If nothing else, 2009 was the year of the zinger. A popular place to toss off snappy, witty one-liners is the Facebook Status Update. Over the next few posts, we’ll present to you the very best. Feel free to add your own below …
Sage advice: don’t go for a run in an ice storm. It’s an ACL tear waiting to happen.
I have goals on a leash the length of a coastline.
Word to the wise: don’t ever drunk dial the Chuck Norris Total Gym infomercial. They follow up.
I have several silly ideas in my head, but they’re only silly till they turn a profit.
I am done waiting for the perfect time start living. I get the feeling it’s not coming.
I would like to sincerely apologize for wishing people happy birthday a day early. First day in my ESL class, we haven’t covered “Tomorrow” yet.
Running three miles and presumably choking on the wind. Bringing a spatula so passersby may scrape my corpse off the road.
I celebrate my ironic post-modern authenticity by reading my new Chuck Klosterman book. I’m a PBR and thick-rimmed glasses short of being an archetype hipster.
Ran five miles. Haven’t run that far since the INS chased me.
Out to run 4 miles. And by run, I mean stagger. And by stagger, I mean look like an octopus falling out of a tree.
Last night was a beautiful trainwreck. It was a toddler vomiting during a family portrait. It was “fan man” landing in the middle of Ali-Frazier. No words yet.
If you’ve got something to say, just say it. Don’t wait for me to turn my back so you can shove a knife into it.
I have seen the future of rock and roll. Their name is The Upwellings.
On any given day, I can conquer the world. Today was not a given day. Musta been taken from me.
I eat my words like it were a buffet.
I make moves like a 43 year-old singlet in a college bar.
I feel no less than repulsively disgusting right now. Let’s go vomit … bring it on.
Time to pour out a Keystone Light for the 1996 Buick Century. Farewell you quirky, lovable death box.
Hold the mayo and hold the applause. I don’t have it as together as I seem.
Message 1 (3:29am): “Alright … you suck john gorman. Whatever… f**k you, alright … you suck.” Message 2 (3:51am): “You are lame … john gorman … and i think you’re a … whatever … lame … piece of sh*t f**k you. I want pizza.”
I welcome summer with open arms, a rose in my teeth and a cold bottle in my hand. I missed you. Welcome home.
Putting your life all together is just like trying to sweep milk back into its carton.
I offer up an olive branch to the god of discipline. My vices are soldiers retreating from an uphill battlefield.
I’m a Hispanic short of completing my trip around the world.
I am a certified charmer. Don’t let 4 out of 5 jilted lovers fool you.
I am mentally “aware.” And by aware, I mean susceptible to frequent lapses in concentration, focus, aptitude and functionality.
Car is napping again. I put that thing in timeout.
I’m staring at the sexy piece of steaming singing siren flesh that is Neko Case.
I cracked the metal flushing handle on his toilet in HALF just now. Just another side-effect of steroids, kids.
I really like you. You know … like that. So to woo you, I will make flagrant sexual advances, convince all your guy friends that you’re undateable, trash you in a public forum and sleep with other women to make you jealous. And I’ll smile; and ask you how your day was.
I wake up every morning; ready to begin anew. To seize a hold of the day, embrace it for what it is and stomp all over each waking minute. Then my cat pounces me, and I realize I was still asleep. And then I hit the snooze again.
People will always tell me to slow down and savor each individual moment. Well, I’m human and have an expiration date. So I’ve learned to savor more efficiently. Now I can have more moments.
I’m building my legacy with all the urgency of a public works department employee being paid by the hour. Say, is it time for a union-mandated 2 1/2 hour break? Didn’t I just take one 45 minutes ago?
I paid my salary by correcting our company budget. Up next, John Gorman convinces small children to give him their Halloween candy for “starving children” in “Africa.”
Who was holding that cup, Michael J. Fox? Now it looks like R. Kelly visited my hotel room.
I followed a cement mixer home from the airport. FDR could push a wheelbarrow faster than this truck was driving.
You know that bizarre high you get when you have a full-body sneeze? Well, consider me a junkie, then, today.
I have no idea if my first attempt at real red sauce will turn out well. What I do know is it looks like my kitchen were the epicenter for a 7.2 earthquake.
You know what we’re doing? We’re squeezing every last drop of sweet summer nectar from 2009. Because soon that nectar will freeze-dry, and I don’t have a pick-axe.
Things I hate about being sick, #47: If the circles around my eyes get any blacker, they’ll taze me and cage me off in the San Diego Zoo.
Things I hate about being sick, #46: The pounding head and backache you get from repeated labored breaths. I feel like I just gave Jack Black a 3-hr piggyback ride.
With the way I’ve lost my voice, I could “make him an offer he can’t refuse.”
I start every day with the urgency of six year-old being told to pick up his toys in the basement.
From the virus that brought you H1N1, Influenza, Pneumonia and SARS comes Bronchitis 2009: Respiratory Boogaloo. Now playing @ the John Gorman memorial dartboard at Merlin’s in Buffalo TONIGHT! 11-2!!!
I’m starting this week with all the tenacity of a turtle in a fish tank.
Mike Doughty is better in concert than you are in bed.
In my never-ending quest to be ‘green’, I made the life-threatening error of walking to the store today. I haven’t been blown like that since my 2003 E-laced excursion to a Bangkok massage parlor.
The critics are raving about the all-new 2010 John Gorman: “John, its 1 am … you drive me crazy.” – Retika Sehgal ? Test one out for yourself.
Christmas. Where I eat like a somalian at ponderosa and watch the law and order marathon. Jerry Orbach has had it up to here with your holiday cheer.