I can’t believe this bitch is about to take me for $300 million!!!

AAAARGHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Wrap your head around my words

colon : semicolon :: meta analogies : semi-meta analogies

Monologue Jokes for November Talk Show

Sesame Street turned 40 this month.  It was a pretty typical 40th birthday; Big Bird dyed his hair, bought a convertible and disappeared for a couple of days.

NASA made a huge discovery last week when they found water on the moon.  Scientists said the last time they found water in a place that cold and distant was when Kate Gosselin went into labor.

Oprah Winfrey announced today that she’ll be ending her talk show in 2011, but knowing Oprah, this is likely to fluctuate.  It’s been a great run, though, and I think if Oprah taught us anything in the last 25 years, it’s that black is, apparently, not all that slimming.

Supermodel Kate Moss faced backlash this week after saying in an interview that she lives by the pro-anorexia motto of “Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels.”   Moss said that she was misquoted in the interview and that, “Obviously, cocaine tastes just as good as skinny feels.”

Human Girl, I’m Encouraging You to Not Date that Teenage Vampire

Let me just start by saying that this letter is for your sake, not mine.  Yes, I am completely obsessed with you and have wasted upwards of $600 on ineffective pheromone colognes, but this is about what’s best for you.

Listen to me – do not date that teenage vampire.  I know he’s anatomically perfect and has that sexy aloof thing going, but he’s a fucking VAMPIRE.  You know, traditional enemy of humans?  And, yes, I’m aware that vampires are enemies of both humans and werewolves and that the enemy of my enemy is my friend, but in this case, the enemy of my enemy is a fucking VAMPIRE.

Do you really think you could start a family with this guy?  Have little half-human, half-vampire kids that cry cute little tears because they don’t have a pet, and then when you buy one, they immediately devour it?  I hope your name is on the mortgage application, as most lenders adhere to a pretty strict anti-vampire policy.

Have you heard stories about husbands that just disappear on their wife and kids?  Well, this guy can literally do that.  One second, you’re arguing the superiority of human composers to vampire composers, you drop a hateful special slur because you‘re losing the argument, and then his clothes drop to the kitchen floor in a puff of smoke.  A month later, you’re raking leaves in the yard and see a bat flying towards the pile.  You think it’s your husband, so you apologetically run to him, but it’s only a regular bat and it bites you right on your stupid fucking neck.

Let’s talk about the things you can’t do with this guy.  You could never go to the state fair and enjoy the fun house mirrors with him.  You could never watch a vampire movie without him criticizing every single detail of the film.  You could never eat a nice garlic shrimp at Red Lobster.  And, I don’t know about you, but that last one would be a deal-breaker for me.

As for the elephant in the room, I‘m just going to go ahead and say it: we both know it’s only a matter of time before this guy fucks Kate Beckinsale.  Guaranteed.  There’s no way you won’t find out about it, because he’ll be dropping hints all night after he gets home.  I mean, this guy was just inside of Kate Beckinsale, there’s no way he’s not talking about it.  After an hour of, “Do you remember that girl from Underworld,” and, “Do you remember that girl from Underworld: Evolution,” he’s going to drop the bomb.  It won’t take long before you’re in the bathroom with two slit wrists, which is great for him because, hey, free blood.

Monologue jokes for October Talk Show

A new book by Barack Obama’s presidential campaign manager revealed that Hillary Clinton was passed over for Vice President because Obama’s people thought Bill Clinton would be too controlling.  This marks the first time in 15 years that Bill has screwed Hillary.

A recent study found that West Virginia is the most sleepless state in the U.S.  The main reason for this, researchers said, is that the majority of West Virginians have trouble counting past that third sheep.

The British government just announced that children as young as nine-years-old will start to receive career counseling in all British primary schools.  In a related story, Skeet Ulrich has enrolled himself into a British primary school.

Iraqi refugees in Syria will start receiving text messages from the United Nations that they can redeem for food in local shops.  When it was pointed out that most of the refugees don’t own cell phones, a U.N. representative replied, “OMFG, brb.”

Video game giant Nintendo reported a huge plummet in sales that has stockholders worried.  It’s gotten so bad that the company is smashing all the bricks in its headquarters to see if they can find some coins.

The end of Text Message Week

As promised, here is the series of texts that almost led to my arrest.

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Aug 16.  1:54 a.m.  908 area code.
Greg: Did you tell my daughter is was ok to have an abortion?

908: Don’t know who you are or what you’re talking about

Greg: Don’t even try that old line with me.  You had no business telling a 16-year-old that she could have an abortion without telling her parents.  We are the ones that should be counseling her, not anyone else.

908: Lol no idea what you’re talking about

Greg: Sure, you probably drank away the memory.  Try and sober up for the police.  They should be coming by on Monday to get a statement.

908: Sure ill talk to em.  Night

908: Feelin stupid yet?  Figure out you texted the wrong person?  Maybe you should have checked the number before you made an ass of yourself

Greg: Denial won’t make it any less true, Alicia.  Stop destroying lives and work on your own.

908: Hahaha you do have the right number I guess but I still don’t know what you’re talking about

908: Who’s your daughter I’m so confused

Greg: Our lawyer advised us against speaking about the pending case.  I just wanted you to know that my husband and I are extremely pissed.

