hot rod

Hot rodding will get you everywhere.

You will again relay the story of a dinner past, the one you have relayed a thousand times, but again, noone will be paying any attention.

You will spill out onto the street with music guiding your feet.

You will give thanks for the peace and quite from thew normally noisy neighbours. In fact you will call them on the phone and say, "HEY!!!!! Thanks for nothing."

Your potatoes are burning in the oven.

You will wear red in the next week, and it will scare a small child.

You will wear out your welcome. . . . . . . . . Matt.

You have nothing to say about the world, yet you will blab on and on.

You will be busy breaking up perfectly matched sweaters and ties.

Sir, your ozone seems to be depleted.

You lost something so precious and irreplacable that your life could never be the same without it, but not to worry, it goes on sale next week at the mall.

If you go through life thinking that everyone is a fricking idiot, you'll probably be sorely disappointed. And you'll probably never really see how great some of the people around you really are. . . you frickin idiot.

Every day that you wear white after labour day you will pay dearly for the cleaning bill.

No matter how high the hill, or how low the valley,
No matter which window's slam in your face,
No matter how many times you fail
'Keep opening doors'
It is the only way to find where you should hang that wreath.

You will need surgery if you keep sitting on that funny bone.

You will need a drink if you keep talking with your mouth open.

You have many friends, but none of them are brave enough to tell you the truth about your behind.

Your frail funny bone will suffer a fracture Friday in a frantic fanatical fiasco.

Rocks are people too.

If you live your life guided by thrills, you might end up taking huge pills.

Go easy on the eyes.

Spare me my ribs.