates are coming up painfully short in this department.
I admit that I seek out confirming evidence for my desired weekend outcomes. I scope multiple weather websites until one tells me it’s going to be a gorgeous weekend. Thank you, Weather Channel. Shame on you, SFGate: you’re wrong.
I wonder if Mexicans in the 80s were offended by the tanface minstrel of “The Three Amigos”.
So hot she makes fanny packs cool.
When people slip on slick metal grates, they almost always pivot and throw an accusatory glare at the ground.
Getting a Ph.D seems like swallowing the ocean and pissing into a cup.
Give it up Santorum: your entertaining antics will be missed like a middle finger.
“Jocelyn, you have such unique syntax and an idiosyncratic vocabulary. Are you sure you’re not Canadian?”
