-Sometimes, when I'm driving out of town and my music is too loud, I find I have to put my cell phone right next to my balls to feel the vibration. That's the exciting part. The awkward part is when I pick up the phone, forget to turn my music down, and have to explain to the other person that I'm not actually at a club, and I wouldn't have even known they were calling if it weren't for my balls.
-I hate when my friends say, “Hey, let's go to this one bar, I know the bartender and he'll hook us up with free drinks!” and then the tab comes out to the same price because they insist on tipping 500%. Listen, I know you may not have majored in accounting, but it's called the “same difference” effect.
-Have you ever noticed how you think of the best ideas for Halloween costumes and April Fool's jokes the day after the holiday? Even worse, by the time the next Halloween or April Fool's Day comes along, all you can remember is that you definitely thought of the BEST idea for a costume/joke the day after last year's holiday.
-I hate the “CD Burnout Countdown,” or as I refer to it, “CD BO.” You get a new CD that you love, and then there comes a point when you know any day now you're going to be sick of it. And as much as it hurts inside to know this day is coming, you continue to play the CD anyway, cherishing every last note before you can't stand to hear the same fucking song a 153rd time. So it goes away in your CD case to hibernate and regain its freshness–usually about 3 years later. Although I've heard if you can stuff it into one of those pressurized tennis ball containers that makes old tennis balls new again in 10 days, the wait is only about a year. Must be the compressed data vs. yellow fuzz.
-I have a paranoid habit of drooling spit onto a blown-out match before throwing it away in the trash can. Did Smokey ever advocate this or did I make it up? More importantly, do bears spit?
-And finally, as a fan of irony, I would like to share the following conversation I had with my previous next door neighbor last year (one of no more than 4 we ever had, other than the time my friends and I got drunk and joined his unexpectedly gay New Year's Eve Bash, but that's another story), after he knocked on my door midday. Keep in mind, I was probably the youngest person living on the floor and easily had the loudest parties and late-night music. He, on the other hand, could have been dead for all I knew most of the time.
Gay neighbor: Hey Court, you probably heard some banging earlier, we're doing some remodeling over here. Just wanted to make sure we didn't bust through to your side.
Me: Oh… ok. Well, no holes on my side so everything's good. What are you building over there?
Gay neighbor: Actually, I'm just installing some extra insulation, these walls are like paper thin.
Me: Wait, have I been too– *Confused look*
Gay neighbor: Anyway… let me know if the noise bothers you.