first response pregnancy test – wrong.

I like to submit my writing to publications as often as possible, because rejection is fun and it’s good to be reminded how worthless I am on the regular.  Below is my most recent rejected submission – an “Open Letter” to the First Response Pregnancy Test Advertising Team – openly rejected by “Kelly the Intern” at mcsweeneys.net, because it just wasn’t her style. I’m sure she’ll be graduating high school this June in a beautiful gown from Forever21 and a toilet baby of her own. I hope you enjoy it more than she did!

*******

Dear FRPTAT:

I’ve noticed a disturbing trend in the procreative community. It seems to me that a number of its members, namely those with less than ideal parental (and might I suggest mental?) qualifications, decide to throw caution to the wind and condoms in the garbage and whoopsie, out comes a baby.

For example, teenagers are perhaps too busy basking in the glow of their own wildly miscalculated invincibility to worry about what might happen when they get busy with each other. Think Bristol Palin and Levi Johnston, Jamie Lynn Spears and her Barely Literate Baby Daddy, the drugstore cashier you run into at 3am when you are maybe searching for a pregnancy test yourself. Unsettling, I know! And as dedicated advertising professionals, I am sure you pay close attention to all the hottest, freshest television programs on the dial. Have you seen the Discovery Health Channel’s mesmeric reality series called “I Didn’t Know I Was Pregnant?” In an alarming twist of events, this program’s title is neither a metaphor nor is it a behind-the-scenes look at the making of a Wes Craven picture. It is actually a show about ladies who do not realize that they are with child until what they assume is a severe case of constipation turns out to be – well – not.

Know this, First Respondents. As a woman, I appreciate you doing all you can to help me know if I’m pregnant the second it happens. I don’t doubt that the blessed genii in your chemistry labs will soon afford me the ability to detect my pregnancy pre-fornication – perhaps several hours or even days before a future suitor and I consummate our regrettable one night stand!  Unfortunately, I’m not quite sure I have the same confidence in your advertising personnel, whom I believe are largely responsible for the above-mentioned pregnancy debacles.

Let me explain. I recently partook in an all-night television marathon, during which I binged on “The Real Housewives of New York City” and “Keeping Up With the Kardashians”. Picture it. There I am on the couch, methodically flipping back and forth between Bravo and E!, E! and Bravo, like a basic cable zombie. Your commercial appears on my screen, and it’s advertising your cutting-edge, rapid-detection, aptly named First Response Pregnancy Test. A lovely looking lady glides into the frame. She emits a kind of maternal sagacity that only those experienced in child rearing, and therefore stick-urination, could emit.  Whatever she says, I will take her word for it. I trust her. She looks intently into the camera, secures my attention, and tells me, “You know, there IS such a thing as being a little bit pregnant.”

Come again?

What?

No. No way, you deceptively sagacious, fraudulently maternal freak. There is actually no such thing as being a little bit pregnant. You are lying. Find me one doctor, one scientist, one woman in labor who can define what being just “a little bit pregnant” could possibly mean.

Listen, it may be the middle of the night, and I may be drunk off Robitussin and Linzer tarts, but I know a dangerous lie when I hear one. Thankfully, I am also not as dumb – ahem- uninformed as some of my counterparts whom I described to you earlier in my letter. You cannot tell a fourteen-year-old girl who grew up behind a meth lab in the barren New Mexico desert that it is possible for her to get just a little bit pregnant. No big deal, it’s cool, it’s just a little. Well, she saw your commercial and is now scheduled to give birth at someone’s junior prom. The woman who mistook her pregnancy for an irritable bowel? Let’s just say it takes a special kind of mother to confuse her birth canal with her back door. The kind of mother who thinks she’s either going to give birth to a boy, a girl, or a jellyfish.

Please stop airing this misleading commercial immediately. I am begging you. You are confusing stupid future parents everywhere. America is getting dumber and you are perpetuating the cycle- one urine-soaked stick at a time! I don’t know if you think this commercial is a funny joke, or if its production coincided with your copyeditor’s vacation. What I do know, FRPTAT, is that you may be the reason why our babies are dropping out of school and into toilets.

Yours truly,

redthnapper

my next mentor – wrong.

I see this billboard everyday. Everyday I do a triple take.

