(no subject)

Give me some money.

(no subject)

I don't feel like doing anything, man, especially after going out for lunch. I want to go sleeping this day now. But I have determined that Winona Ryder's prison bitch name is Cream of Meat.

(no subject)

It drives me crazy when people talk about what a kick-ass band they must have in heaven. "John Bonham, Jimi Hendrix, Scuzzy Cliff Burton, Janis Joplin, and Liberace are probably havin' one awesome jam session up in the good place!" I mean, OK, so maybe playing music is just about the best thing you can do on this earth, but even if you do believe in heaven, isn't it kind of lame to imagine that we're going to be doing exactly the same things in heaven that we do on earth?

"Boy, they're going to have one hell of an accounting department in hell. Phil Ledbetter and Irving Schlonzborg are gonna be crunchin' the numbers for Satan, boy!"

(no subject)

Speaking of heaven and hell, I just have to post these again. Sorry if you've seen 'em before. They're my favorites.

(no subject)

*preliminary banter snipped*

State Farm flunky: Mr. Heller, do you think that in these uncertain economic times that you might benefit from speaking with a financial planner?

Chris: No, I consult psychics.

Flunky: *cough* What?

Chris: I consult psychics, read tarot cards, and have my skull read by phrenologists.

Flunky: Well, that's a first. . . . I don't think I've ever heard that one before.

Chris: I'm a unique individual.

Flunky: Well, just in case the cards don't work out, blah blah blah blah?

Chris: No, thank you.

*click*