Marching Bands Are Just Homeless Orchestras (7 page)

Don’t be offended if I kick your butt but don’t take your name. I’m horrible with names.

He’s been marinating in honey for years. Don’t tell me a rack of Winnie-the-Pooh ribs wouldn’t be tasty.

I’m glad when a concert advertises limited seating because parking is a real pain at those unlimited seating venues.

As a kid, I had lots of time but very few quarters. As an adult, I have many quarters and so little time. FORGIVE ME, CENTIPEDE!

A panic room seems overindulgent. I can panic in any room.

As adorable as my cat acts around laser pointers, I’m just not all that impressed with his PowerPoint presentations.

A midlife crisis is just teen angst with disposable income.

When I want something a little healthier than an ice cream sandwich, I usually go for an ice cream salad.

Reinstalling Microsoft Office on a Friday night. There are so many sad layers to this, I feel like an Olive Garden lasagna.

Never trust anyone under 30 lbs. Especially when it comes to driving directions. Babies are liars.

Night people could take over the world if we weren’t so busy finding something good on TV.

By the third time he’s sent out to pick up a pile of clothes in an alley, I bet Clark Kent’s intern is totally weirded out.