On a more serious note, to the dad from New Jersey smoking a cigar while pushing your daughter in a stroller: Will you be my muse? You pushed me to the next level. After I judged your behavior, I was in the zone. Nobody and nothing was getting passed me.
First the bad news... I don't think I'm going to do a fourth series of The Ricky Gervais Show. 39 episodes is more than I've ever done for any other project (Yes. I know that's pathetic but trust me.) and I don't want to push my luck.
These songs have become inevitable parts of the average Singaporean existence, and although they may not always succeed in inspiring the oomph and patriotism that they set out to achieve, one thing's for sure: it's always good for a laugh. Or at least a facepalm.
The Internet has turned into a Roman coliseum where everyone watches people fight it out; who will get the thumbs up or the thumbs down? People need comedy, but much of what's left online is the total opposite.
Last week, every single GOP Senator voted against the Paycheck Fairness Act, an act that would make it hard for companies to continue to practice pay discrimination, which is a thing where companies pay women less cause they have teet teets and a nana.
Walking to the bathroom mirror, I stare deeply at my face. What would I change about it if I could? Then it occurs to me that my unstable and borderline psychotic alter-ego might be interested in a very large, plush and cushiony new forehead. Time to go shopping for my new face!
Director John Shepphird took upon himself the difficult task of capturing the jouissance that exists in the atmosphere of the Jersey Shore, while remaining loyal to the very sinister and real danger that white-finned killer albino sharks truly present.
My younger brother Denny and I fought constantly growing up. Denny was smart, athletic and always got what he wanted... At least that's how it seemed. I guess it's normal to feel that way about your own brother; especially if he's a total ass hat.
Many years before I became the world-weary bon vivant you love to love, I was a seeker of the dark and mystic arts. It was in those great nomadic travels of my youth that I happened upon the legend of the Ming Joint.
Hey, MasterCard. Remember how you sent me that bill? And then the other one? And the one after that? The really mean one? And remember how I told you that I was good for it, but that you'd have to wait until January? Well, here's the thing. There's a bit of a wrinkle in the plan.
The MacBook on which this letter is being typed is on its last legs. It has been a fine four years -- if you don't count the past six months, in which time my computer has slowed down to a speed that's only comparable to that of my Grandpa Teddy in his powder blue Cadillac.