Chester, Churtle and Streven,
If you’re reading this, it means I am dead. I don’t know how I died, but I assume I went out the way I came in to this world: getting prematurely yanked out of some sexy woman’s belly by a man dressed in all white.
Now, as you already know, I was rendered sterile after beating up an x-ray technician at work who looked at me funny without placing a proper radiation shield over my dingdong. Consequently, the women you refer to as mothers and I made the decision to adopt three boys. I didn’t want boys initially, but settled for y’all after learning I couldn’t legally adopt the fully grown men I met at the Orange County gun show. Thanks, Obama. (more…)
Summertime sneaks up on you, and if you’re reading this, it already has. The only thing hotter than the temperature is the dating scene. This helps as much as it hinders; when everyone is hot to trot, it’s hard to stand out. But how to prove you’re more of a summer love than a spring fling?
The answer lies in summer’s sibling season: The Bachelorette Season 12. As JoJo and the boys show us every week, it’s easiest to make the best impression on a truly unforgettable date. (more…)
Family birthdays. Your high school locker combination. Your “lucky” numbers can’t help you here (and really, what have they done for you lately?) It’s the world of scratch tickets, baby, and it’s a different game.
You know you’ve got the itch, now it’s time to apply dabs of isopropryl rubbing alcohol–I mean, SCRATCH IT!
Some advance praise for the app and subliminal podcast of HOW TO WIN AT SCRATCH TICKETS:
“Matt Sullivan’s HTWAST puts the ‘vice’ back in ‘advice.’ Now he’ll put this blurb in the ‘ad,’ get it?”
–Larry King via Twitter
“Matt Sullivan? That turkey owes me $5!”
–Rudy Ray Moore, The Disco Godfather
Here’s an excerpt, as transcribed from the infomercial: (more…)
Wendy, sorry to come to your window so late, but I needed to see you. We’ve gotta get out of this town. There’s nothing here for us. We’ve got such big dreams, and the world’s just waiting. So whadaya say? Let’s run away together, and become accountants.
There’ll be no more parents, no more rules – except generally accepted accounting principles, of course. We can finally be free of this town, full of losers who don’t even itemize deductions. We’ll drive and drive, off into the sunset, a new town everyday, until we find somewhere we like and open up a practice, then it’ll be that town forever.
We can even move to the city if you like so you can follow your dream on Broadway, working with actors and directors to minimize their tax burdens. We’ll be wild and free, staying out all night at crazy office parties, traveling the world on team-building retreats, living every day like it’s our last until it’s April 15th. It’ll be tough for the first few years, our income barely scraping above six figures, but we’ll get by as long as we have each other listed as dependents. (more…)