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Things I Began Writing Before I Came to the Realization I Have Absolutely Nothing to Write About

a bout with barren brain

I’ve never actually told someone “kiss my ass,” yet when I come home from work, every story I tell my wife about my day contradicts that.

Why is fruit more expensive than candy?

Chocolate with fruit inside is crap.

For me, there’s no better therapy than enjoying a really good cry over a value meal in Chick Fil A’s parking lot.

The restrooms at the local library are kept so nice and clean, my body will motivate itself to produce. (My only proof of tax dollars at work.)

I discovered a pair of worn boxer shorts lying in our driveway last week. I thought this would serve as an intriguing mystery story. They turned out to be mine. It’s now a cold-case file.

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For an old-fashioned family man, I blast a helluvalotta angry, profanity-infused music when driving alone.

I once dated a girl who accidentally caught me sitting on a toilet. It was very humiliating for me. I remind her just how much each year ‘round our anniversary.

The guy in the work cubicle next to me won’t stop humming People are People.

I saw my optometrist about a stye on my eyelid. He recommended I add more fish oil to my diet and apply a special eyelid scrub, sold exclusively at his practice, twice a day. He also prescribed I heat a potato in the microwave, wrap it in a washcloth and place it against my eye three times a day for three weeks until the stye gradually went away.

I saw an ophthalmologist about a stye on my eyelid. She removed it with a knife.

If I’m in a conversation and the other person uses the expression “awesome sauce,” I’ll back away and never talk to them again.

My snack food acumen was legendary. Then…Takis.

In my honest opinion, no movies are being made nor will be made deserving of two thumbs-up, ten stars or any descriptor more intense than “alright.”

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"Hi. My name is Roy." - Now that just sounds stupid. (thehappysidestep@gmail.com)

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