love life

I’ve learned that you cannot make someone love you. All you can do is stalk them and hope they panic and give in.

I’ve learned that no matter how much I care, some people are just assholes.

I’ve learned that it takes years to build up trust, and only suspicion, not proof, to destroy it.

I’ve learned that you can get by on charm for about fifteen minutes. After that, you’d better have a big dick or huge tits.

I’ve learned that you shouldn’t compare yourself to others - they are more fucked up than you think.

I’ve learned that you can keep puking long after you think you’re finished.

I’ve learned that we are responsible for what we do, unless we are celebrities.

I’ve learned that regardless of how hot and steamy a relationship is at first, the passion fades, and there had better be a lot of money to take its place.

I’ve learned that sometimes the people you expect to kick you when you’re down will be the ones who do.

I’ve learned that we don’t have to ditch bad friends because their dysfunction makes us feel better about ourselves.

I’ve learned that no matter how you try to protect your children, they will eventually get arrested and end up in the local paper.

I’ve learned that the people you care most about in life are taken from you too soon and all the less important ones just never go away.

I’ve learned to say “Fuck ‘em if they can’t take a joke” in 6 languages.

Many years ago, a girlfriend of mine attempted to introduce “culture” into my dismal life, by taking me to our nation’s finest museums, art galleries and concert halls. I was genuinely impressed with her love of the arts, and made a serious attempt to learn, but I guess I forgot to mention to her that “creating humor” is ALSO an “art.”

On one journey to a nice art gallery, we marveled at a life-sized replica of the statue of the Venus de Milo. While staring at it, a museum guard strolled past us, his .38 caliber pistol secured inside his holster.

As he walked past the lovely statue of Venus, I couldn’t resist saying out loud, “DON’T SHOOT! SHE’S UNARMED!”

That was my LAST date with that young lady….

Collards is green
my dog’s name is Blue
and I’m so lucky
to have a sweet thang like you.

Yore hair is like cornsilk
a-flapping in the breeze.
Softer than Blue’s
and without all them fleas.

You move like the bass
which excite me in May.
You ain’t got no scales
but I luv you anyway.

Yo’re as satisfy’n as okry
jist a-fry’n in the pan
Yo’re as fragrant as “snuff”
right out of the can.

You have some’a yore teeth,
for which I am proud;
I hold my head high
when we’re in a crowd.

On special occasions,
when you shave under yore arms,
well, I’m in hawg heaven,
and awed by yore charms.

Still them fellers at work,
they all want to know,
what I did to deserve
such a purdy, young doe.

Like a good roll of duct tape
yo’re there fer yore man,
to patch up life’s troubles
and fix what you can.

Yo’re as cute as a junebug
a-buzzin overhead.
You ain’t mean like them far ants
I found in my bed.

Cut from the best cloth
like a plaid flannel shirt,
you spark up my life
more than a fresh load of dirt.

When you hold me real tight
like a padded gunrack,
my life is complete;
Ain’t nuttin’ I lack.

Yore complexion, it’s perfection;
like the best vinyl sidin’,
despite all the years,
yore age,it keeps hidin’.

Me’n you’s like a Moon Pie
with a RC cold drank,
we go together
like a skunk goes wtih stank.

Some men, they buy chocolate
for Valentine’s Day;
They git it at Wal-mart,
it’s romantic that way.

Some men git roses
on that special day
from the cooler at Kroger,
“That’s impressive,” I say.

Some men buy fine diamonds
from a flea market booth.
“Diamonds are forever,”
they explain, suave and couth.

But for this man, honey,
these won’t do.
Cause yor’e too special,
you sweet thang you.

I got you a gift,
without taste nor odor,
more useful than diamonds…..
IT’S A NEW TROLL’N MOTOR!!!!!!

Luv, from yor romeo

To share to whom it may concern:

I am hereby officially tendering my resignation as an adult. I have decided I would like to accept the responsibilities of an eight-year-old again. I want to go to McDonald’s and think that its a four star restaurant.