908: My father is a detective, he’s called twice minutes ago from his office.  He’s filing a charge as we speak.  I’d advise you contact him at 908892****

908: I will no longer be respond, you can take it up with him.

Greg: What? I thought your dad ran a bar in Jersey City.  Who is this?

Greg: Did you tell my daughter is was ok to have an abortion?908: Don’t know who you are or what you’re talking about

Text Message Week – Greg Gets Got

Everyone loves to see the prankster get pranked, right?  Unless the prankster is getting pranked for hours in a basement with a crowbar being wielded by a hack comedian doing a shitty Christopher Walken impression.

Back in February, the lovely Meaghan McClenny, in all kinds of cahoots with soulmate Bobby Bobberson, was kind enough to prank me via text messaging.  Throughout the entire exchange, I believed that this random number had accidentally texted me and that I was pranking them.  Silly Greg!

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Feb. 14th.  6:02pm.  919 area code.

919: hey jen wat u doin 2nite

919: Yo jen im real sorry bout last nite Plz talk 2 me

Greg: y should i

919: I swear i didnt kno rob wuz ur cuz

Greg: y would u go that far?

919: thinking of u wit another man made me wile out

Greg: well u can start wilein out now

919: Wut u sayin

Greg: u know

919: k just want 2 apologize u have a good vday

Text Message Week continues!!!

More texts to the unsuspecting.  Tomorrow, I’ll be posting a series of texts where I was the random getting punked.

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Aug. 16th.  10:24pm.  910 area code.

Greg: Stop texting me.

910: Who in the hell is this

Greg: Can’t you read? I said STOP. TEXTING. ME.

910: First of all I don’t know who y0u are, you txt me first so you stop texting me and that’s if you can read cause obviously you have the wrong number

Greg: You don’t get it. You just don’t get it. I’m blocking you, don’t bother to send me any more texts.

910: Wow your dumb

910 calls my friend who gave me her number and asks him if he has a hand in the texts, which he vehemently denies.  As soon as he hangs up, I send one last text.

Greg: Stop calling [my friends].

It’s Text Message Week!

A couple of friends and I like to play a game where we mess with strangers through text messaging.  We’ll each give each other a phone number from our phone that the other doesn’t have, and start from there.

Every day this week, I’ll be posting one of those text interactions.  Today, you get two, because I won’t be around on Tuesday.  We’ll end on Friday with the series of messages that almost led to my arrest.

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Aug. 16th.  11:04pm.  919 area code.

Greg: It’s 14 fucking degrees in here!

919: Where are you and who is this?

Greg: In my freezer.  It’s Jake.  They put me in here as a joke and now I can’t get out.  I think they left.

919: Jake who?

Greg: Jake Sanders.  My phone is about to die.  Call Kim and tell her to let me the fuck out.

919: I think you have the wrong number, good luck getting ot of the freezer.

Greg: Can’t even eat the fucking food in here because it’s fucking frozen.

Greg: HELP!

919: Who are you trying to text?

_________________________________________________________________________________________

618 area code.

Oct 4, 12:34 am  Greg: Just want you to know that your bro just stole $170 from me.  Little pissed right now.

Oct 4, 1:19 am  Greg: And now my girl broke up with me because I don’t have any money to take her out for her birthday tomorrow.  I hope he’s happy.

Oct 4, 3:18 am  Greg: My girl came back and she won $200 at Bingo, so we’re cool now.  Not even made about the $170. (If he wants to bring it back, though, I’ll take it.  Kind of want to buy that Beatles Rock Band set.)

How a drunk person solves puzzles.

Scenario: This past Friday night.  3 a.m.  Friend’s apartment.  We’re all drunk, we’ve all just eaten Cosmic Cantina, we’re all loving life, and I’ve just locked out all five of us on the second-floor balcony.

Everyone starts calling friends within 20 miles to see if they can come open the front door and then unlock the balcony’s sliding glass dungeon keeper.  The ones that answer are out of town.  I call a friend who I already know is out of town, just to tell him that I’m drunk and I love him because he’s not a parrot and I hate parrots.

Once we accept that we’ll have to get ourselves out of this situation, we start brainstorming escape plans.  Some are legitimate, some are jokes, and a couple started out as jokes, but quickly turn into viable plans.

Someone suggests shouting until a neighbor opens their window and says, “Shut the fuck up!”  Then we reply with, “No, YOU shut the fuck up, but could you first come open the door for us?”

Shouting would be too rude, we decide.  We’ll take the quieter approach and just throw things at their window, like the love-struck teenager in old romantic comedies.  Except, we don’t have any pebbles, just empty beer bottles.  Could still work, though, if we just flick it.

One of the guys says that he’ll jump down.  I tell him that would be far too dangerous and that, if anything, we should tandem jump, because it’s safer.  The lone girl on the balcony interrupts, disputing my claim and I try to explain the physics.

Hold on a second, is that a bag full of clothes on the balcony?  We can throw the bag down and then jump into it!  No?  Well, then we’ll take the clothes and tie them together and Rapunzel ourselves down.  Agreed.

Right before we start tying the clothes together, we see a girl walking around the back of the complex.

“I’ll call out to her,” says one of the guys.

“No,” I reply.  “You’ll sound rapey.  I think a girl should call out to her so she doesn’t get scared off.”

Two minutes later, we’re rescued, which is bittersweet, because I still want to tandem jump.