I screwed up at work, sending out a business letter saying that the client “was eating her friend.” I forgot the word “with.”
Can’t believe how many friends I’ve retained through my bouts of manic in your face postings.
A friend doesn’t buy my contrite spirit and says I’ll be acting like Desmond again in no time.
Today I almost made it two hours without saying anything racist.
A broken and contrite heart you cannot despise.
I had such anxiety last night about reaping the whirlwind of my arrogant ways, I could not fall asleep before 4 am. I went to bed at 10 pm, used my Fisher Wallace, put on my CPAP, listened to Paul Johnson’s Modern Times for an hour (covering Stalin and Hitler), then took off my CPAP, gulped more magnesium, adjusted the open window, put on a Sam Glaser CD, then gave up after an hour and turned on my computer and gulped more magnesium and watched the two-part series on the Great Train Robbery, then I gulped more magnesium and listened to three Dave Barry CDs until finally gulping more magnesium, drifting off, up at 6:30 am, interviewed Byron M. Roth at 8 am.
I was sick all eight days of Pesach (and the two preceding days), feeling better now.
I’m jolly lucky I have inner peace. Think of the state I’d be in if I had an uneasy conscience.
I want to say that Mexicans are awesome car mechanics at a good price but I don’t want to sound racist.
I was such a mentch all morning and now I hear, “You’re back again. You can’t help yourself.”
“When do you want your last day to be?”
Luke: “The day Moshiach comes.”
Luke: “This delicious tea is more than I deserve.”
Friend: “You deserve a lot, you’re just mentally ill.”
Luke: “I should listen to you more often.”
Friend: “At the rate you’re going, you’ll only be able to listen to me on the radio.”
When I first check whether or not what I am about to imbibe has sugar/carbs/caffeine/meat/kosher etc, does that give off a strong masculine vibe that the ladies love? Many of my girlfriends have called me “precious.”
Is it against the law when you put out an ad for an intern and you ask for a picture and whether or not they’re single? Asking for a friend.
“You don’t have to answer the phone. You’re not up to broadcast quality.”
Some people around here won’t introduce me to their mothers because they fear what I might say.
Seeking a gig as a Chief Diversity Officer. I have letters of recommendation upon request!
Which babies have you found provide the most electricity per pound?
Coming to the end (in June) of 2.5 years with my current therapist. What grade would you give her? I was with another therapist, on and off, for ten years. I’ve never been fired by a therapist nor have I ever fired one. Best one was a gay goy. When I get rich, I’m seeking him out again.
When I get a mattress and my Russian bride arrives, I’m going to do great things for the Jewish people.
I fear I’ll never feel truly Jewish until I can become a victim of antisemitism.
I’m like a black rapper hoping someone will shoot me (non-fatally) to give me street cred.
I got fired from every job I ever held from sixth grade through tenth grade, then I was not hired back (Pacific Union College summer camp for kids) but I don’t count that as a firing, and then I got a horrible job evaluation (PUC custodial), and then I managed to quit my next few jobs until inappropriate speech/use of computer got me canned from several temp jobs 1995-1997… How was I to know that when you send a fax at this workplace (a news tip I sent to the LA Time about HIV infections in the entertainment industry due to certain practices), a copy of it is stored and printed out later and everyone would hand it around and snicker.
I prefer to gloss over the several acting schools that kicked me out and other centers of learning got very close to kicking me out.
I’m not very good at doing things I’d prefer not to.
At least I’ve not yet needed to cold-call people to sell them burial plots.
This black guy asked me in front of two hotties to see my full tzitzit. I raised my shirt and showed him. “Just so long as you don’t ask to see my circumcision,” I said. A loud racket ensued.
“That’s not my true self,” I protested. “I don’t know where that came from.”
“That is your true self,” said the young hottie. “That’s the problem.”
Do I strike you as marriage-minded? Future husband/father material? Can you see yourself making Jewish babies with me? Raising them up to Torah, kindness and marriage? Having seders with my family in rural Queensland? Will Seventh-Day Adventists dance at my wedding? Will my father give the dvar Torah? Separate seating?
I’ve never had a boss who liked me cracking a lot of jokes on the job, no matter how many he liked to make.
I try to greet everyone with a friendly countenance. I walk up and down Pico Blvd on Shabbos and say with a smile “Gut shabbos” to every yid and half the time, people don’t respond to me, and I always feel bad when this happens. Am I overly sensitive?
