Random thought:
Why does Jerry Springer host AMERICA'S GOT TALENT?
That could quite possibly be the biggest oxymoron ever to exist.
-
How cool would a time machine be?
I'd love to be pitted up face to face against our prehistoric ancestors. I'd love to see how the dinosaurs interacted. I'd love to see even how the dinosaurs became extinct and whether or not Jurassic Park hit how they coexisted with each other peacefully on the nose or if or if how dinosaurs roamed the earth were as disturbing as the last two sequels pumped out by them were. Although maybe it's a good thing we can't time travel. If I could bring matter back with me through time, I'd probably bring a tyrannosaurus rex to the modern streets of Chicago with me just to see how that'd all unravel. I don't know how to explain my interest of dinosaurs, somewhere between a future paleontologist who will go above and beyond his profession by dedicating thousands of late man hours to later discover hundreds of thousands unknown species of dinosaurs, working hard with their DNA strings to eventually clone them back to life. OR, I'll be humping the hell out of the woolly mammoth exhibit at the local museum. Something dedicated like that. Know what's scary? I probably will be that weirdo dry humping exhibits.
My desktop is even littered with cutesy dinosaur wallpaper.
[edit]: My apologies to anonymous for using this (cutesy) grammar abomination.
To a lesser extent I'd also travel back to 1986, January 21st (perhaps even January 22nd) depending how long my mom was in labor and in the hospital with me for (hey! high five again God! I'll take future prostate problems over nine months of pregnancy anyday). See, I was born on the 22nd. And no, I wouldn't try to travel back into time to push myself back into my mothers womb or something weird (I thought I should clarify) considering I just said I'd physically rape the mammoth exhibit at your local library or museums. I'd probably go back and just sit quietly at the gift shop at the hospital.
I know I know.
".. that sounds like quite a party Dave."
Very few people know why. Thankfully. I think we can all agree that no matter where you're from in the world, no matter the religion there's a pretty standard code of practice when it comes to celebrating a babys birth with plush dolls. You give the baby a teddy bear. Always. Everyone I know has gotten a teddy bear at birth, my brother has gotten a teddy bear at birth, multiple teddy bears even from multiple family members. And my aunt, decided that day at the hospital gift shop to pick me up a...
Yeah, you see right.
It's a camel. A camel I aptly named Moose Moose.
WHO THE HELL THINKS "CONGRATULATIONS ON NINE MONTHS OF PAINSTAKING PREGNANCY, A SUCCESSFUL MARRIAGE OF FOUR YEARS AND FINALLY BRINGING A BEAUTIFUL BABY BOY INTO THE WORLD YOU CAN CALL YOUR OWN FOREVER AND EVER; HERE'S A CAMEL." And why on earth was the gift shop that day even selling camels?! I've actually volunteered (I know, shocking) at the hospital that delivered me downtown and the gift shop there has never sold anything but teddy bears. I suppose it wasn't too bad, it seems everyone continued to celebrate my existence in the world with the most rejected plush animals they could find. As I said my brother received multiple white teddy bears from various family members, one of my uncles (not related to the crazy camel aunt) decided to give me this:
WHAT'S WRONG WITH MY FAMILY?!
I still have him, though.
And at least this time I was aware of its anatomy. I named him Robby the Raccoon. I actually dressed up once as "Robby" for Halloween, but that's probably because at the time I still carried him around to the park and stuff I owned a blue winter jacket. Halloween in Canada is cold. Very cold. 95% of the time growing up, there was snow before Halloween. So my dad just painted whiskers on me, a nose, stapled a blue wrapped up cloth to my jacket and I went as the raccoon. That's either innovative, cheap or how you can tell you're Canadian -- when your Halloween costume is also your winter jacket.
... for ten years in a row.
I was watching "AMERICA'S GOT TALENT" earlier tonight which distracted me from finishing this sooner and prompted the random thought at the beginning of this entry. Jerry Springer hosts the show, David Hasselhoff is one of the talented judges incharge of judging talent. Watching Jerry Springer talk was socially awkward enough. Randomly tonight he kept telling parents they raised such fantastic children, while probably asking them off camera if they secretly inhaled crack and had sex with midgets and if they secretly did, if they wanted guest appearances on his show. Can someone please explain to me why David Hasselhoff is incharge of judging other peoples integrity?!!!!?!
No disrespect to the man - I am a fan of his singing career, he rocks.. but! The only thing he's done recently is get intoxicated and puke up hamburgers while cursing at his daughter. I don't think he's the best one they could have hired to be solely responsible for judging the good character of others. Though I suppose it beats his songs:
I bet you thought I was kidding about his singing career, huh?
Sadly that's about the only thing in this latest novel entry that wasn't a joke.
I'm hooked on a feelin', aye iye iye that's catchy stuff.
Hold me in your muscular snowboarding eskimo arms, David Hasselhoff. Hold meeee.
Why does Jerry Springer host AMERICA'S GOT TALENT?
That could quite possibly be the biggest oxymoron ever to exist.
