Call me, TLC

TLC’s show “Sex Sent Me to the ER" is great. I think we can all agree it’s a horrible name for a TV show though. Here are some alternate titles I’ve created that are better:

  • "Baby, I Think I Broke My Dick. Go On WebMD."
  • "Has My Vagina Always Looked Like That? Get A Nurse On The Phone"
  • "Start The Car, My Dick Is Bleeding"
  • "I’ve Lost A Nipple, Let’s Go To Urgent Care"
  • "I Think I Put It In The Wrong Place, We Need A Doctor"
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I will remember you

SCENE: kitchen, at night
Girlfriend: When's the last time you checked your phone?
Me: I don't know, it's been an hour maybe?
Girlfriend: Check it. I texted you.
Me: Why the hell would you do that? I'm right here.
Girlfriend: That way I have a record of what I said to you, and then I can use it when you tell me you didn't remember me saying certain things to you.
Me: Wow.
Girlfriend: Go check.
I walk over to my phone.
Me: Ok, this says, "We should break up and you should lose my number."
Girlfriend nods.
Me: What makes you think I wouldn't remember this?
Girlfriend: You keep calling me your girlfriend even though I sent you that text a week ago. And I have no idea how you got in my kitchen. I didn't let you into my house.
Me: Baby, you wanna watch a movie tonight?
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Dating gets weirder as you get older. It took me a while to realize that when my girlfriend said she wanted me to meet her parents, that meant we were going to the graveyard.

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I’ve been married seven times. It was the third woman who broke me. Melba was her name. I met her at a blackjack table in Vegas. I couldn’t see her through all the smoke, and I’m pretty sure she was high on pills when she agreed to marry me.

Don’t get the wrong idea, we didn’t get married in Vegas the night we met. We had a five year relationship that ended when she decided she didn’t want to have kids, and that wasn’t going to work for me.

It’s not enough for me to emotionally ruin my woman, I need to also feel like I’ve ruined a young person’s future. That’s the legacy I want to leave the world. Far in the future, I want another damaged person to run around and fuck shit up. And if she wasn’t going to give birth to anything, what was I going to do, go to a Boys & Girls Club and ruin some poor kid there? Sounds like a lot of work.

So she left.

They all leave, but Melba left me in the worst shape.

Goddamn you, Melba. Goddamn you. I should’ve known it wasn’t going to work when she told me to surrender on 16. The dealer had a 3, Melba. All you had to do was sit there and wait for the dealer to bust.

There’s no need to surrender, Melba. Let the cards be dealt, honey.

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Why do you want to live?

I was watching this TV show last night where a gunman holds an entire restaurant hostage. He puts his revolver to the head of a random guy and goes, “Why do you want to live?”

And the guy goes, “Because I don’t want to die.”

And the gunman replies, “Other than that.”

And the guy couldn’t come up with a reason.

When the show ended and I had time to think about it, I wondered what my response to that question would be. Why do I want to live?

I’ve figured it out. I want to live because I have so much more masturbating left to do.

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Sometimes I just really miss the soothing sounds of Savage Garden.

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I just saw a headline on Rolling Stone that blew me away. It was “Beyonce: Gender Equality is a Myth.”

I then scrolled down the page and saw these equally shocking headlines:

  • "Rihanna: Let’s Talk About Gender Performativity"
  • "Lady Gaga: I Have A Lot To Say About The Archaic Connectivity to The Maternal and The idea of a Demeter-Persephone Complexity"
  • "Taylor Swift: We Should All Read The Position Paper Entitled ‘Effects of Stereotypes About Feminists on Feminist Self-Identification’ From The Psychology of Women Quarterly
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I’m calling this “Back of a Butchershop at Dusk, Denver, CO, 2014”

I’m calling this “Back of a Butchershop at Dusk, Denver, CO, 2014”

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Every day is a goddamn cheat day

SCENE: dinner at a BBQ joint
Friend: So how're your workouts going?
Me: Good. I'm going every other day like clockwork.
Friend: How're you gonna eat this BBQ tonight? Is it your cheat day?
Me: A cheat day? Motherfucker, I eat what I want every day.
Friend: What? Why even bother working out if you're not gonna be ripped?
Me: Because working out feels good. You think I work out to get sweet abs? You think anyone gives a shit that you had a six pack at your funeral? I'm going to eat pasta and bread until the day I die. Fuck your P90X and your Crossfit and your THX 1138.
Friend: I think that last one was a George Lucas movie.
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I’ve had the Dave Matthews Band song “Too Much” stuck in my head all morning, and that is a fate I would not wish on my worst enemy.

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