gomopar440
Livin' my life...one gas station at a time.
New Rule: Stop giving me that pop-up ad for
Classmates.com! There's a reason you don't talk to
people for 25 years. Because you don't particularly
like them! Besides, I already know what the captain of
the football team is doing these days: mowing my lawn.
New Rule: Don't eat anything that's served to you out
a window unless you're a seagull. People are acting
all shocked that a human finger was found in a bowl of
Wendy's chili. Hey, it cost less than a dollar. What
did you expect it to contain? Trout? Luckily, it was
only a finger! If it were a whole hand, Congress would
have voted to keep it alive.
New Rule: Stop saying that teenage boys who have sex
with their hot, blonde teachers are permanently
damaged. I have a better description for these kids:
lucky bastards.
New Rule: If you need to shave and you still collect
baseball cards, you're gay. If you're a kid, the cards
are keepsakes of your idols. If you're a grown man,
they're pictures of men.
New Rule: Ladies, leave your eyebrows alone.
Here's how much men care about your eyebrows: do you
have two of them? Okay, we're done.
New Rule: There's no such thing as flavored water.
There's a whole aisle of this crap at the supermarket,
water, but without that watery taste. Sorry, but
flavored water is called a soft drink. You want
flavored water? Pour some scotch over ice and let it
melt. That's your flavored water.
New Rule: Stop fucking with old people. Target is
introducing a redesigned pill bottle that's square,
with a bigger label. And the top is now the bottom.
And by the time grandpa figures out how to open it,
his ass will be in the morgue. Congratulations,
Target, you just solved the Social Security crisis.
New Rule: The more complicated the Starbucks order,
the bigger the asshole.
If you walk into a Starbucks and order a "decaf grande
half-soy, half-low fat, iced vanilla, double-shot,
gingerbread cappuccino, extra dry, light ice, with one
Sweet-n'-Low and one NutraSweet," ooh, you're a huge
asshole.
New Rule: I'm not the cashier!
By the time I look up from sliding my card, entering
my PIN number, pressing "Enter," verifying the amount,
deciding, no, I don't want cash back, and pressing
"Enter" again, the kid who is supposed to be ringing
me up is standing there eating my Almond Joy.
Paper, plastic? I don't have time for that. I've just
been called to do a cleanup on Aisle Nine!
New Rule: Just because your tattoo has Chinese
characters in it doesn't make you spiritual.
It's right above the crack of your ass. And it
translates to "beef with broccoli." The last time you
did anything spiritual, you were praying to God you
weren't pregnant. You're not spiritual. You're just
high.
New Rule: Competitive eating isn't a sport. It's one
of the seven deadly sins.
ESPN recently televised the US Open of Competitive
Eating, because watching those athletes at the poker
table was just too damned exciting.
What's next, competitive farting? Oh wait. They're
already doing that. It's called "The Howard Stern
Show."
New Rule: I don't need a bigger mega M&M.
If I'm extra hungry for M&Ms, I'll go nuts and eat
two.
New Rule: If you're going to insist on making movies
based on crappy, old television shows, then you have
to give everyone in the Cineplex a remote so we can
see what's playing on the other screens.
Let's remember the reason something was a television
show in the first place is the idea wasn't good enough
to be a movie.
New Rule: No more gift registries.
You know, it used to be just for weddings. Now it's
for babies and new homes and graduations from rehab.
Picking up the stuff you want and having other people
buy it for you isn't gift giving, it's the white
collar version of looting.
New Rule: and this one is long overdue: No more
bathroom attendants.
After I zip up, some guy is offering me a towel and a
mint like I just had sex with George Michael. I can't
even tell if he's supposed to be there, or just some
freak with a fetish. I don't want to be on your web
cam, dude. I just want to wash my hands.
New Rule: When I ask how old your toddler is, I don't
need to know in months.
"27 Months."
"He's two," will do just fine. He's not a cheese. And
I didn't care in the first place
Classmates.com! There's a reason you don't talk to
people for 25 years. Because you don't particularly
like them! Besides, I already know what the captain of
the football team is doing these days: mowing my lawn.
New Rule: Don't eat anything that's served to you out
a window unless you're a seagull. People are acting
all shocked that a human finger was found in a bowl of
Wendy's chili. Hey, it cost less than a dollar. What
did you expect it to contain? Trout? Luckily, it was
only a finger! If it were a whole hand, Congress would
have voted to keep it alive.
New Rule: Stop saying that teenage boys who have sex
with their hot, blonde teachers are permanently
damaged. I have a better description for these kids:
lucky bastards.
New Rule: If you need to shave and you still collect
baseball cards, you're gay. If you're a kid, the cards
are keepsakes of your idols. If you're a grown man,
they're pictures of men.
New Rule: Ladies, leave your eyebrows alone.
Here's how much men care about your eyebrows: do you
have two of them? Okay, we're done.
New Rule: There's no such thing as flavored water.
There's a whole aisle of this crap at the supermarket,
water, but without that watery taste. Sorry, but
flavored water is called a soft drink. You want
flavored water? Pour some scotch over ice and let it
melt. That's your flavored water.
New Rule: Stop fucking with old people. Target is
introducing a redesigned pill bottle that's square,
with a bigger label. And the top is now the bottom.
And by the time grandpa figures out how to open it,
his ass will be in the morgue. Congratulations,
Target, you just solved the Social Security crisis.
New Rule: The more complicated the Starbucks order,
the bigger the asshole.
If you walk into a Starbucks and order a "decaf grande
half-soy, half-low fat, iced vanilla, double-shot,
gingerbread cappuccino, extra dry, light ice, with one
Sweet-n'-Low and one NutraSweet," ooh, you're a huge
asshole.
New Rule: I'm not the cashier!
By the time I look up from sliding my card, entering
my PIN number, pressing "Enter," verifying the amount,
deciding, no, I don't want cash back, and pressing
"Enter" again, the kid who is supposed to be ringing
me up is standing there eating my Almond Joy.
Paper, plastic? I don't have time for that. I've just
been called to do a cleanup on Aisle Nine!
New Rule: Just because your tattoo has Chinese
characters in it doesn't make you spiritual.
It's right above the crack of your ass. And it
translates to "beef with broccoli." The last time you
did anything spiritual, you were praying to God you
weren't pregnant. You're not spiritual. You're just
high.
New Rule: Competitive eating isn't a sport. It's one
of the seven deadly sins.
ESPN recently televised the US Open of Competitive
Eating, because watching those athletes at the poker
table was just too damned exciting.
What's next, competitive farting? Oh wait. They're
already doing that. It's called "The Howard Stern
Show."
New Rule: I don't need a bigger mega M&M.
If I'm extra hungry for M&Ms, I'll go nuts and eat
two.
New Rule: If you're going to insist on making movies
based on crappy, old television shows, then you have
to give everyone in the Cineplex a remote so we can
see what's playing on the other screens.
Let's remember the reason something was a television
show in the first place is the idea wasn't good enough
to be a movie.
New Rule: No more gift registries.
You know, it used to be just for weddings. Now it's
for babies and new homes and graduations from rehab.
Picking up the stuff you want and having other people
buy it for you isn't gift giving, it's the white
collar version of looting.
New Rule: and this one is long overdue: No more
bathroom attendants.
After I zip up, some guy is offering me a towel and a
mint like I just had sex with George Michael. I can't
even tell if he's supposed to be there, or just some
freak with a fetish. I don't want to be on your web
cam, dude. I just want to wash my hands.
New Rule: When I ask how old your toddler is, I don't
need to know in months.
"27 Months."
"He's two," will do just fine. He's not a cheese. And
I didn't care in the first place
rofl