Thought.is

Let’s play a game. Are you ready? The rules are very simple.

I got wolf-whistled at the other day. Catcalled at? Wolf-whistled at? I had to call my friends to ask for the correct terminology. No one could give me an answer. Anyway, two girls were driving past me in a car, and one of them let out a long, low, sharp whistle, like Audrey Hepburn hailing a cab in Breakfast at Tiffany’s. …Wheet-whooot!

“Do you really think you could take a man as a slave, or pummel me with rocks, and still hope to retain your innocence?”

Eight Maids A-milking: This is the part of the song where I always start to forget the words, and just go with “Blah blah a-something!” Anyway, maids. Fine; nifty. Anything is better than birds. And when I think of a “maid,” I pretty much automatically think of low-grade, “Cinemax”-style soft-core historical porn, featuring girls in those black-and-white uniforms.

Whoa, it’s getting kind of Franco all up in here, am I right?

…The chemical in turkey is not what makes you sleepy. …But it’s cute that we had to make up an imaginary reason as to why we’d be sleepy after Thanksgiving. Because “traveling long distances, watching six hours of football, then eating three pounds of food, then having an excruciating hour-long conversation with your aunt” apparently wouldn’t qualify as a reason to be “sleepy” unless there was some sort of chemical explanation.

…If your sympathy is with the second-hand, the broken, then you will find a lot to sympathize with in this life. But then, this is part of the whole problem.

“…Speed is the last excitement left, the one thing we haven’t used up, still naked in its potential, the mysterious black gift that thrills the millions.”

The Halloween Walk of Shame is a uniquely odd experience, and I’ve talked to other people who have done it… To wake up, stinking of tequila, next to a half-dressed witch, and then you don’t remember her name… And then, in order to leave, you have to replace your ninja costume that you chucked on the floor last night. Well, it’s like layers of Who Am I? on top of layers of Who Am I?

To a hot girl at the bar after about five drinks: “…Mostly about sex and power. And about the lies that we all tell ourselves.”