Uh, these people look like crackheads. The girl on the left in particular looks like someone recently rescued her from a sewer off Downing St. in Flushing, Queens. They definitely don’t appear to be people whom I should entrust as my mentor.

Dear William Paterson University – not interested.

i don’t think “shoehan” actually rhymes with lohan – wrong.

don't hate on my shoe-hans, bitch

No words.  No words.  Just laughing so hard I might poo-han my pants.

http://shoehans.wordpress.com

expressions that are WRONG.

I was going to try and racially stereotype the kinds of people who use empty, stupid expressions to try and describe some horrible going-on in their delusion of grandeur they call a life.  Unfortunately, it seems to affect all genders, races, and creeds.  Like AIDS. I hate this shit so much, and I may have said some/all of this already, but I’m just going to freaking tell you which expressions and slogans and whatever that make me want to rip your fat face in half.

1. “There’s a new sheriff in town!” Hey cowboy, this is New York City.  I’m pretty sure there’s no sheriff in town.  Unless of course you’re talking about the sheriff of shoving donuts in your fat mouth until they’re coming out your ears. If that’s your new sheriff’s post then full speed ahead, asshole.

2. “Sticking a finger in the dyke” WHAT? How could anyone say that with a straight face? When my boss said this to me, I had to ask my friend what the hell it actually meant, and when she told me, I decided that I don’t care.  I don’t care what it meant in 1942, before lesbians drilled holes in their doors and lumbered out of their closets.  Today, in 2009, it means finger-fucking a lesbian, and that’s all it means.  It’s so graphic that I can smell the salmon. Remember how in 1954, “gay” meant happy? Right, me neither.  The expression might as well be “Sticking the dildo in the chocolate starfish”, or “Sticking the cock in the vagina.”

3. “This pain-killer/oatmeal/condom is 25% more effective.” 25% more effective than WHAT? Like I’ve said a million times, I am no math superstar, but when you have a percentage, and it’s followed by something that means “greater than”, then you have to fucking say what’s on the other side. Is this pain-killer 25% more effective than banging a rock into my uterus until these cramps go away?  Is it 25% more effective than a full hysterectomy? Is your oatmeal 25% more effective than the leading brand at doubling as fake vomit? Is this condom 25% more effective as a water balloon than other kinds?

4. “There is such a thing as being a little bit pregnant.” Three words: No there isn’t.

5. “We gon’ take it to the next level.” Based on my evaluation of the kinds of people who use this one (i.e. P. Diddy, VH1 reality whores, Rachael Ray), I wouldn’t be getting too excited about this “next level”. The next level is like a fucking Dodge Neon, okay? I mean sure, great, you’re not scooting around town on your little sister’s big wheels anymore, but let’s not put the cart before the horse.

6. “Don’t put the cart before the horse.” I have never seen a horse pull a cart. Maybe a carriage. Oh and you know what happened when we put the “carriage” before the horse? WE INVENTED THE CAR, YOU DOUCHEBAG. Way to keep up with the times.

Oh and these are actually just brand advertising slogans, but it pretty much makes me think that planet earth is skyrocketing toward a black hole of total idiocy.

1. Oreida French Fries – “They’re not just alright-a, they’re oreida.”

2. Manwich Sloppy Joes – “You don’t have to be a man to love manwich.”

If we are paying advertising executives with anything other than a group death by stoning, then I demand we immediately cease and desist. Because they’re not just stupid, they’re fucking stupid.

word butchering – a heinous epidemic that belongs in Oregon Trail – wrong.

There are certain words in the English language that are frequently and egregiously butchered by idiots on a regular basis.  Every single time I go to write a post about two or three of these words, I hear two or three MORE words and I start spazzing out because I can’t F-ing TAKE IT. Despite the election of Obama and an honest attempt to exile Paris Hilton to the UK, I am quickly losing faith in the general American population. And I’m not even that smart – how do the top 2 or 3% of the American IQ pool not just give up completely and commit suicide? I used to think that being a genius or a crazy nerd came at the cost of having any social skills, but now I think it’s just that the amount of totally stupid morons surrounding them at any given second is enough to cause brain implosion. It’s probably safer for them to read archived articles about Calculus theories in a dark room than to interact with the sewage rot we call society.

Here are some words that people F up regularly. If you don’t have broccoli and cheese soup for a brain, you might want to have a drink before you read this list.

