This photo was from Saturday night. The purpose of my wearing a hairpiece was to draw attention away from my extraordinarily shiny forehead. It’s times like that when I wish the media was controlled by grilled cheese sandwiches. Because in their culture, oily is beautiful.
As expected, the girlfriend started to feel the pain on Monday, two days after the accident. The chiropractor took x-rays and was gushing over how straight her spine was as if it was the Holy Grail of chiropractor-dom. "In my entire career I've only come across two or three spines as perfect as yours," he gasped in awe. Apparently for this reason she was spared from suffering back pain. The area of agony was concentrated around her neck.
And hopefully that’s it. I had a coworker who got rear-ended a year ago on the freeway. Because she was a yoga freak, her limber ass was spared any back or neck pain. Then a month later she started experiencing vertigo and even temporary blindness. Symptoms of a migraine.
Maybe this is all God’s way of telling us that cars are sinful. And that we should go back to using a more natural method of transportation, such as strong-legged Midwestern women.
There were boxes of candy bars in the kitchen at work. By the next day they were all gone. All except for the Butterfingers, that is. Does anybody on this planet actually eat that crap? It would explain why Butterfinger ads feature the Simpsons, since the only people they can depict putting it in their mouths without a violently averse reaction are cartoon characters.
Even as a kid, after trick-or-treating, it was pretty much the only candy I wouldn’t touch. And I’d even eat the Mounds and Almond Joy bars, so it’s not like I was that picky about my chocolate bars. I guarantee that if you hand out Butterfingers this Halloween, the kids will be throwing Molotov Cocktails through your windows.