-
How cool would a time machine be?
I'd love to be pitted up face to face against our prehistoric ancestors. I'd love to see how the dinosaurs interacted. I'd love to see even how the dinosaurs became extinct and whether or not Jurassic Park hit how they coexisted with each other peacefully on the nose or if or if how dinosaurs roamed the earth were as disturbing as the last two sequels pumped out by them were. Although maybe it's a good thing we can't time travel. If I could bring matter back with me through time, I'd probably bring a tyrannosaurus rex to the modern streets of Chicago with me just to see how that'd all unravel. I don't know how to explain my interest of dinosaurs, somewhere between a future paleontologist who will go above and beyond his profession by dedicating thousands of late man hours to later discover hundreds of thousands unknown species of dinosaurs, working hard with their DNA strings to eventually clone them back to life. OR, I'll be humping the hell out of the woolly mammoth exhibit at the local museum. Something dedicated like that. Know what's scary? I probably will be that weirdo dry humping exhibits.
My desktop is even littered with cutesy dinosaur wallpaper.
[edit]: My apologies to anonymous for using this (cutesy) grammar abomination.
To a lesser extent I'd also travel back to 1986, January 21st (perhaps even January 22nd) depending how long my mom was in labor and in the hospital with me for (hey! high five again God! I'll take future prostate problems over nine months of pregnancy anyday). See, I was born on the 22nd. And no, I wouldn't try to travel back into time to push myself back into my mothers womb or something weird (I thought I should clarify) considering I just said I'd physically rape the mammoth exhibit at your local library or museums. I'd probably go back and just sit quietly at the gift shop at the hospital.
I know I know.
".. that sounds like quite a party Dave."
Very few people know why. Thankfully. I think we can all agree that no matter where you're from in the world, no matter the religion there's a pretty standard code of practice when it comes to celebrating a babys birth with plush dolls. You give the baby a teddy bear. Always. Everyone I know has gotten a teddy bear at birth, my brother has gotten a teddy bear at birth, multiple teddy bears even from multiple family members. And my aunt, decided that day at the hospital gift shop to pick me up a...
Yeah, you see right.
It's a camel. A camel I aptly named Moose Moose.
WHO THE HELL THINKS "CONGRATULATIONS ON NINE MONTHS OF PAINSTAKING PREGNANCY, A SUCCESSFUL MARRIAGE OF FOUR YEARS AND FINALLY BRINGING A BEAUTIFUL BABY BOY INTO THE WORLD YOU CAN CALL YOUR OWN FOREVER AND EVER; HERE'S A CAMEL." And why on earth was the gift shop that day even selling camels?! I've actually volunteered (I know, shocking) at the hospital that delivered me downtown and the gift shop there has never sold anything but teddy bears. I suppose it wasn't too bad, it seems everyone continued to celebrate my existence in the world with the most rejected plush animals they could find. As I said my brother received multiple white teddy bears from various family members, one of my uncles (not related to the crazy camel aunt) decided to give me this:
WHAT'S WRONG WITH MY FAMILY?!
I still have him, though.
And at least this time I was aware of its anatomy. I named him Robby the Raccoon. I actually dressed up once as "Robby" for Halloween, but that's probably because at the time I still carried him around to the park and stuff I owned a blue winter jacket. Halloween in Canada is cold. Very cold. 95% of the time growing up, there was snow before Halloween. So my dad just painted whiskers on me, a nose, stapled a blue wrapped up cloth to my jacket and I went as the raccoon. That's either innovative, cheap or how you can tell you're Canadian -- when your Halloween costume is also your winter jacket.
... for ten years in a row.
I was watching "AMERICA'S GOT TALENT" earlier tonight which distracted me from finishing this sooner and prompted the random thought at the beginning of this entry. Jerry Springer hosts the show, David Hasselhoff is one of the talented judges incharge of judging talent. Watching Jerry Springer talk was socially awkward enough. Randomly tonight he kept telling parents they raised such fantastic children, while probably asking them off camera if they secretly inhaled crack and had sex with midgets and if they secretly did, if they wanted guest appearances on his show. Can someone please explain to me why David Hasselhoff is incharge of judging other peoples integrity?!!!!?!
No disrespect to the man - I am a fan of his singing career, he rocks.. but! The only thing he's done recently is get intoxicated and puke up hamburgers while cursing at his daughter. I don't think he's the best one they could have hired to be solely responsible for judging the good character of others. Though I suppose it beats his songs:
I bet you thought I was kidding about his singing career, huh?
Sadly that's about the only thing in this latest novel entry that wasn't a joke.
I'm hooked on a feelin', aye iye iye that's catchy stuff.
Hold me in your muscular snowboarding eskimo arms, David Hasselhoff. Hold meeee.
Comments
The chance of me using cutesy in any kind of context again is about as likely as me actually successfully bringing back a t-rex to the alleyways of Chicago.
gotta give whats the word.. props? to the only guy who didnt shave his chest on baywatch.
SADDDDDLY.