Remember a time when everyone in America just seemed to have steak in their refrigerators, and they would put it on someone’s eye if they had a black eye? You don’t see that much anymore.
I’m actually pretty sad. My therapist died a couple days ago and I have no one to talk to about it. When I get really sad like this, I find solace in just thinking that my wife probably won’t be born for another 30 years.
So I was thinking about how a lot of people feel shame while they masturbate. Actually, I feel like if God didn’t want us to “j that shit off,” he wouldn’t have given us small sandwich baggies filled with warm grape jelly and rubber bands.
Can I leave on a good invention I thought of? Food tape: it’s like edible adhesive tape that you can put around ice cream cones, or your sandwiches if they break, or your tacos, and it’s edible and flavorless. Oh, but there’s a slogan too: “Cause food breaks!”
I don’t trust the whole crepe craze. (First of all, there’s a crepe craze. Second of all, I don’t trust it). I don’t trust anything you can put ham or chocolate on. (That was a joke about dangling prepositions!)
I just found out that McDonalds tortures their chickens; they boil them alive and slit their throats or something, and all sorts of crazy shit. But when I found this out I couldn’t believe it: that they use chicken in chicken nuggets, because I’ve never seen part of a chicken that is shaped naturally like a boot or an oval.
If there’s three people sitting in the back seat of a car or something… Say I’m in the middle, and Huell and Michael are on either side of me, and people go: “Hey that’s a Huell and Michael sandwich!” But no, cause you don’t identify a sandwich by its bread. You don’t say it’s a white-bread sandwich.
Harris Wittels