I think before giving me a credit card, they should have given me a math test. A series of story problems. “If Maria’s boyfriend is in a folk band but he only smokes pot every other day, what percentage of the rent will he be able to contribute?” Now I thought 50%. But the answer is zero.
I’ve never really thought of myself as depressed as much as paralyzed by hope.
I’ve been fired a lot. I prefer to call it just another stop on my Burning Bridges Tour.
Have you ever seen somebody order in this country? That’s when you realize maybe we have too much freedom. “Yeah, quick question about the coffee: is it organic? OK. I don’t want it. I don’t want it. I’d like to have a cup of boiling hot water. Boiling. Boiling. With Ice. And I don’t want the ice to get all tiny.”