Me: My Mom’s in Northwest Iowa.
Tom: Why?
Me: Visiting family. It’s where the homestead is.
Tom: The homestead? What is this, Little House on the f—ing Prairie?
Emmy: You can’t put the f-word in the middle of that show’s name. That’s like sacrilegious.
Me: Yeah, the Church of Michael Landon is probably really upset.
Me: Damn, she is busting out of that top.
Ben: She’s giving it the old hooker try.
Lou: You’re not watching Live 8. Why?
Me: I have this aversion to yuppie superstars pretending they understand economics while pushing for world socialism without even understanding the downfall of such a concept.
Lou: But dude, Pink Floyd reunited!
Ben: Dude, I thought about putting that desk together. Then I realized that it was like, way too difficult, so I said F— it.
Me: Way to give it the old DMV try.
Dave: Is there a strip club in the Tampa Bay area you haven’t been to?
Me: Unfortunately, there are many. And I, the urban explorer, have promised my friends and kin that I will visit all of them, lest their secrets go unexposed.
Dave: I’m sorry. What did you just say?
Me: Do not be sorry friend, for we have many many strip clubs to go, and miles before we sleep. So we’ve no time to be sorry, to complain or to weep.
Dave: Uh oh. You’re rhyming. These nights never end well.
Sean: I found this frozen burrito outside the Circle K. I’ll bet I can heat it up in the store and chow for free.
Me: You’re giving it the old crack-head try.
Ashley: So, if I move back here in a few months, will you still be living here?
Me: Only if I’m alive. And here.
Me: The group that took credit for that terrorist attack calls itself ‘The Secret Organization group of al Qaeda Organization in Europe.’ That’s a long ass name.
Frank: Yeah. I think the guy who named the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim must have helped them think that one up.
Me: That guy gave it the old terrorist try.
Frank: What the hell are you talking about?
Me: Nothing; just this thing I’ve been doing lately.
Frank: Well stop it, already. Terrorist try? Jesus. Make some freaking sense, kid.
Peek: You hungry?
Me: Yeah, but I won’t eat that. It’s not in my diet.
Peek: Your diet? What the hell diet are you on?
Me: I won’t eat anything that comes in a box.
Peek: So, no frozen pizzas or frozen waffles or mac and cheese or… wow.
Me: What’s up?
Peek: I just realized that almost all the food that comes in boxes are bad for you.
Me: I’m telling you, the best ideas are the simplest.
Peek: Like anal sex?
Me: Now you’re just being sick.
Mike: Didn’t it seem like he was trying too hard to be funny?
Ryan: I think he’s trying to get into one of Nate’s snippets.
Me: He gave it the old snippet try.
Mike: What’s a snippet, Nathan?
Me: Chunks of conversation. You’re in like twenty of them, Mike.
Mike: Of course I am. And you wanna know why?
Me: Because you’re a walking quote machine.
Mike: No. Because the bitches love me, Nathan. It’s all about the bitches. Never forget that, gentleman. Ah, the bitches.
Ryan: To the bitches.
Sean: I can’t believe you drank someone else’s beer like that.
Ed: I was thirsty and I was broke.
Me: Hey, at least you gave it the old wino try.
Ed: Yeah, Sean. At least I did that. Uh, Nate?
Me: Yeah.
Ed: What the hell is a wine ho try?
Sean: Just stop right now, Nate. He can only learn so much in one night.
Me: Hurricane Dennis, huh? Kind of a lame name. Probably won’t do any damage with a name like that. Now Ivan, that was a name.
Brad: What would you have named it?
Me: Hurricane Dick.
Brad: I can see it now: Dick slams coast.
Me: Dick lays down in panhandle.
Brad: A T-Shirt that says, “Pensacola got F—ed by Dick.”
Me: Plywood spray-painted with the words, “Go Home, You Dick.”
Brad: Weathermen everywhere checking on the position of Dick.
Me: ‘It looks like Dick is moving to the left.’
Brad: ‘Dick’s all over the place. He seems to have a mind of his own.’
Me: ‘And now we check with Jeannie, who’s in the panhandle as residents all anxiously await Dick.’
Brad: ‘And Dick is just pounding the shoreline.’
Me: Can we stop now?
Brad: Probably should.
Mike: Tell him how you hurt your hand, Ricky.
Ricky: Okay, but don’t write about this. I was sitting in my chair at work and I was spinning as fast as I could. You know, trying to see how many times I could spin around in five minutes, and I fell over and sprained my hand.
Me: You gave it the old Special School District try.
Mike: Nate, do you make this sh– up or is there some channel I’m not watching?
Ricky: You’re not gonna write about that are you?
Me: Ricky, I’m sure I have better things to write about than your dumb ass.
Suzanne: There’s a voluntary evacuation for all residents of Pinellas County.
Me: There’s a voluntary evacuation everyday, everywhere. You don’t have to stay.
Jenny: Yeah, it’s not like we’re in prison or anything.
Tim: She destroyed my car and tried to have me arrested, all because we broke up.
Me: She gave it the old psycho try.
Brian: Okay, Nate. That sh–‘s really starting to get old. Could you please just move on to your next dumb idea, already?
Me: All right, but you just gave it the old a–hole try.
Brian: Enough.