Day 336: I’d Rather Just Eat A Hot Dog [Friday Thoughts W/ TeeCoZee]
Good Moleman. Great Caeser’s Ghost! A talking Krusty doll! I stole it from that Borgnine guy. It’s Friday, August 20th, Twenty-Twenty1. The weather in Queens is 83˚ & Pantone 6249 and somewhere, somebody blew it. It’s all over now. The deed has been done. They had a chance, a window of opportunity and they blew it. Now, they’re left with questions. Was it enough? Did they do it right? If given the opportunity, would they blow it again? Does it make them happy? And most importantly, what do they do with this snotty tissue? And me? I’m typically really bad at blowing my nose. Whenever I try, not much comes out and one of my ears pops for the rest of the day. I fancy myself as more of a picker. I also have some things on my mind…
– We were watching Married At First Sight last night, because that’s my weekly opportunity to yell at the TV. You would think that I could also do it during Monday Night Raw, but that’s more of a groan than a yell. Anyways, there’s a guy on the show that looks like a neutered and depressed Justin Verlander. His newfound bride was really excited about something, and he just maintained his forlorn downward look and said in the most deadpan tone, “That’s a massive win for you”. I just about lost it. It was the funniest thing I saw all week. Like, the guy could not have acted any more miserable for no reason. I even paused the show to do an impression:
Hey babe, who am I? [Looks down] That’s a massive win for you.
You do realize that it’s the other way around, right? I’m a massive Wynn for you.
I want a divorce.
I’ve spent my whole life trying way too hard to be the funniest guy in the room and Rachel is just effortlessly so much funnier. Probably because she doesn’t try. I bet she’s even a better writer than me. I wish I had a funny punchline to this, but I just don’t. I think I need a lawyer.
– A new pointless study has shown that eating a hot dog takes off 36 minutes of your life. Conversely, a serving of salted peanuts will add 26 minutes. This got me thinking about the ways we could cheat death. Because I love hot dogs and to think that my dinner at Nastypoolooza ’17 took almost an entire day off my life has me worried. In order to continue living, I need to life hack my life. If peanuts add 26 minutes and cucumbers add 10, adding them to my hot dog would completely erase the negative effects of it. And what’s another way to prepare cucumbers? You pickle them. That’s called relish, holmes. So basically, hot dogs will kill you, but if you top it with peanuts and relish, it will do absolutely nothing to harm you. Nevermind the sodium in the peanuts, it’s adding 26 minutes of life! Thanks, Science! I’m gonna go eat a peanut dog right now!
Actually, no, that sounds disgusting. I’d rather eat a hot dog and not see what 2070 is like.
– You ever find it weird that when you’re a kid, testicles are referred to as nuts but then as you grow older, the colloquial term is balls? Is that something that happens during puberty? That’s it. That’s the thought.
– I’m driving to New Jersey today, because I have no self-respect. And it’s not that I’m going anywhere better. Jersey is the actual destination. So what am I there to do? Am I going to buy a sandwich? Find a cheap lawyer? Give up on life? Try to recreate Johnny Mnemonic? Nope. None of those things. I am going to my first Indy Wrestling show and I couldn’t be more excited for it. But I have to take a step back and analyze what I just said. I, a 34 year old Coze, is willingly driving to New Jersey to watch a bunch of wrestlers that I’ve never heard of and it’s actually going to be the highlight of my week. If you were to tell that to 32 year old Coze, he probably would’ve cackled for 5 minutes straight, wondered what happened to his life, smiled and got the fuck in the car.
Try this trick over the weekend: Find your younger self and take him to a wrestling show.
Have a reminiscent weekend, everybody!