A thousand tears may stain your face, but they do you not one bit of good.
Movie people all dress the same. You can spot them from across the parking lot at film festivals.
Everyone wants to be a star. No one wants to be the doorman.
The most dangerous man is the man who has lost everything.
Many people have great music in their heads. It's the getting it out so others can enjoy it that is the real trick.
I feel certain that if the Founding Fathers of the American Revolution could see their nation today they'd say "we risked our lives for that? No fucking way!"
I have the most generic face in the world. Everyone thinks they know me from places I've never been and things I've never done.
Hot women know they're hot, but when you see them out in public and they have that air of "I'm too hot for you" they become less hot. Or maybe I'm just bored with them?
The difference between an actor and a film maker is that actors stand around a lot trying to look cool. Film makers move around, with lots of activity, and don't really care if you notice them or not. They're doers, not posers.
The power flashing on and off, on and off, on and off, is far more annoying than when it just goes off and stays off until it's ready to come on again once and for all.
Nobody breaks up anymore. They just drop you from their friends on Facebook. How do parents these days handle a crying teenage daughter who says "Daddy, he dropped me on Faaaaacebook"??
Are microwave ovens technically really ovens? I mean, could you cook a roast in there?
I did a pathetic little workout the other day. Now my arms hurt like they're broken or something. How did I get to be such a girlieman?
Kroger grocery store has printed on my last receipt that I have 186 points for the month of March, but nothing as to what the hell that means or how I might find out. WTF?
The phone will always ring when you're home alone, pants around your ankles, on the toilet. Always.
People are calling my house, wanting to talk to Bertha. I tell them they have the wrong number. Then they yell at me, insisting that they most certainly do not have the wrong number and they know this for a fact because Bertha gave it to them herself. If I ever find out what Bertha's number is I'm going to call her at 2 am for a chat.
I'm thinking about grad school again. If I do go back, I'm going to make it a point to stop by the computer science department and shout into the classrooms, "hey you idiots, you're busting your asses for nothing! Go change your majors to finance so you can make big money with very little effort."
The end is near. It's not you, it's me.
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