1. FLUSTRATING (frustrating)
2. FUSTRATING (frustrating)
3. MIS-CHEE-VIOUS (mischievous)
4. PREVEN”TA”TIVE (preventive)
5. AXE (ask)
6. IRREGARDLESS (NOT AN F-ING WORD – this one makes me violent)
7. PRODUC, EFFEC, CORREC, etc (Product, Effect, Correct)
8. JEWRAY (jewelry… I KNOW RIGHT????)
9. ORIENTATE (orient)
10. CONVERSATE (converse)
11. EXPRESSO (including half the F-ing dipshits who work at Starbucks)
12. MAYSURE (measure. Here’s a tip. Changing the pronunciations of things to make them sound “different” does not make anyone think you are smart. In fact, it does the opposite and also makes me violent.)
13. PITCHER (picture)
14. “I could care less” – I know this is a phrase but can you just take 5 seconds to think about the fact that when you say this, you are basically saying that you could care about something less than you already do and are in fact countering your own disinterest? WRONG.
15. “Mute” point. (Moot)

Anyway I have to stop this now, because in the last 2 hours I watched The Real Housewives of New York and I watched Lo from The Hills talk about polo shirts and korean tacos on Chelsea Lately. i.e. I’m brain-dead.

someone dropped a cookie where your brain is supposed to be – wrong.

I love junior high kids because they’re really stupid.  It’s also why I hate them.  Anyway I went to the Chelsea Lately blog (which is to date less riveting than I had expected) to read this post about burritos.  I love burritos and so does everyone else.  In fact, I had 50 hits on my blog yesterday just from people searching with the keywords “burrito” and “picture of burrito”.  So I was reading the comments and I found the below shining gem.  I mean, the suspense in this story can only be rivaled by a Dean Koontz novel and we’d probably see it on the next episode of Unsolved Mysteries if that shit hadn’t been canceled when I was seven:

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GARZA Fri, Mar 13, 2009, 4:53 PM

yea i get it. today at lunch my friends too my cookie that i bought. and i accused one of them and told them to give it back. she said she didnt take it and everyone sitting at the table said that i didnt bring a cookie with me back to the table. they told me to go get anoter one, and when i went to get up i found the cookie on the other side of the table. So i yelled “theres my cookie you ********* and they were like thats not yous thats someone elses cookie. the one who claimed it was her cookie said i could have it. so i told everyone sorry for accising them, and then they started laughing. I then realized that the cookie the girl gave me was mine. So eveyone loves hiding things from me haha. Its fun 

Is that not the most riveting real-life mystery you’ve ever read? I mean I just shat myself and I ALREADY READ IT. Someone get this chick a book deal. Or a front row seat in Mrs. Steinberg’s Intermediate Special Ed class.

selling m&m’s on the subway – wrong.

AHEM.

“Hieverybody, muh name is Je’CarryousJackson, and this is muhbrotherJamal.  We sellin m&m’s for $1.00. We ain’t sellin candy for no basketball team or no school trip, we sellin it to keep ourselfs off the street and not sell drugs. We bof got peanut M&Ms for $1.00.  Thankyouandhaveaniceday.”

AHEM.

Hi Je’carryous! Hi Jamal! How’s everything? I’m not going to be purchasing peanut M&Ms from you today, or ever, and here’s why.

1.  Boys, your logic is totally backwards! Although I would under no circumstances purchase anything from anyone with such poor grammar, I’m certainly going to be even more averse to your plea when you’re flat out telling me that you’re ripping me off!  I’m sure there are some guilty rich white people who might consider funding your alleged “basketball team” [cheesy no-karat gold bling] or “boy scout trip” [gang raping a drunk bitch behind the dumpster] or “groceries” [Newport 100s], but nobody is going to buy the second worst candy in the world from you for no reason! In fact, I can’t think of anything I care about LESS than keeping you off the street, except maybe helping LeAnn Rimes make a comeback.  I’d expect someone who went to 6th grade THREE times to have better business logic than this!

2. You’ve got to do a better job explaining the ways in which selling M&Ms on the subway is at all related to you staying off the streets. We all know you’re not going to college, and public school just happens to be 100% free of charge! Perhaps you might want to take advantage of that non-limited time offer and spend your time in a classroom instead of F-ing around on the train.  I think everyone knows what you’re going to do with the $17.00 you’ll make this afternoon, and unfortunately, the answer is not “buy condoms”.

