Occasionally I write something, and it comes out very naturally and it seems funny to me. Sometimes I write something and it comes out slowly and painfully, but at least I can see what joke I'm aiming for. Then sometimes I write something and I don't even know what the fuck I'm writing or where the idea came from. This was one of those times.
A few others of these times were:
None of these rank anywhere near the best of my stuff, but they certainly are the ones I look back on and think "Jesus, where did that idea even come from anyway?" This week joins that rank I think.
In terms of Italy news, I saw Justin Timberlake in the Sistine Chapel. When I tell people this, they often respond as though my boring trip to the Sistine Chapel was saved by at least having seen Justin Timberlake. People are weird.
I understand that sometimes "Cocktail Bar" is too long a phrase to put up on a sign. But shortening this phrase to a large neon pink sign advertising your "Cock Bar" is not the best solution. Thank you.
Emma Stone was the most paranoid person I had ever met. In private she wore a full suit of medieval armor at all times, visor down.
Welcome to Gamer Hell, where those who committed sins in online games must pay for their crimes against noobs for eternity.
The Daily Dirt serves as a column for all Something Awful frontpage writers to write about, well, whatever they feel like putting into the Daily Dirt!