What's your level of VIP-ness?

Time is a starfucker! We have always know that Time is vain, but this is simply unfair! The concept of the VIP line has always bothered me, why should certain individuals be admitted faster or allowed to park closer? Just because Time is an avid reader of US Weekly and gets its panties in a bunch over the thought of Brad and Angelina appearing at the opening of some hot new club does not give it the right to discriminate. I am sick of Time giving handouts to the rich and famous!

My Ex-Friend

I was at my favorite public drinking establishment last night enjoying some anti-Time beverages with some friends when I made some callous joke about a fellow patron. We burst into hysteric laughter at the poor soul's expense. When we finally regained composure, my then-friend remarked: "Ah, good times, good times." My good humor was shot dead. I got up and walked out without another word. How could I be friends with someone who openly praised time?

Drinking: The anti-time

Have you ever been over-served at the bar one evening, then you wake up to friends telling you stories of things you don't remember? "Dude, you totally barfed in her purse and handed it back to her saying 'no need for change'" or "You went to sleep on the beach volleyball court and wouldn't move because you claimed the season wasn't over."

Your friends are bastards. They are using Time against you. By drinking, you've been actively defeating time by removing its influence on your life. Don't let these so-called friends undo your victory! You are a loyal soldier in the war against time! Those who bring it back are like the Americans who said "Ya know, the Redcoats really aren't so bad. Let's not throw that tea in the harbor."

So grab another pint, friend. And keep fighting the good fight. You're a true patriot. Your friends are practically French.

Further proof that Time is deadly.. and bilingual

Sorry, but it looks like P. Cruz's sassy accent can't even save you from Time's assassin. It has been brought to our attention by some hot Andalusian chick that the Spanish word for time is "tiempo." Now this may seem like a perfectly adequate translation of the Anglo-Saxon derivative, and kind of fun to say as it rolls off the tongue pretty easily, but oh no, Baxter. You are so wrong. It's much, much more than that.

The word "tiempo" in Spanish is a homonym (a link for stupid people). It is used to describe both time and the weather, which totes kills everything in its path via: tsunamis, hurricanes, earthquakes, Dick Cheney, flash floods, tornadoes, heat waves and apocalyptic blizzards that only Dennis Quaid and Jake Gyllenhaal can survive in (Some people didn't have TIME to see '2012' so the references are a little stale, sorry).

So, by several bilingual degrees of separation, we can once again prove that Time indeed kills. What an inconvenient truth. Joder.

"Waste of Time"

I was at the auto mechanic the other day waiting for my car to get tuned up. A lady seemed very angry with the person behind the desk. Clearly things weren't going her way. Perhaps she received some unfortunate news about her car. In a sigh of pure frustration, she sat down next to me and said, "Well that was such a huge waste of time!" Resenting her defense of time's value, I immediately corrected her saying, " No, that is time wasting you!" She moved a seat down from me and started reading a newspaper.

Time is Promiscuous

Time sleeps with the following people, things, and ideas:

Desire, stress, disease, Tom Barry, traffic, hate, uncomfortable chairs, Ben Stein, emergency rooms, cubicles, Keanu Reeves, death, jealousy, the movie Being Human, loneliness, anger, Britney Spears and Kenny G at the same time, losing, waiting, dentists, fear, terrorists, tone deaf people singing karaoke, Wilt Chamberlain (who doesn't?), Mondays, the idea of days, work, deadlines, and unhappiness.

The list goes on, but naming all of Time's 7382 sexual partners is also on the list so I have to stop here.

Who's in your bed?

You know those mornings when you wake up and something just isn't right? You're tired or aching or slightly depressed or immediately pissed off. Well there used to be an old phrase to describe these unfortunate mornings: You woke up on the wrong side of the bed. That just isn't the case. There is no right or wrong side of the bed. You woke up next to time, and you feel dirty. You should feel dirty.