I don’t wanna see the new Terminator movie.
For many reasons, number one of which is they spelled “Genesis” like that, you know?
But then it’s like, wait, is that Arnold Schwarzenegger meeting a young Arnold Schwarzenegger? (Finally! We’ve put the technology to good use, because WHAT’S COOLER THAN THAT?!)
Wait, what’s that you say? My favorite living actor J.K. Simmons is in the movie? You’re right! That is cooler than two Schwarzeneggers! That’s way cool! It’s the coolest!
Ugh, it’s almost like I want to see this movie now, but I really, really don’t because it’s, like, what? A prequel? An alt-universe story? And that’s totally not Linda Hamilton, and her hair totally doesn’t look ’80s enough. And John Connor is a Terminator now? Wha? I don’t even under — and, wait, did Arnold Schwarzenegger just say “I’ll be back?”
So I ran into this woman who’s known me since I was in college. She looks at me and says: “You just don’t age!”
Later, I said to my daughter: “Why didn’t I tell her ‘You should see this painting I have hiding in my closet?'”
And then my daughter rolled her eyes.
This weekend, I bought a new car. (Well, not brand new. I’ve never owned a brand new car in my life, but it’s 12 years newer than my poor little jalopy, so it’s new to me!)
My father had some good advice for keeping it in good shape:
“Go around the pothole in the road. Don’t drive through it.”
Hold onto your hats, everybody, because there’s a new Jurassic Park movie coming out!
That is so exciting! We needed a new Jurassic Park movie! It’s not like there’s been at least several already made!
Now that all that phony enthusiasm is out of my system, I’d like to address my most pressing complaint about Jurassic World (other than that why do we need a new Jurassic Park movie, I seriously don’t get it): Chris Pratt as the heir apparent to Harrison Ford.
I get that he’s cute and charming, I guess, but I can’t tell him apart from the other half-dozen guys who look just like him.
Maybe I need to see a movie that he’s in. Maybe that would help. Can someone tell me what movies he’s in? Because I don’t think I’d recognize him without help.
Dear Bob Belcher,
You are my perfect man. I mean, except for the mustache. I really don’t like mustaches. Unless they’re connected to a goatee, or even a nicely trimmed beard. But you are kind of funny-looking without the mustache, so … you are my perfect man.
I love how accepting you are of your family’s strange behaviors. And they’re all strange. Especially Tina. And Gene. Also Linda. But not Louise, because Louise is perfect.
I love how you’re a hamburger chef, because sometimes, Bob, I don’t feel like making dinner. Sometimes, Bob, I get home from work and I don’t want to make dinner at all. So we could have hamburgers! Or something! You like cooking, right? You would make dinner for me, right?
I love how you always try your best, and also how when you talk to inanimate objects, you make them talk back. That’s so endearing! In fact, lately I’ve started talking to inanimate objects and having them talk back. It’s probably because I love you so much, or because I watch too much TV and am easily influenced.
I love how you get along with all your neighbors, except for Jimmy Pesto, because he’s a jerk, and that mean old lady from the arts and crafts store. She’s really mean! You’re totally in the right not to like her! And I support you in that, even if it means I wouldn’t be able to buy crafting supplies. But why would I need crafting supplies when I have the love of a good man who once accidentally made out with his sister-in-law?
So, Bob, if anything happens to Linda — and not that I want anything to happen to Linda, God, no, I love that woman, and I would never, never push her in front of a car just to propel you into early widower-hood — I’d like you to keep me in mind. We could double-date with, I don’t know, Marshmallow.
A thing I didn’t realize is that NCIS (that CBS show about, I don’t know, military crimes or something — you know, the one that’s basically CSI [which was basically Law & Order, only with “law” and no “order”] with a goth chick?) has a devoted fan base who are willing to purchase (and wear!) NCIS tee-shirts.
But then I saw someone wearing one this weekend, and now I’ve learned a new (and useless!) thing.
I have a new favorite saying now.
“Don’t let the camel get his nose under your tent wall, or he will break your tent.”
Isn’t that just so unrelentingly stupid? I love it! It’s the dumbest saying I’ve ever heard. I found it in a brilliant letter to the editor in our local paper, from this guy who is worried his children will grow up to be open-minded and tolerant if they’re led by gay Boy Scout leaders, and not ignorant and bigoted like he is.
“I don’t want my children learning the ways a gay man would teach them. I want my boys to grow up to be men, not someone who is confused about his gender,” says this guy, who is an idiot.
He also goes on about the gay agenda, and camels, and tents. He wraps up his letter with this: “Scouting has let the camel in.”
I’m so excited that if I wasn’t at work, I’d be literally squeeing myself with joy!
Universal Studios is going to restore FIFTEEN WHOLE SILENT MOVIES! FIFTEEN! That’s way more than you would expect, because who watches silent films anymore except for me? (Well, and my daughter, because I make her.)
The only way I could be happier is if I finally finished my time machine so I could go and meet Buster Keaton.
I lied. There’s actually only one unicorn joke that I tell, and I shared it with my boss yesterday:
“How do you catch a unicorn?”
“How?” said my boss, looking worried.
“Unique up on it!”
“Ha ha,” he said.
“Do you get it?”
“Do you get it? It’s ’cause they both start with –”
“I get it.”
“– the same three letters.”
“I get it.”
“Yeah, I got it the first time.”
“Yeah, ’cause they start with the same three letters.”