Which store? Target? Victoria’s Secret? B&D Comic Shop on Elm Avenue?
Not to be a Negative Ned here, but there are some people from my past I wouldn’t want to meet by chance. That’s why they’re in the past.
Though it’s important to note that my fortune here says the past, not necessarily my past. Which I suppose could mean I’ll meet William Jennings Bryant at the bait shop or something.
I probably think too much about these things.
Oh my god — I just caught myself wearing socks with sandals.
And I was ONCE SO HIP.
[Narrator:] He was never hip.
When you’re walking around downtown all alone and paranoid at night and some OTHER paranoid dude by himself gives you the side-eye, and you’re like, “There but for the grace of God go waaaaaaiaminute.”
Well played, universe. Well played.
Some people want to climb Everest. Some people want to sail around the world.
I’d love to be able to eat food without dripping it down the length of my white t-shirt like a goddamned jackass.
I should probably just stop buying white t-shirts.
Anyway, when I posted this on Facebook, the platform actually asked to help me raise money to figure this out. Seriously. Thanks, Facebook.
Thanks, Amazon, but I honestly didn’t mean to order my belt from goddamned Munchkinland.
Who was this designed for? A ventriloquist dummy?
Did they pass along my order to the Build-A-Bear Workshop?
Going over my monthly budget. Yeesh.
When it rains, it poors.
“Because everyone deserves a second shot.” Coming soon to a theater near you.
If I understand the science correctly, this makes me immune to criticism. You people make a note of it.
I’m half vaccinated —
but fully caffeinated!
My vax card’s laminated
while my wit is adulated!
My laptop’s activated
with a WIP that’s paginated —
so if you’re not aggravated
by verses fabricated,
I hope you’re acclimated
to being fascinated!
[Insert scratchy turntable here or something]
I told my best friend yesterday that there was a boa constrictor loose in my house and she TOTALLY BOUGHT IT. So did her kids.
And last year I had her convinced that a family of raccoons had moved into my closet.
I am the April Fool’s joke MASTER; I should be a supervillain named “April Fool.”
Her, after the reveal: “At this point, I hope you get eaten.”
Eric Robert Nolan, Author 