Jon Dawson: Carbonated cats at Christmas
“You mean the warm kind?”
“You mean the warm kind?”
“Every time I see a beautiful sunset or a demolition derby, I’m reminded of them.”
“I haven’t watched an NFL game since Tom Landry wore a Kangol.”
“At some point, I figured people would wake up and stop buying my terrible, terrible music, and I was just preparing for that day.”
If my pending patent for no-stick lip balm comes through, I may have enough dough to spring for a few pizzas.
“I’m tired of my friends ending up in the emergency room with their lips stapled together.”
One second everybody in the band was asleep in their bunks, the next they were shoulder-rolling down Vernon Avenue.
“By midnight she’ll be crawling around the lobby looking for enough change to get a cab back to her room at the YMCA.”
Every 30 seconds some cement-headed waste of space yelled out as if they were playing bingo at a Metallica concert.
The humidity was so high I saw two fire hydrants fighting over a dog.