Fucking hate paper cuts. They’re the absolute worst. I was cleaning out the house again and came across some old papers. Over the course of thumbing through them for any old embarrassing writing, I acquired more than my fair share of the bastards and boy, do they smart!
Always boggles my mind though, how something so innocuous like a sheet of printer paper – in the right time, in the right circumstances – can cause such a shock of pain. Really makes you think. Then scream. Then curse. Or just scream curses.
Also, looking at the wound after always gives me the shivers and they seem to take the longest time to heal over so that the next couple days, you feel unpleasant jolts whenever you disturb that particular area of your skin. I think I can say without hyperbole or exaggeration that paper cuts are pretty much the worst pain a person can endure, physically and mentally.
So here we are again, at the end of another week, and you’re spending it, in part, with me. Sucks to be you, for real. This week, Y-to-the-O-to-the-M-to-the-Y-to-the-O-to-the-M-again-but-with-an-F-this-time cooks up some blogs about men behind men; making women love you; and the relationship between inner drive and Frosted Flakes. Tastes good to me!
OUTDOORS WHILE ASIAN- WAG BAGS:
“I didn’t need a WAG bag! I was toilet free! Until that tell-tale fart. That fart that stinks of salami and large intestine. The fart that says, “If you push out another fart, it will be solid.””
And that’s why I love plumbing.
Something about the color and texture of that photo makes it not so much funny as much as it is reminiscent of the “Dumplings” episode of Three Extremes.
If you haven’t done so, watch it now. With a full stomach.
“But, as I watch [Sylvester Stallone], I can’t help but lapse into remembering what it was like to actually feel the burnished strength of his arms as he manhandled me through the stultifying heat of the jungle.”
In the manliest way possible, I’d like to say that I want to be cradled in Sly’s arms.
Actually, wait, there’s probably no manly way to say that.
BUT IT’S THE TRUTH.
HOWARD THE DUCK: THE MASTER OF QUACK FU!:
“The issue (titled “Four Feathers of Death or: Enter the Duck”) opens as a disturbed Howard and his gal pal Beverly walk out of a martial arts film into the Cleveland night.”
The first thing that made me think of was that that duck was sleeping with that human woman. Is that weird? Is something wrong with me? I probably just need more sex.
With women.
Not ducks.
If Roger had used this title instead of Sung, it wouldn’t have been about admiration for Daniel Dae Kim.
Correct me if I’m wrong.
PALIN/O’DONNELL: THE DREAM TICKET:
“[Sarah Palin] said her husband Todd joked that if she showed up in Iowa wearing running shoes, Vanity Fair magazine would run a story with a headline like, “Palin In Iowa Decides to Run.” Yeah, I know, it wasn’t that funny, but I’m not here to critique Ms. Palin’s comedy stylings.”
I am though: that was fucking lame.
“How I planned my life and how my life is really playing out are two totally different movies.”
It’s not exact exact, but Roger totally reminded me of Sliding Doors then and there. I wonder what his hairstyle would have been in his alternate universe…
I’m not gonna post a joke picture; I actually want to know.
HOW TO MAKE A WOMAN FALL FOR YOU:
“2. Be Willing to Die for your Love
Dying is the most romantic gesture a man can make for his love. Just take a look at “Titanic” or any production of “Romeo and Juliet”. The act of dying will surely win any woman over. Sorry you won’t be around to see the results, though.”
I’ll consider it if you can guarantee that I’ll at least get me some action right before. I’ll even accept it if it’s in a cramped old car.
DAVID ISHIMA: SPIDER-WOMAN’S JAPANESE AMERICAN BOYFRIEND:
“David was Jessica’s new landlord and though he did have some stereotypical traits (like caring for bonsai tress and making sashimi)[...]“
…but I thought those skills were genetic? It’s like second nature to me, and I’m not even Japanese. Although I was once bitten by a Japanese woman…
“So the next time you see someone (like me) on the streets eating dried clams… don’t be grossed out… ask to try one and see!”
Knowing LA, if I asked a random person to try their food, they’d probably punch me or ignore me.
Not because I was a stranger, but because I’m me.
JEROME & INCEPTION: POLYESTER PLOT HOLES – THE FIRST.:
My dad read that and came up to me out of nowhere and said he was proud of me. Any time someone says they’re proud of me, I have only one reaction:
JURISDICTION (1) UNDER (2) GOD (3):
“So: no money, no sex, no backtalk. It’s enough to make any man snap. The first two vows [of the Jesuits] thwart the things which drive 99% of all human activity, and the third asks you not to be grouchy about it.”
If it wasn’t for my incessant backtalking, I might as well be a Jesuit now.
OF TORNADOES, PSYCHOANALYSTS AND FROSTED FLAKES:
“I’m fascinated by people who are born with their calling stamped on their forehead. It’d be like going down the cereal aisle at the supermarket and knowing, with absolute and total certainty, you were gonna get Frosted Flakes.”
Why does it have to be Frosted Flakes, Alfredo? Why can’t it be Cinnamon Toast Crunch, huh? THAS RACIST.
This week column over now. Had to find new way say that it over. This it. Hope you like. Just don’t want repeat self week after week; this risk I take. Me go now but you have good end of week!
afro. like the one you used to sport. just bigger…
@roger
i’ll never be able to live that down
Funny post, as always. That face that Cobb makes applies to a lot of daily interactions, doesn’t it?