One of the most devastating moments in a man’s life is when a hot chick catches him picking his nose.
My cubemate’s fish takes hours to poop. Shortly after being fed in the morning, a tubular formation will gradually grow out from just in front of its ventral fin, trailing it for most of the day like a banner being flown behind a plane. I am certain that, if one were to examine it closely, one would find the words “Eat At Joe’s” printed on it in tiny fish letters.
In other news, Barenaked Ladies’ next album will be called Tiny Fish Letters. Well, okay, the next BNL album is called Barenaked Ladies Are Me, but Tiny Fish Letters would also have been very good.
I realized today, during my morning shower musings, that it is impossible to be only part-cyborg. I’ve heard the terms part-cyborg and half-cyborg used before, and it did not occur to me until now that if you are part-cyborg, then you are completely cyborg. Here’s the proof, written in layman terms:
Define the statement “is a cyborg” as C. C is true if and only if 0 < a < 1, where a is the proportion of a body’s mass that is cybernetic.
Now say that a is equal to any b0 that fulfills the requirements for a. If we define b1 as being equal to b0/x, where x is some positive number greater than 1, then we have effectively created something that is part-cyborg. However, if 0 < b0 < 1 is true, then 0 < b1 < 1 must also be true (trivial – no justification necessary). Therefore, b1, which we purported to denote a part cyborg, actually denotes a full cyborg. QED
The following words and phrases must never, ever be spoken in the lyrics of a rock song. They have been sung to death. Let them go.
- California
- You know it’s true
- Deep inside of me
- Rock and Roll
- Baby
- Honey
- I can’t hide this feeling
- Girl (as a proper noun)
- You know what I’m talkin’ about
- All night long
- Like I knew you would
- It’s now or never
I try not to hold my doodoo in when I can help it; I go as soon as the fancy strikes me. This is because my number could be up at any moment, and when I die, I don’t want to be emptying my bowels while some hot chick is crying over my dead body, wishing that she had told me how she felt about me sooner. It would completely ruin the moment.
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