3. Je’carryous.  Jamal.  Guys.  We’ve all spent many a morning in the corner bodega, waiting 30 minutes for a shitty egg white sandwich.  We’re all familiar with the look and feel of a wholesale, bought-in-bulk product versus the kind available for purchase to an average consumer like yourself.  I’ve been to many a Shoprite superstore and even those with the most heavenly of snack aisles do not sell gigantic cardboard boxes filled with bags of peanut M&Ms with wrappers that read “Not for individual resale.” You’ve get to get real – everybody on the train knows that you’ve jacked your product from the backroom of a deli.  How can you ask us to support your “staying off the streets” cause when you haven’t made any effort to prove to us that you’re trying to change? There’s a reason that you’re the ones on the train selling M&Ms, and everyone else isn’t… and the reason is that you are really, REALLY dumb.

stolen product

not a stolen product.

4.  I happened to notice that you both have on some very nice Nike sneakers.  Luckily, my good friend Cloff Hran has a horrifying obsession with sneakers, and therefore I am well aware that the combined net value of your footwear is somewhere in the neighborhood of $500.00 USD. Now, I’m not saying you stole them [which is actually exactly what I'm saying], but I have to tell you that if you can afford such luxurious kicks,  then I’m going to have a very tough time believing your schtick.  Your credibility is rapidly disappearing, my friends.  Think about it like this.   If I came up to you, and in my left hand was a box of expired wholesale M&Ms that I was trying to pawn off on you for $20.00, and I was holding in the other hand a check, made out to me, for $10,000- would you pity me and give me the 20 bucks?  Or would you say, “F dat bitch, she rich!” You’re incredibly slow-minded, so I don’t expect you to have followed the analogy, but what I’m saying to you is that you can’t have expensive things and then cry poverty.  It’s not consistent.

5. M&Ms cost $.85 cents everywhere else.  Even morbidly obese fools don’t pay retail for candy during a recession.

FRIDAY RANT – suburban cops who think they are headlining a national comedy tour – wrong.

I decided to spend the long weekend in my hometown/Jew-town in New Jersey, because it’s been a depressing week/year/life and it usually makes me feel better to surround myself with people who are 6 or 7 hundred times dumber than me.  So on Monday afternoon, I went to the local WaWa to get myself a sandwich and some donuts, and obviously I ran into a few local cops, who were just you know, hanging out. I hate stereotypes (HAHAHAJGFBTHRGN HAHAHA WRONG., I LOVE THEM),  but I’m pretty sure they were there for the donuts. These are the guys who can’t stop talking about the piece of shit tool shed they built in their backyard, run up $1,450 electric bills from October-March because of excessive Christmas decorations like light-up nativity scenes and wicker reindeer mannequins, and have wives with 12 inch acrylic french manicures that work in hair salons called “Style You Sexy” and “Hair Barn”. When you’re a cop in a town like mine, you’re pretty much off duty save for the 1 or 2 times a week when you have to respond to a noise complaint at Temple B’Nai L’Chaim because Aunt Roz tapped the red wine a little too hard at little Leonard’s bar mitzvah, and now she’s passed out in the bushes with the bottle lodged up her chocolate starfish. Every time I see a cop car put the sirens on, I’m just like calm down Officer White Trash, I’m sure Grandpa Herb and Cousin Gail can keep their eye on Roz until you get there.

