Fridays used to be glorious until I found out that the ancient origins of the word “Friday” happens to be “Fry-day” as in “day that innocent people were burnt as offerings to the gods.”
Now I spit on you, Friday.
But since I never had anything to do with public burnings and since I don’t plan on getting involved in public burnings anytime soon (at least not until the Officially Sponsored Armageddon) — I have decided to reinstate WFME’s wonderful “Words For Your Enjoyment.” That’s where you supply the idea, I write it, and we all forget about the witch trials and the drownings and yes…the burnings.
And this week — things just happen to get even more exciting.
[An explosion rocks a city street. Man #1 narrowly averts the blast, falling to the ground. Man #2 runs to his side.]
Man #2: “Are you OK!?”
Man #1: “I… I…”
Man #2: “Look at me! FOCUS! Are you OK?”
Man #1: “Wha-? What happened?”
Man #2: “That oil refinery plant just exploded! It blew you thirty feet in the air and you landed here. I saw everything! Are you OK?”
Man #1: “I… I think so.”
Man #2: “What do you mean, you think so?”
Man #1: “I mean, I think so. I’m not 100% sure, but I’m pretty sure.”
Man #2: “Are you bleeding?”
Man #1: “Doesn’t look like it. Do you see any blood?”
Man #2: “No. No blood.”
Man #1: “But I could have internal injuries, right?”
Man #2: “Do you hurt…inside?”
Man #1: “Sometimes, when I feel alone. Yes.”
Man #2: “NO. Do you have any internal injuries that you can feel?”
Man #1: “I don’t think so.”
Man #2: “So, you’re OK then.”
Man #1: “I think so.”
Man #2: “Can you just commit and tell me that for sure, 100%, you’re OK so I can go?”
Man #1: “I’m not sure, though. Not 100%. What if I say I’m 100% sure I’m okay and then suddenly I die. If I keep you here and then I suddenly take a turn for the worse, at least you’ll be here to help me.”
Man #2: “So…you being unsure that you’re 100% OK is more a needy thing than anything else?”
Man #1: “Yeah. So I’m needy. Sue me.”
[Man #2 sighs. Man #1 winces. Somewhere else, another EXPLOSION rocks the city street and Man #3 is blown to within feet of Man #1 and Man #2.]
Man #2: “OH MY GOD. Are you okay?”
Man #3: “I..I.. I think so.”
Hoo boy, I’m nervous just typing this one out.
That’s because one of my most traumatic experiences in life involved going to a restaurant/bar where I came face to face with a real life chin-implant force-feeler. And of course you’re asking yourself, what in God’s name is a chin-implant force-feeler? What could such a label mean for a real person? Why is Pauly so afraid of such people and why would it cause such traumatic memories for him?
In a nutshell, a chin-implant force feeler is someone who insists that everyone they know (or don’t know) touch, press and feel their most recent implant…which just happens to be inside of their chin.
“Nggggggttttthhhh. Nggggggggggggggghhhhttttthhh. Ngh? Ngggggggttttthhhhhh. Eh? Mm. Nggggggggtttttttthhh. Uh? Mmm uh. Nggggggth. Ah! Uh. Uhhhhhh. Nggggggth. [Random keypad tones.] Nggggggggtttttttttttth. Mm? Mm. Eccccchhhhhhht. Nggggggggggtttth.”
Welcome to the premiere edition of WFME’s Fruit Retirement 2007!
That’s where we take a look at the fruit landscape (or frandscape as we have dubbed it) and retire a fruit that we feel is only enjoyed by old people (i.e. prunes and prune juice) and thus is never consumed by the younger set of society, and therefore must be retired, removed and completely eradicated from the landscuit (our other way of dubbing the fruit landscape in clever word rearrangement).
Today, that fruit is the grapefruit.