Why would I ever want to visit Disney World?
Aladdin: the used cars years.The infamous, time-honored Disney World vacation scores remarkably high on the Face-Eating Scale. For those of you unfamiliar with this patented family measurement system, allow me to explain.
Each industry-standard marriage revolves around two participants, the husband and the wife. If you ever discover your marriage contains additional members (such as multiple husbands or a frisky sailboat claiming to be your wife), you may want to thoroughly inspect it for manufacturing defects. Both individuals fulfill different critical roles in the marriage, each one equally important. The husband must occasionally trick his wife into temporarily believing he spends more time thinking about her than downloading internet pornography. The wife is required to randomly freak out and claim their relationship is balancing precariously on the edge of disaster because she recently discovered a toenail clipping on the toilet seat. The yin and yang, if you will.
I designed the Face-Eating Scale with two theories in mind:
1. Men primarily display love and affection for their family by refusing to lock them all in a broom closet and eat their faces.
2. Women equate the act of agonizing suffering with love.
Simply put, the more a husband suffers and considers pulling a "Shining" on his family, the more his wife grows convinced he truly adores her. To a man, there is simply no greater way to say "I love you" than by refusing to murder his wife and children. I'd better hurry up and trademark that phrase before Hallmark steals it away. Many scientists have linked the Face-Eating Scale with the Judith Light's Shoulderpads Scale, designed to measure the likelihood a woman will decide to strap on gigantic shoulderpads and shove her husband down a flight of stairs while sipping a glass of wine and cackling.
A Disneyworld vacation scores big points on the Face-Eating Scale, inspiring amazing amounts of both family contempt and male suffering love. Similar results may only be obtained by picking your wife flowers that only grow in active minefields, or somehow contracting AIDS while watching "Fool's Gold" with her. The resulting good karma will literally last you hours.
Simply put, if I had Johnny Manziel’s physical gifts, you better believe I would be there in the Weight Room, getting to bed early, doing whatever I had to do to be the best possible athlete I could be. I wouldn't be posting on social media about sucking titties. I wouldn't even look at a titty, buddy. I'd look at a titty and see two big footballs.
A real friend doesn't move until the middle of August, ensuring temperatures in the 90s and a humidity that turns boxers into moist balls of ruined cotton.
Expendable? You must be joking.
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