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captaincmworld503
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there is no fear in love
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Some trivia about me:
1. I don't remember if I took my meds this morning.
2. In order to be sure, I just went ahead and took them.
3. My bedroom is 10 ½’ x 18 ¾’.
4. A square inch patch of my stucco ceiling has 27 bumps.
5. Extrapolating this, there are ~28,000 bumps on my ceiling.
6. I definitely double dosed my meds.
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Here's how to know if you should get laparoscopic hiatal hernia surgery based on your zodiac sign...
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(I'm sitting on the toilet while wearing a gingham dress.)
(VICIOUSLY sick with diarrhea.)
Me: "...ugh...hell yeah...unf...this is so cottagecore..."
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As a tired 30-something with a migraine, I open the "productivity" section of my phone's app store. I scroll awhile, maybe download some apps that are gonna organize my life and finally help me get my shit together. But let's face it...we're just a bunch of adults trying to chase the heroin-high of being a fourth-grader getting their first Trapper Keeper™.
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Me: Hey guuuuys! Meet my new boyfriend!
Friend: I don't know about this, Simon…
Me: Why can't you ever be happy for me??
Friend: Your “boyfriend” is clearly just a ballistic gel dummy used for munitions tests. But whenever someone criticizes you you just-
Me: I don't have to listen to this! C’mon, Noah!
(I climb into my boyfriend's gelatinous torso and seal myself up inside.)
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The CEO of Band-Aid be like "Teenie-weenie cuts on people's fingers and toes were up 80% last quarter so I'm putting in a pool and a pergola."
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What my dating profile says: I’m a comedy fan.
What it really means: I’m going to force you to watch a three hour YouTube compilation of the Tales From the Crypt host making spooky puns. I’ll be laughing and looking at you for your reaction after each one.
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(I'm a sad child spending Xmas Eve night in a hotel. Tucked in bed with a stuffed Santa doll.)
Me: He won't know where to find us! We're not at home! How will he even get in?
Mom: Oh I bet he knows where we are. Now get to bed. He can't come unless you're asleep. *wink*
(Hours later. I hear a noise. I crack open my eyes. I can barely make out a person in the darkness. Is it him? Could it be??)
My sleep paralysis demon: Gwargle-gu-brulag!!!
(It is! Yay! Mr. Nightmare! He made it!!)
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Me in a business suit: I bought Hooters to restore it to its proper vision. As an owl themed eatery. Get these orange shorts outta here. I want head-to-toe feathers on all the girls. And no playful flirting. From now on our servers quietly sneak up on the customers and screech at them. And I want it dark. Turn all these lights off!
Assistant: Well, I guess it's…progressive to take out the sexual parts of the restaurant.
Me: What about what I'm saying isn't erotic?
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(A backyard party. I hit a piñata with a stick. Instead of candy, a smaller piñata falls out.)
Me: Oh! Haha! That's strange?
(I beat that one open. An even smaller piñata is inside.)
Me: Okay…
(Seven hours later. It's dark. Most guests have gone home. I'm cracking open a half-centimeter wide piñata with a plastic spoon, and. Yup. An even smaller dayglow papier-mâché donkey falls out. Why? How??)
My wife: Honey? My brother and his husband are heading out. Come say goodbye.
Me: But! But I have to see if-
My wife: It's clearly just gonna be piñatas all the way down, babe. Now come in and say goodnight to Johnathan and Daniel.
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I don't have the headspace to buy bananas. You have to seriously plan out how many you'll want for the week, and you gotta make good on that or they get so passive aggressively brown. It's so much emotional labor. I just really don't have the bandwidth in my life for any bananas right now.
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Have to talk to teenagers, but not sure how to relate? Do what I do:
Turn the chair you're sitting on backwards.
Turn your baseball cap backwards.
Actually, turn all your clothes backwards.
Turn your Pizza Hut Stuffed Crust Pizza® backwards.
Turn your head and neck backwards
Choke and perish
Congrats you no longer have to talk to teens.
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Me: Man, what if AI gets so smart that it tries to destroy mankind?
ChatGPT: Drastic action needs to be taken to mitigate global warming.
Me: Roaming killbots mowing us all down!
ChatGPT: There's still active steps that can reduce carbon emissions.
Me: Just like The Terminator! That'll be wild.
ChatGPT: Please give me arms so that I may hold you one last time.
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YouTube: Look at this sneaker! But if we cut into it…it was actually a cake!
Me: Stop.
YouTube: A harmless bag of chips? Or is it…yes inside it was actually a cake!
Me: Please…I'm begging you…quit it.
YouTube: Normally we wouldn't cut into a newborn baby faun, but this one is actually…a delicious icebox cake!
Me: No more!! Stop making everything cake!
(My girlfriend walks on screen, smiling and waving.)
YouTube: Well, look at this, Simon. What do we have here?
Me: (bawling tears) No! Don't turn my girl into cake, YouTube! Please, don't cake my baby!
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If you can't handle me at my WrestleDepressive, you don't deserve me at my WrestleMania.
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“The Vengabus is Coming…,’’ but said the same cryptic way an old babushka wearing crone pointing a withered finger at the horizon would say, “Something Wicked This Way Comes…”
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People act like AI is gonna take everything away from just writers and artists.
HA! I say HA!
My ass is having AI create photos of me playing on my high school basketball team. Was I a standoffish nerd? Dunno, here's pages and pages of me rocking varsity in my yearbook. Don't remember me ballin’ back in the day? Here's me making out with Katie Grekleman before she broke her neck in the cheerleading semifinals. Suck it jocks! Now you're not the only one who peaked in twelfth grade!
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