I always picture drunk clowns fighting because it would be funny to see clowns fight.
I’m beginning to question if she was there.
Anybody ever learn how to start a fire from a book? Well, technically, yes. That’s not the point.
I would have a blast on a dessert island though.
Butterscotch is what I call beer.
Mindless Trumpies are fast asleep picturing monster truck rallies. I hate them for this.
I’m kidding. I’m already up.
I don’t think we know enough about that.
Alas, no grill. Or cheese.
If I do set an alarm, I will still be awake when it goes off.
Such is the nature of alarms.
Now it’ll be stuck in your head. If I can’t sleep, no one sleeps.
Or maybe a diner. That would make more sense.
You’re life has been barren in its absence.
My life now has meaning and purpose.
It is as if all of my life was mere preparation for this one sandwich.
I’m kidding again. Pork roll never disappoints. It’s like marriage... except for the “never disappoints” part.
Marriage is a wonderful institution... and I think it’s beautiful when two people decide to get institutionalized together.
I mean, they’ve already beaten the whole “living in sin” rap.
It’s been 73 minutes.
That way I can feel like I just woke up.
Yet, ironically, if I ever do go to a rodeo, it will be my first.
The ol’ “get a jump on the day” thing.
I fear this would seem less shrewd post-pork roll... but maybe a second pork roll would help.
Plus, diner coffee.
Sleep or delicious cured meats.
How will this night/morning end?
This will be my last transmission.