I don't ever want to do standup comedy - it's just not something I'd find rewarding. If I ever did do standup, though, my routine would go a little something like this. Any struggling comic out there who wants to steal these jokes: go ahead.
How's everybody doing tonight? Good? Good.
I volunteered recently to be part of a pharmaceutical study, they were testing out a new antidepressant. They handed me a little bottle of pills, told me to take two a day - one every morning when I got up, one every evening with dinner, come back in two weeks and report any symptoms.
So I do it. One pill every morning before I brush my teeth, one pill every evening with dinner, kept a little journal thing, two weeks go by. I go back to the center, they say "How do you feel, what was it like?".
I told'em, "Well, I gained thirty pounds, I had shortness of breath, blurry vision, my pubic hair all fell out, my hands were shaky, I couldn't bend my spine in any way shape or form, and I had difficulty maintaining an erection. I didn't have a bowel movement the whole second week, I leaked blood out of my tear ducts, I began urinating a substance that looked, felt, and smelled exactly like blueberry jam, and I experienced vivid hallucinations and delusions that caused me to set fire to all my furniture, shave my head, kill my dog, strip down naked and go out sprinting into the street, screaming ethnic slurs at the top of my voice until a cop took me down with a flying tackle, followed by three taser shots and a boot to the face."
They said "That's nice. You were in the control group."
When someone finally reveals to his friends and his family that they are, in fact, attracted to members of their own gender, it's common to say that they've "come out of the closet". That's the phrase, "come out of the closet".
When people have a secret of some sort, something they keep hidden away because they don't want to deal with the shame of their past, they say they have a "skeleton in their closet".
Gay people are skeletons.
Stay with me now, people, this gets weirder.
Now, when people are talking just for the sake of talking, talking about sports, the weather, whatever, you say they're "chewing the fat". Or "shooting the shit", depending on how profane you feel like being that particular Monday. When you have something important to say, however, when you need to have a vicious argument with someone, you say you've "got a bone to pick" with them.
Of course, heterosexuals like myself have plenty of both fat and shit, thank you very much, but gay people are composed entirely out of arguments. Explains a lot.
Now, when you're having an argument, there are two options. You can either "bury the hatchet" - which some would say is an effective strategy for dealing with the undead, but it strikes me as being rather homophobic in this context - or you can "give'em a piece of your mind".
When you're giving someone a piece of your mind, you're giving them "your two cents' worth". I guess mindbits don't go for much on the open market. In order to get someone's two cents worth, you offer them a "penny for your thoughts". That's one cent in exchange for two. Gay people eat your money.
Fortunately, of course, as we all know, "money is the root of all evil". So homosexuals, in consuming your currency, are objectively making the world a better place, one cent at a time. And you thought they were just for fashion advice.
"Time is money", so I think it's fair to assume that money is also time. "Time flies", therefore money flies - at least, I know mine certainly seems to. I don't know whether or not the homosexual argument skeletons can also fly so they can chase their fiduciary prey through the skies, but it would make sense. