When the mailman arrives at your doorstep gingerly carrying a fragile Christmas gift from a distant relative, do you make fun of his silly looking blue half-pants?
When the power goes out in your house, do you crawl under your kitchen table and wait for the inevitable alien invasion, or do you just stand on your front lawn and shake your fist at the sky shouting “Bring it on, you alien suckers! I’ve got 10 knuckles with your alien names on them!”? If more people did the latter, then maybe global warming wouldn’t be such a problem.
If a beautiful Monarch butterfly flaps its wings in Texas, what are the chances that someone is going to try to shoot it with a 10 gauge? I would say, Defcon 1 (only because I’ve always wanted to say that).
Do tigers ever look at their beautiful orange and black stripes, stretch their powerful muscles, and wonder why the hell Oprah Winfrey is famous?
If an apple falls from a tree and hits me in the head, will I be inspired like Newton was when he invented the laws of gravity, or will I just smash that apple into your stupid laughing face?
Wouldn’t it be easier to just fly to work on my golden wings of love and divine inspiration instead of riding my bike because of multiple DUI convictions (alleged)?
How many times can I call the police and report a robbery before they look out the front window of the police station and force me to put my clothes back on?
Will my gentle and forgiving nature one day rise up and strangle me in a fit of rage because it represses everything and doesn’t know how to express its feelings like its ex boyfriend did, and wow was he a lot cuter, and he actually cooked once in a while too?
Couldn’t I get lucky one time, just one time my sweet Lord, and hug a 300 pound bouncer who actually wants and appreciates a loving hug?
How many times have you opened a closet door expecting an inter-dimensional time warp portal to be behind it? And how many times have you punched your stupid pinstriped suit as hard as you can when that portal isn’t there?
Did the 80’s really happen, or did someone just throw a box of parachute pants and Cyndi Lauper into a ceiling fan in 1979?
If the fifty United States had a meeting to decide whether or not to allow prayer in schools, what are the chances that California shows up like a half hour late, minimum? I say 100 percent. Oh, make sure you separate Nevada and Utah; they don’t get along at all. I’m sure Texas will show up and be all like “Yeehaw, lets have some barbeque! Who wants to go to the Ro-day-o?!?!” And don’t even count on Hawaii, I guarantee they are so high right now.
If Billy has six apples, and Lucy has three apples, and Johnny walks up asking for half of Billy’s apples, and one-third of Lucy’s, then who does Johnny think he is? Can’t he just earn his apples like Billy and Lucy did, running guns for the Gambino crime family?
Have you ever sat cross-legged in the middle of a busy highway singing Bon Jovi songs while birds swoop down and peck at your hair (which is filled with birdseed from a wedding you went to) and then Bon Jovi himself pulls up next to you in his limo, leans his head out the window, and sings harmony on “Wanted Dead or Alive” thereby forcing the birds to attack him instead?
Does grass that grows on the moon taste like peppermint? If it does, then get yourself up there on the next shuttle and start eating as much as you can get your hands on. Your breath smells like a gym locker.
Ladies, is it really so hard to put the toilet seat up when you are done sitting on it? Y’all gonna make me lose my mind up in here (up in here).
Would you let Rudolph join in your reindeer games already? He’s really bumming everyone out hanging around the house and complaining about nose-ism (discrimination based on the function of one’s nose), which I secretly think is something he made up just to get some sympathy. I mean, he can fly, isn’t that good enough?
Hello world!
5 years ago
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OK..I laughed out loud at the Police station question....where do you think of these things? Again...I must commend you on your hilarious blog!
"Chrissy" (if that is her real name) raises an interesting question herself: Where do I think of these things? Every single one of these questions, and I do mean every single one, was given to me by the late, great, Walter Matthau on his death bed. Don't ask how I got access to Mr. Matthau in his dying days (it involved the F.B.I., a can of spray paint and a Donkey named 'Pedro'. Long story.) The fact remains, Mr. Matthau had these questions rattling around in his head, and he gave me the right to post them here. He was obviously deeply troubled. I am his humble servant, and I present the words of Mr. Matthau to you, the humble reader.
Or, I made them up at work while sitting in a cubicle and being forced to listen to the Muzak version of "Livin on a Prayer" for the 100th time since I got here this morning.
Take your pick.
Do you actually "work" at work? Do you take a laptop to the can? How do you have time to write and still watch the required number of reality shows each week?
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