I was listening to the song, Desperado, and I felt that Linda Ronstadt was singing directly to me, so I said, “Thanks, Linda” and she didn’t answer which I thought was SO RUDE.
I had “Short Man Syndrome” for many years. I realized that I was cured of it one day when I hit my head on the top of a door frame…
“You KILLED my husband”, she shouted, “You’re the reason he’s DEAD”.
“You can’t say anything to me that I haven’t already said to myself”, I replied, ruefully.
“Caramel grasshoppers greet the French”, she said.
I guess I was wrong…
“The police are coming”, she told me, “I want you to tell them that you’ve been here all along… oozing out of that tree”. “No way!”, I exclaimed, “I won’t play the sap for you”
Of all the mysteries I’ve ever had to solve, none was so confounding as the human heart… and who left it on the hood of my truck… and why…
Out of everyone, I think that Bill Murray is the one most qualified to write his autobiography.
When all you have is a hammer; and, every problem you see looks like someone you’d like to smash with that hammer.
It’s only when we see ourselves as others see us… from the outside… that we realize the acid has finally kicked in…
I’m getting tired of paying my tax bill with iTunes gift cards.
It isn’t how many times you are knocked down that matters. What matters is how many times you GET BACK UP. If that number is more than four, you are definitely an idiot.
I am my own worst critic and that is SO STUPID OF ME!