Bad News for My Younger Sister

Eat this, Melissa! According to the most advanced research of our time I’ll be the one in leather pants rocking out to fans I don’t really care about and doing mass quantities of coke backstage with Mini-Me. I wasn’t even considering a career in music until I saw this. But why not now? Otherwise I’m wasting my God random universe given talents.

My Sister is probably all like, “Yah, well I’m better than you at SingStar and Guitar Hero.” Maybe so, but re-read that headline. First born has always been where it’s at. Maybe it’s because Mom loves me more.

I wonder if it’s too late to get on American’s Got Talent? Probably win it. I can’t even play chopsticks on a keyboard or find a beat let alone carry a tune, but statiscally it doesn’t matter. Like Laverne & Shirley I’m gonna make my dreams come true (doin’ it my way)!

Don’t let it get you down, Melissa. You’re good at other stuff like sewing and laundry, and I’ll definitely need people on tour to take care of those things. Leather pants tear all the time. Especially with girls I’ll be bringing home.

This entry was written by Jason Parmele, posted on July 6, 2010 at 10:32 pm. Leave a comment.



My Girlfriend Wants a Cat

My girlfriend wants a cat. I don’t want a cat. Inevitably, I’m going to lose this argument — as with all other arguments before this. My overall record against my girlfriend is 0-23. One time, to break the losing streak I tried to start an argument that 2 + 2 = 4. To do this, keep yelling “2 + 2 = 4 what are you dumb?” repeatedly at someone. However, I lost this after she cited a Wikipedia entry proving 2 + 2 = 5.

What this has taught me is you can’t outrun the bear. You have to be smarter than the bear. So, I’ve agreed to get a cat if my girlfriend can adhere to some rules.

Rules:

  1. It’s her responsibility to feed the cat — not mine! The only exception to this rule is if she’s out of the country.
  2. It’s her responsibility to purchase cat food. I will not make any late night runs to the store because she’s “tired” or “have been on [her] feet all day.”
  3. The cat must be a house cat and declawed. The second to last thing I want is for it to be outside killing chickens and come back and give me H1N1. (The last thing I want is for it to give me AIDS.)
  4. Under no circumstances will I ever clean the litter box.
  5. The cat must not shed hair on the furniture, floor, or my clothes. One piece of cat hair on my khakis and I will punch it in the face and rename it Rihanna.
  6. The cat must be able to play the saxophone.
  7. If unable to play the saxophone, the cat needs another special talent that would get it 1,000,000 views on YouTube.
  8. The cat must have a basic understanding of English. Somewhere between a Mexican immigrant and Elmo.
  9. Throwing up is not allowed (from anybody).
  10. The cat must have thick skin because I will be blaming it for shit. Like broken picture frames, missing money, and that girl who keeps calling and hanging up whenever she answers the phone.
  11. My acceptance of a cat would count as her gift for Valentine’s Day and her next two birthdays.
  12. Rules #1-11 can be ignored if instead of cat she gets a tiger.

This entry was written by Jason Parmele, posted on July 3, 2010 at 10:01 pm. Leave a comment.




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