But the thing I hate most about these suburban “cops” is that they think they’re F-ing hilarious comedians, when in fact I’ve taken shits that were funnier than their jokes.  For example, at WaWa, I ordered my chicken sandwich and brought the receipt up to the register, which was being manned by “Assistant Manager Jay”. AMJ was about 37 years old and a recent graduate of New Horizon’s 3rd grade special education class (after having repeated it thrice, because he couldn’t read the word “squirrel”.) I stood at the register for about 45 seconds, while AMJ perfected his enviable talent for simultaneously keeping one eye open and one eye shut while drooling and staring into space.  I stared at him for a little while, but I’m assuming the one eye he was keeping open was non-functional, or maybe the fact that he was cleaning his ear canal out with a watermelon Twizzler was contributing to some sort of rapid onset brain damage.  I don’t know. Anyway, I finally said “Hi, uh…can I pay?” And then all of sudden, I heard a cheesy Budweiser-coated Jersey voice boom “I don’t know, can you?…BWAHAHAHAAHA!” I turn around and of course, some fat-ass trashcan cop is standing there, lips crusted in powdered donut, laughing so hysterically you’d think he was watching Aretha Franklin try to climb a staircase.  I rolled my eyes and hoped he’d go away, but I should have known better. This bitch moved closer to my face and said “Actually, you know what?  Don’t pay! It’ll give me something to do!!!!!! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.” And then he gave AMJ a knowing glance as though they were two lovers with a dirty secret.  I waited 14 1/2 minutes for him to stop laughing at himself, and I said “WHAT a comedian. ” Anyone with 1/7th of a brain would have picked up on my sarcasm, but he didn’t!  He said “Yo I know! My buddies at the station tell me I should be a comedian!”, all serious and sincere.  Then he was like “I’ll give you front row tickets to my first show, honey.” Well this sent me over the edge. Luckily, I’ve gotten speeding tickets in almost every state on the East Coast, and at one point or another I decided to read up on the legal do’s and don’ts for dealing with a dumbass cop (i.e. can you punch them in the mouth, can you bribe them with bjs, can you tell them to suck it).  I consequently knew that there was no law against verbally expressing disagreement, so after staring at him blankly for a couple of seconds I said, “Sir, your buddies are setting you up for failure, and I would rather have front row seats to a live porno that involves a donkey, a taser and Barbara Walters.” Obviously he didn’t get it and as I was walking to my car, he yelled “Look for me on the stage, baby!” I yelled back, “Look for me throwing up in my mouth and not laughing!” I mean what is wrong with these people? Get real.

******************************************************

p.s. I went to high school in this same town with a dude who was really actually hilarious and went on to be a cop – I’d like to officially exclude him from this assault – sorry Jay Hoover….you are really f*cking funny.

Microsoft Word – Part 1 of 632 – wrong.

I take brain-crippling umbrage with Microsoft Word – even more so than I do with fat girls wearing knee high boots that don’t zip past their mutant calves, fish tacos, the Hamptons, and Hitler.  This program seems to have been dreamed up, built, edited and packaged by some combination of the following:

1. Low-functioning second grade special ed class in Des Moines, IA
2. Robots (but not GAY ROBOT, he’s really smart.)
3. Senior Citizens
4. Illiterates
5. Immigrants recruited on their first day in America
6. A panda’s asshole

There are so many problems in this ridiculous jackass program.  I am offended by it every time I use it, and the reasons are so infinite that I’m going to have break them up into separate categories.  I may have to break the categories into categories, and then hire a giant black man with a raging case of Chlamydia to ass-rape them one by one.

Problem 1: THE MICROSOFT WORD THESAURUS – FUNCTIONALITY & QUALITY CONTROL

Let me begin by saying that the quality and accuracy of word selection and synonym appropriation have undoubtedly heinous implications for the future of language.  This theory deserves its own tome, but I’m ADHD so here are some examples that made me launch my face through my screen:

1. I am moseying along, writing a paper, and I’ve used the word “information” three times on one page.  UNACCEPTABLE! So I type it into the thesaurus and what do I get?

I know that is hard to read so I will spell it out for you.  I type in “information”.  Microsoft Word gives me synonyms including “in order”, “in sequence”, “in a row”.  Uh…I don’t think so buddy.  The first time I tried this, I thought I was going brain-dead.  I didn’t get it.  What the hell.  You can’t say “This book includes great ‘in a row’”!  But after I readjusted the settings in my brain to process things like I would if I were a carnival guppy, I realized that they were giving me synonyms for “in formation.”  As in, in a line. What the F.  WHAT THE F. WRONGGGGGGG!!!! Don’t these people conduct focus groups or studies or brain waves? I would bet my face that if one assembled a group of 100 people looking up synonyms for the word “information”, less than ZERO of people in said assemblage would be looking it up in this ridiculous manner.  Appalling.

Here’s another Thesaurus insult that makes me want to find a giant cluster of Parisian pigeons, feed them Chipotle burritos and hold them over Bill Gates’ head for 3 hours. Microsoft thinks they are being so amazing by including keyboard shortcuts for popular commands, i.e. shift+F7.  Well stupid people are never amazing and this is no exception.  LISTEN UP. YOU MAY BE STUPID BUT I’M NOT.  LOOK WHAT HAPPENS WHEN I LEAVE MY CURSOR NEXT TO THE WORD I WANT TO LOOK UP, BUT AFTER THE PUNCTUATION MARK.

