Pepsi. America’s Sweetheart

Soft Drink Company Unearths New Language

February 3, 2013    In a rare turn of events, the multinational beverage corporation Coca-Cola has brought to the forefront a little-known language that was thought to have gone extinct sometime in the past 40 years.  Subsequent to Coca-Cola’s Superbowl commercial, featuring life in everyday America played out to the tune of America the Beautiful sung in various languages, a campaign to boycott Coke products was launched on Twitter last night with the hastag #SpeakAmerican.  Many of the nation’s top linguists were baffled at the resurgence of the American language in modern society, however a source inside the White House stated that “it is not uncommon when patriotism is called into question.  ‘Murica!!”

 

It is unclear how many people in the United States actually speak American, though there are unconfirmed reports that several executives at Fox News are fluent.

Can I have a Triple Grande Skinny Vanilla Latte, hold the .38 special

I like fences.  Fences separate one area from another.  They establish territorial boundaries, without having to pee on a fire-hydrant.  There’s no mistaking the objective of a fence.  Just ask an inmate. 

9.0 – 9.5 – 9.2

Plus anyone can build a fence. 

The real talent is being able to sit on one.  Depending on the fence itself, it could be a balancing act worthy of an Olympic medalist.  You’re continuously one sneeze away from what I’m sure would be a very ungraceful drop, or being ousted by a giant squirrel, and my money’s on this guy. 

So congratulations to you Starbucks.  You’re the Cirque du Soleil of fence-sitting.

Starbucks has asked its customers to leave their guns at home.

How exactly did that internal memo read anyway?

How big is Liechtenstein, anyway?

While I would love to entertain you with the tale of my adventures over the past year; laying the groundwork for a new salt mine at the foot of the Himalayas; single-handedly saving an ancient sea turtle from an abandoned fishing net whilst snorkelling in Hanauma Bay; or the time I met Michael Fassbender while he was filming in Liechtenstein and after a brief romantic tryst he became obsessed with me and a bitter separation ensued; alas, I cannot.  I’ve signed a confidentiality agreement.

Just kidding.  None of that is true.

Jesus of Suburbia

A random conversation with my offspring yesterday morning…

OS: That guy’s always sitting there.

Me: Perhaps he’s Guardian of the Milk Crates.

OS: Maybe he’s waiting for Jesus.

Me: Well if Jesus ever shows up at a convenience store, you be sure to let me know.

OS: You know that even if it’s a guy that looks like Jesus, I’m still calling you.

Me: And what would he look like?

OS: You know, he floats down on a cloud, with long flowing hair, wearing sunglasses and playing a guitar.

Me: On his own personal cloud?

OS: Of course, he’s Jesus. And they’re epic aviator sunglasses like 4 sizes too big.

Me: Is he black or white?