Wednesday, November 16, 2011

Hair. Plug.

Even though I feel awful every time I have a cigarette, I think there's a real market for them.
If only there was some way to have a child, get them to roll them, sell them at school, and reap the profits...
That's a back burner idea. 
Until then, it's sneakers and Gucci bags. 

I don't know why I walk to Starbucks to write these. 
It's pretty far from tranquility here. 
This place is jammed with monkeys and these machines make such a racket. 
So many women wear moccasins here. 
And not a one of them is Eskimo. 
It's fucked, y'know. 
The footwear women get away with. 
Hideous footwear. 
Searches I used to find this old blog post:
"I probably don't know what I'm talking about" (unsuccessful [though accurate]).
"dart my fucking eyes out" (for the win). 

Good thing we have those cell phones. 
Used to be that only doctors and drug dealers had to be on call. 
Now it's all of us. 
On call for absolutely nothing. 

When you reach a mature age, you begin keeping all of your spare change in a huge jar. 
And unless you bust it open to buy the re-re-release of The Lion King, you keep that jar. 
Until you turn 70. 
Then you use all of that accumulated change to pay for absolutely everything. 
Is that funny?
I said that onstage and got nothin'. 

The Internet is literacy's undoing. 
Don't believe me, ask the lolcats about it. 

They solved impotence. 
But they're still working on hair loss treatments. 
These bald dudes can't prioritize. 
As long as you can have sex when you're seventy, who gives a shit, y'know?
Who cares? Women will sleep with you anyway. 
Some woman will. 
You've had sex since you've been bald, right?
And it's not like baldness is your only problem, right?
There are worse physical afflictions. 
Half of the NBA surrenders their hair on purpose, and they fuck everything. 
Of course, they can drive to the net better than you can. 
But still. 
Indian women give up their hair for spiritual purity. 
And, unbeknownst to them, for bitches in L.A.
You don't hear them complaining. 
Buy some of that, graft it to your head, and fuck off with all your creams and gels. 
Scalp buffers and satellite, hair-growth laser beams. 
None of it is going to work. 
You're bald. 
But at least you can keep your penis hard. 
By the way, if you're a 30-something balding man, and you still mousse and gel what little remnants of hair (dignity) that you have, you're going to your death bed not understanding how to be cool. 
Stop trying. 

Well. 
That felt good. 
Sorry, Coombs, if you're reading this. 
You kind of got hit by the crossfire there. 
Coombs on CBC, everybody!
Airs November 19, the New Screech Comedy Festival!
Check out his jokes as the sheen of his polished, flawless scalp takes your breath away. 
Also on that show are John Sheehan, Trent McClellan. 
Hot stuff Sean Cullen. 
And Dan Akroyd says a few words before he goes out and gets fucked up on his own brand of wine. 


1 comment:

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