Do you see this BS? Are you serious? I WILL NEVER BE LOOKING FOR A SYNONYM FOR A MOTHER-F-ING COMMA. Get real. Don’t you have programmers?  Can’t you write a 2 line code so the thesaurus skips punctuation marks?  Must you remind me that there are “no results” for a comma?  These jackasses need to be tipped over like the oblivious grazing cows that they are, and then they need to be schooled up the choche with the front of my steel-toed boot.

vagaries – wrong.

I don’t think anybody claiming to have a three digit I.Q. should ever have to use a cliche to explain/expand on/clarify his/her thoughts. Cliches are the K-mart brand jeans of the English language.  This is in direct contrast to creative analogies, which are the dark-wash, raw denim Marc Jacobs kind that give me a 10-inch hard on every time I look at them on eluxury.com.  Cliches are $5.99 Georgi vodka in a plastic bottle; analogies are 10 liter bottles of Grey Goose with fresh lemon garnishes on the side. Cliches deserve no respect.

For example, let’s say you’re 45 years old, you have two stale-ass eggs left in your shriveled ovaries, and you’re telling your bored-as-hell therapist about how you want kids but you might be too old.  If I’m your therapist, and you say “My biological clock is ticking!”, I’m going to sucker punch you in the lower abdomen really hard, twice, and when you regain consciousness, I’m going to point to your black and blue ovaries, look you in the eye and say “WRONG.  Your clock is TOCKED, BITCH.” But if I’m your therapist and you say something like,

“You know how when you’re taking a multiple choice algebra test and you only have 2 minutes left but 5 questions to go? And how you could either not finish the test, or desperately guess at the answers, even though you know they’ll be wrong and ridiculous and it won’t really have been worth guessing? That’s how I feel about my fertility and the possibility for me to have a child.  It’s like, I’m so close to being too old that I could either just not have one, or I could start thrashing around in the sack with a bunch of loser men, and while I may end up having a child, it will probably be retarded or deformed and I’ll have contracted 3 kinds of chlamydia during the process.”

Now I know that was a little long winded, and I certainly won’t be able to increase your chances of having an unretarded baby, but at least I’ll know that the on switch in your brain is working.

HOWEVER - there’s something worse than cliches, and I don’t really know what to call them, so for now now I’ll just call them vagaries.  As in, ridiculous phrases that DON’T MEAN ANYTHING and are very often overused by reality show contestants and people who consider the Microsoft Word thesaurus to be their linguistic Jesus (and Oprah Winfrey their personal Jesus). Here are a couple of examples that really make me want to de-genitalize anyone who uses them:

1. “I have a zest for life.” It’s like listen bitch, zest belongs in one place and that’s inside my burrito.

2. “I’m going to take it to the next level.” First of all, you can’t make levels theoretical and expect anyone else to have any idea about what “level” you’re on now and what “level” is next.  It’s too vague! For example, if you’re in purgatory, then the next level may very well be hell.  Is that a direction you’re planning on moving toward?  I mean I know it is for me, but people like me don’t say stupid shit like “take it to the next level.”

3. “God works in mysterious ways.” Just, no.

4. “I don’t keep up with the Joneses.  I AM the Joneses.” I swear to mysterious ways-working God, EVERY SINGLE Bravo Real Housewife of Orange County, NYC, and Atlanta has said this.  If they’re the Joneses then I was keeping up with them by the time I was seven, and officially passed them at 7 1/2 when I graduated 1st grade and I learned to read 2+ syllable words.

5.  “My personal opinion…” Uh…is that your mouth moving buddy? Cuz if it is, then I’m pretty sure you don’t need to preface it with “personal”.  I see your fat slob lips shuffling around your moron face, I get it.  It’s yours.

6. “My vagina’s sagging and there’s nothing that can fix it -Point blank period!” Three random, stupid words that stupid people put at the end of their stupid sentences to add definition. It’s like okay fine, maybe I’ll just start choosing random words to add to the end of my sentences. “You’re a stupid twote. Calculator vodka sandwich!” “New Jersey is for lovers. Crabs Oxy Contin!”

Mysterious-ways working God, there are so many more, but I’ll save some for next week.  And please friends, contribute your own!