Some girls strip to pay for college, but Candy did it the other way around.
Growing up, she wasn’t much to look at, so she put everything into learning, studying and getting good grades.
She graduated early at the top of her class, and she burned through college, grad school, and her PhD like an academic wildfire.
There wasn’t an academic journal published without a research paper by her, and it didn’t take long before she earned her Nobel Prize.
“Thank you,” she said, and she called a plastic surgeon.
She looks like a million kroner now.
Brains and body.
Tag: cliche
Let there be light again
God watched as Eve handed the apple to Adam again.
STOP! He shouted.
Everything stopped.
God wiped His brow and growled.
“Why do they keep doing this?” He said, picking up the humans and tossing them into a universe. “No matter what I do, these idiots keep defying me.”
“Beats me,” said the llama. “If you’re finished, can you turn me back into a snake, please?”
God snapped His fingers, and the llama became a walrus.
“No,” said God. “We’re starting from Day Six.”
He reached into the mud, pulled out some clay, and shaped up another Adam to test.
Fair Trade
This morning, I asked the girl at the coffeeshop what “Fair Trade” coffee means.
She had no idea.
So, I asked her what “Unfair Trade” coffee would be.
“Oh, that’s easy,” she said. “The coffee distributor makes the grower’s negotiator stay at the airport in a room next to the ice machine so they can’t get any sleep. Then, they give them the sucky chair in the conference room, the one with broken springs and not enough padding. Oh, and they offer them sodas and coffee, but the bathroom door’s locked when they need it.”
I smiled… and ordered tea.
Walk away from a fight
I always found it hard to walk away from a fight.
Now, I have a hard time walking.
I always found it hard to talk my way out of a fight.
Now, I have a hard time talking.
I always found it hard to think my way out of a fight.
Now, I have a hard time thinking
I always found it hard to work my way out of a fight.
Now, I have a hard time working.
I always found it hard to walk away from a fight.
Now, I have a hard time walking…
Talking…
Thinking…
Working…
Fighting.
Elegantly
Lying in his hospital bed, Albert Einstein, the smartest man in the world, was dying.
He coughed, smiled and told the doctors “I want to go when I want. It is tasteless to prolong life artificially. I have done my share, it is time to go. I will do it elegantly.”
They nodded respectfully and left the room.
The next morning, he was dead.
Nobody knows Albert Einstein’s last words because he spoke them in German, but the nurse at his bedside only spoke English.
However, I suspect he was saying “Get that pillow off of my face, you bitch!”
The Caged Bird
I don’t know what that Maya Angelou is getting on about, but she’s so full of shit.
I know the real reason why the caged bird sings: it’s a trick.
If you look closely, the bird’s stuffed. And when it sings, the beak doesn’t move. (It’s broken)
The singing came from a tape recorder built into the perch. Look. See it?
The switch is here on the electrical cord.
So that’s why the caged bird sings.
Why it sings Van Halen’s 1984 album? Because, I like classic Van Halen.
And I lost the bird songs tape that came with it.
The Ghost Shouter
I don’t watch much television these days, but there’s this show I used to like called “The Ghost Whisperer.”
Some chick with big tits sees ghosts, talks to them, resolves their issues, and convinces them to head off into the light so they can move on.
If the producers were really serious about getting ghosts to move on, they could have gone with Gilbert Gottfried, though.
Anybody who talks to him for more than a minute, ghost or not, would be running for the light regardless of how fucked up their shit was or any leftover business here on earth.
Loathing
Every morning when I wake up, I look in the mirror and I don’t like what I see there.
So, to save time and effort, I just signed a contract to outsource all of my self-loathing to India. The entire city of Mumbai now despises me for me.
They send me a daily report through email, with the occasional critical updates via text message to my phone.
This frees me up to focus on loathing everybody and everything else.
I’d outsource my self-righteousness to them, too, but they can’t possibly do as good a job at it as I can!
Imaginary Friend
Most kids have imaginary friends.
I had an imaginary theater critic.
He’d go on and on about Broadway flops and the Tony Awards, or the latest Sondheim production.
I’d yell at him to shut the hell up.
We lived in Iowa. We never went to Broadway.
We didn’t go to the movies or watch plays on television, either.
I never tried out for plays in school because I was homeschooled.
I thought about trading with my friends for their imaginary friends, but I didn’t have any.
Because I was homeschooled, and my only friend was Bert, raving about South Pacific.
Baskets
Mom told me not to put all my eggs in one basket, so I put then in two baskets, one hanging from each hand.
As I walked to the market, The Evil Basket Thief jumped from the bushes and blocked my path.
Oh crap. Not again.
“Ohhhh, what lovely baskets!” he chirped, rubbing his hands together. “I think I’ll take them both and add them to my collection!”
I sighed, put down one of the baskets, and drew my pistol.
“Uh oh,” said The Evil Basket Thief.
Dad told me not to put all my shots into the target’s midsection.