Desperado, why don't you come to your census?
It's really a song about national statistics.

When life gives you lemons, use them as paperweights.

Of all the things people fear of inheriting from their mothers, I guess I'm greatful that we have the same disregard for the laws of gravity. As we both drop everything from the table onto the floor, I realize that we are what some would consider outlaws.

One would think that a computer is perhaps not a being of any feeling. But one would be wrong. Obviously a computer has thought and emotions if when a person as at their last thread of sanity, perhaps sick, writing a paper, near the beginning of the end if you will, the computer KNOWS, FEELS even that it would be the perfect time (perfect!) for the BLUE SCREEN OF DEATH.
My computer not only has emotions but schemes, and also perhaps a cruel sense of irony.
How amusing.

You know what they say:
A cliche a day keeps the doctor away!

Is it worth it to send thank you notes very very late? Because though you may not have thanked people, at least they forgot that you didn't send them at all. Once they get them though, they remember how late you sent it. And maybe they forgot that you have reason to thank them at all.
You know what they say:
Better late than letter?

Today someone reiterated the fact that I am a "sass factory", which means that I produce and ship large amounts of sass to the public.
That goes on the resume.

I hope that the phrase "keep it real" eventually evolves into "keep it fresh" so we can make tupperware jokes.

We think English to be a superior language (by 'we', i obviously mean native English speakers who speak no other language), but what other language can produce such an amazing sentence as:
"This weather, it is pissing the shit out of me."

When reading, it is important to read each word carefully.
Rome's reaction to the murder of the consul paints a much different picture when popular indignation results rather than popular indigestion.
"What injustice that Jugurtha killed Adherbal, my stomach is really hurting!"

You can take the boat out of the water, but you can't take the water out of the boat. And that is why I plan to return it.

The research has been considered, pies have been graphed, subjects have been subjected to shocks of surprise, and the conclusion has been reached: on all logical and reasonable levels of thought, houseplants are far superior to fish as pets.

It's freeing when you realize that you have very simple needs out of life. All I need is someone whose primary purpose is my entertainment and amusement, who knows how to break dance and freestyle, can make chocolate out of air, and likes both country and rap music. Ah, simplicity.

It's funny because when people say conceited things, that's when you realize how much better you are than them.

"Am I attracted to her because she is attractive or is she attractive because I am attracted to her?" he wondered as he stared into what one could call "The Great Horizon" if one were to be so cliche. "Wow, if I get any deeper I may drown," he realized sputtering and resolved to never think this hard again.

Only in the airport can one observe so many different kinds of people from various walks of life, all who seem not to appreicate being stared at for long periods of time.

"Hey, my name is Dave."
"Hi, nice to meet you."
"So, where do you live?"
"Like, on campus or in life?"
"Cool."

Is that an answer? Where did he assume that was?
It is interactions like these that make me wonder why I speak in logical sentences at all. What a waste of my time. For all I care, it should have just been:

"Hey, my name is Dave."
"I'd rather be taking a nap while chasing goose children."
"So, where do you live?"
"One time I saw some scallions sitting in a bag on a rock down the street. No really."
"Cool."

Who invented people?

The road to hell is paved with puns intended.

Today in Ethical Problems lecture the professor discussed what rights we have to censorship and by what logic and reasoning. Obviously included in this is the example of a non-offensive man whose street presence includes deficating naked and then eating it, putting the rest in a ziploc bag, his clothes back on and continue on his merry way to proceed with this performance the following day. What right do we have to censor him? was the question.
But the real question is, how hard is it to be his PR person.
Coming to a city near you: Naked Man Eating Feces!
Lights, camera, appetizers!
Oh philosophy, it really makes you think.