Monday, January 23, 2012

buddha bars bourbon explosions

I find it odd that it's sometimes called a "remote control." The word "remote" and the word "control" are two words that play a major role in my emotional life, but when you put them together you have just described something that is a major role in switching from Keeping Up with the Kardashians to Celebrity Wife Swap.

The Buddha walks into a bar and realizes that this bar only serves bourbon. This Buddha orders the bourbon, drinks it down, and then checks into a motel room with NO Bible. The Buddha is disappointed, to say the least, but also extremely wasted, so the Buddha passes out with his army boots still on.

That Buddha joke was perhaps my finest joke.

Sometimes I don't wash my hands after going to the bathroom. This is a new thing for me, as I was pretty OCD in the past about having clean clean clean everything. I will wash my hands if I am using a public restroom or at someone's abode, but if I am just by myself at my house and I have had a lot of liquid, I know that it's almost a little silly to wash my hands when I will just be peeing 20 minutes from now. My skin is so dry! I hate dry hands! And apparently I don't hate pee particles on doorknobs!

Let's see. That whole "I'm gonna go without caffeine" thing sure didn't work out. But let's also see that if I keep restricting myself, I'm going to see myself explode. Imagine seeing yourself explode and realizing that you have no control over the situation, that you are now truly remote without a body - and now grab the remote control and press pause. Look! There you are! In a 1,000,000,000,000,001 little pieces. You are adorable.

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