I thought Cuba Gooding Jr. saying “Show me the money” more than once was the pinnacle of halftime interviews. I was wrong.
A conversation I wish I had overheard.
“I heard you saw Jin Xing last night. How was it?”
“Let’s just say they owe me a soda.”
“I wasn’t talking to you. I’m on my cell phone.”
“A WHISKEY and soda.”
“Please, leave me alone.”
There's no way "banana pudding rolls" existed before I knocked that box over.
- Universe Henchman 1: Pierogis, strudel, wasabi peas. Looks like he’s knocked them all over.
- Universe Henchman 2: Every embarrassing thing?
- UH1: According to my files, yes.
- UH2: Wasabi peas?
- UH1: He’s had some strange roommates.
- UH2: What about taquitos or zebra cakes?
- UH1: You dropped those exact things on our way back from 7-11 five minutes ago.
- UH2: Oh, right. I forgot we took them off of the list.
- UH1: I don’t see why we can’t just let him look cool in a supermarket this one time.
- UH2: Yeah, me eith--wait, what did you get again?
- UH1: A banana, a pudding pack, and a roll for that creepy “God” guy who hangs around outside the office sometimes.
- UH2: I think I’ve got it.
I didn’t enjoy my lunch because a baby wouldn’t stop looking at me. I am a mountain of a man.
After four years it was over. A relationship stamped by comfort and warmth kicked to the curb, leaving nothing but a trampled ego and, yes, some reservations. Despite having cold feet, he knew it was the right thing to do. It had to be done. It may not have felt right, or sounded right, or even looked right—sitting on the side of the road amongst garbage—but it smelled right. If not right, at least better. Those moccasins were never meant to be worn outside. Now he knows better.
Acknowledgements: Everyone I sit near at work, lady on bus who sat down next to me, then promptly stood up and found a new seat.
Can anyone recommend a good writing exercise? Curling into a ball and rocking back and forth just doesn’t challenge me like it used to.
Martin's Room
- Woman on Phone: Are you drunk right now?
- Martin: Damn, Gina!
Three Line Play: "Soup or Man"
- Nadine: Your apartment smells.
- Joseph: Like soup?
- Nadine: No, not like soup.
If you ever had any doubt that the Knicks franchise messes everything up, it was supposed to read “Renacho Balkman, Nacho Town, USA.”
I don’t always use words incorrectly, but when I do I’m discrete about it.