I want to sail sticks across a fresh mud puddle and make ripples with rocks. I want to think M&Ms are better than money because you can eat them. I want to lie under a big oak tree and run a lemonade stand with my friends on a hot summer’s day. I want to return to a time when life was simple.

When all you knew were colors, multiplication tables, and nursery rhymes, but that didn’t bother you, because you didn’t know what you didn’t know nad you didn’t care.

All you knew was to be happy because you were blissfully unaware of all the things that should make you worried or upset. I want to think the world is fair. That everyone is honest and good. I want to believe that anything is possible.

I want to be oblivious to the complexities of life and be overly excited by the little things again. I want to live simple again.

I don’t want my day to consist of computer crashes, mountains of paperwork, depressing news, how to survive more days in the month than there is money in the bank, doctor bills, gossip, illness, and loss of loved ones.

I want to believe in the power of smiles, hugs, a kind word, truth, justice, peace, dreams, the imagination, mankind, and making angels in the snow.

So…here’s my checkbook and my car-keys, my credit card bills and my 401K statements.

I am officially resigning from adulthood. And if you want to discuss this further, you’ll have to catch me first, cause, “Tag! - You’re it.”

Signed,
An Adult

Any fake phone number a girl gave you would automatically forward your call to her real number.

Nodding and looking at your watch would be deemed an
acceptable response to “I love you.”

Hallmark would make “Sorry, what was your name again?”
cards.

When your girlfriend really needed to talk to you during the game, she’d appear in a little box in the corner of the screen during a time-out.

Breaking up would be a lot easier. A smack to the ass and “Nice hustle, you’ll get ‘em next time” would pretty much do it.

Birth control would come in ale or lager.

You’d be expected to fill your resume with gag names of
people you’d worked for, like “Heywood J’Blowme.”

Each year, your raise would be pegged to the fortunes of the NFL team of your choice.

The funniest guy in the office would get to be CEO.

“Sorry I’m late, but I got really wasted last night” would be an acceptable excuse for tardiness.

At the end of the workday, a whistle would blow and you’d
jump out your window and slide down the tail of a
brontosaurus and right into your car like Fred Flintstone.

It’d be considered harmless fun to gather 30 friends, put on horned helmets, and go pillage a nearby town.

Lifeguards could remove citizens from beaches for violating the “public ugliness” ordinance.

Tanks would be far easier to rent.

Garbage would take itself out.

Instead of beer belly, you’d get “beer biceps.”

Instead of an expensive engagement ring, you could present your wife-to-be with a giant foam hand that said, “You’re #1!”

Valentine’s Day would be moved to February 29th so it would only occur in leap years.

On Groundhog Day, if you saw your shadow, you’d get the
day off to go drinking. Mother’s Day, too.

St. Patrick’s Day, however, would remain exactly the same. But it would be celebrated every month.

Cops would be broadcast live, and you could phone in advice to the pursuing cops. Or to the crooks.

Two words: Ally McNaked.

Regis and Kathie Lee would be chained to a cement mixer
and pushed off the Golden Gate Bridge for the most lucrative pay-per-view event in world history.

The victors in any athletic competition would get to kill and eat the losers.

The only show opposite Monday Night Football would be
Monday Night Football from a Different Camera Angle.

It would be perfectly legal to steal a sports car, as long as you returned it the following day with a full tank of gas.

Every man would get four real Get Out of Jail Free cards per year.

When a cop gave you a ticket, every smart-aleck answer you responded with would actually reduce your fine. As in:
Cop: “You know how fast you were going?”
You: “All I know is, I was spilling my beer all over the place.”
Cop: “Nice one. That’s $10 off.”

Faucets would run “Hot,” “Cold,” and “100 proof.”

The Statue of Liberty would get a bright red, 40-foot thong.

People would never talk about how fresh they felt.

Daisy Duke shorts would never again go out of style.

Telephones would automatically cut off after 30 seconds of conversation.