Today is the two year anniversary of Mitch Hedberg's death:My friend said to me, "You know what I like? Mashed potatoes." I was like, "Dude, you have to give me time to guess. If you're gonna quiz me you have to insert a pause."
I was walking down the street with my friend and he said "I hear music." As though there's any other way you could take it in. You're not special. That's how I receive it too. I tried to taste it, but it did not work.
Alcoholism is a disease, but it's the only one you can get yelled at for having. 'Damn it, Otto, you're an alcoholic.' 'Damn it, Otto, you have lupus.' One of those two doesn't sound right.
3 comments:
"The depressing thing about tennis is no matter how good I get, I'll never be as good as a wall. I played a wall once. They're fucking relentless."
I got an oscillating fan at my house. The fan goes back and forth. It looks like the fan is saying "NO." So I like to ask it questions that a fan would say "NO" to! Do you keep my hair in place? Do you keep my documents in order? Do you have 3 settings? LIAR! My fan fuckin' lied to me. Now I will pull the pin up. Now you ain't saying shit...
I wrote a letter to my dad. I was gonna write, "I really enjoy being here," but I accidentally wrote "rarely" instead of "really". But I wanted to use it, I didn't want to cross it out, so I wrote, "I rarely drive steamboats, Dad -- there's a lot of shit you don't know about me. Quit trying to act like I'm a steamboat operator. I know this letter took a harsh turn right away... Hello Dad."
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