I saw Rebecca, my ex-girlfriend, the other night. Gee, it was so nice to see her and what she looks like now and to touch her and just think about the old days, and I don’t really see why there had to be all that fuss about with the police and authorities and stuff. I mean, hell, no-one was interested when I offered to pay for the exhumation.
I was going to fill in a subscription form to ‘Psychic News’, but then I figured, wait a minute, they ought to know I want it.
Practical jokes are great, aren’t they? And I don’t even think it’s actually illegal to do this: I’va stipulated in my will that I want to be cremated, not buried. And just before I die I’m gonna swallow as many firecrackers as I can.
I think they should make dictionaries easier to use. They should include an index.
Pens work just fine, don’t they? I don’t think we really need pencils at all. I think it’s just a huge con perpetrated by the people who make pencil sharpeners.
They call it wallpaper, but frankly, once I’ve paid for it, I think it’s up to me where I choose to put it.
I’m very disappointed that you can try all you like, but you can’t make any other word out of the letters in ‘anagram’.
I was watching a 1983 movie the other night, ‘Flashdance’, starring Jennifer Beals. This was about an incredibly beautiful young girl who works as a welder by day, but at night she goes back to her huge loft-style apartment with an empty floor about half a mile long where she practises her fantastic dance moves, because that’s her passion, see? And she wants to get into ballet school but she doesn’t have the right training but then at the audition she stuns the panel with her incredible, original, dazzling mix of athletic jumps and crazy moves and so they let her in anyway. And just towards the end there was this scene where the boom microphone crept into shot, and for me that killed the realism.