Six Years Older Than Jesus

The following words escaped my lips today:

"Oh yeah? I went to boot camp there twenty-one years ago."

Ah, it seems like yesterday I was defecating in a doorless stall with an audience of a dozen or so other constipated recruits. But no, it wasn't yesterday. It was 7,665 yesterdays ago, 50 lbs. ago & a full head of hair ago. Hot college freshmen weren't born yet, and those that were born that year can now drink to their heart's content (or at least until they fall backwards off of the bar stool with their legs in the air).



Yup, today Blogger automatically updated my profile to indicate I've completed my 39th revolution around a flaming ball of gas (Louie Anderson). Save the accolades & well-wishes. I attribute my longevity to looking both ways before I cross the street & getting the hang of the whole respiration thing. That was a bitch.



August 9, 1967:
Sploit.

Grgmpnbtrhh... gasp. (cough). Inhale exhale. Inhale exhale. Inhale exhale. Inhale exhale.

It's pretty much been automatic since then. Generally, I do it through my nose, unless it's crusted over with boogers or I'm at the end of a shift on the ice, in which case the mouth comes in to pick up the slack. I try not to waste too much breath, but every once in a while a bit escapes. Audibly.

Here are other things that escaped my lips recently:

"That Little People show is still on the air? Midgets should only be televised on David Lee Roth videos."

Female Hockey Player in Bar: So, you play on a team with a bunch of fags? How's that working out for you?
Me: As long as they can skate, I don't give a flying rat's *ss where they put their d*ck.

A bit of spittle.

Mrs. Prego: Honey, did you pick up the poop in the back yard?
Me: (Fingers in ears - to the tune of Minnie Ripperton's "Lovin' You") La-la-la-la-la la-la-la-la-la... la-la-la-la-la la la la la la la,
dooo doo do do do dooooo, eeee eeeee eeeee eeeee eeeeeee....

"Each of her boobs is the size of Fletchmonster's head."

"(Shudder) Well, there's a sore for sight-eyes."

"You only call them 'Jesus-kickers' when you're talking to daddy. Your grandma and grandpa call them 'sandals'."

"That thing is a behemoth. I meant the dog, not your friend."

"Come to Carmela."


For the 53rd consecutive week: "I think I'm going to start running on Monday."


Here are several utterances that shan't:

"John Tesh? I have all his albums."

"Really? Dr. Phil was talking about that."

"So, anything new with your co-workers, honey?"

"Sorry I farted in front of you, babe. Next time I'll leave the room."

"Oooh. Wal*Mart. Let's see if they have (product) there."

"I Believe in God, the Father almighty, Creator of heaven and earth. And in Jesus Christ, His only Son, our Lord, Who was conceived by the Holy Ghost, born of the Virgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, died and was buried: He descended into hell, the third day He arose again from the dead; He ascended into heaven, sitteth at the right hand of God the Father almighty; from thence He shall come to judge the living and the dead. I believe in the Holy Ghost, the holy Catholic Church, the communion of Saints, the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and life everlasting. Amen."

"Sweet. A wedding invitation."

"Let's go to that place we saw on Rachel Ray."

"Allow me to help you with the laundry."

"I pledge allegiance to the flag..."

"NASCAR is really a sport, when you think about it."

"I'd feel safer with a gun in the house."



I'm reserving these for my last breath:
"If there is a god, I'm f*cked."

"Rosebud."

(To the tune of Minnie Ripperton's "Lovin' You") "La-la-la-la-la la-la-la-la-la... la-la-la-la-la la la la la la la,
dooo doo do do do dooooo, eeee eeeee eeeee eeeee eeeeeee.."

Inhale exhale. Inhale exhale. Inhale exhale. Inhale exhale. Inhale exhale. Inhale exhale. Inhale exhale. Inhale exhale. Inhale exhale. Inhale exhale. Inhale exhale. Inhale exhale. ...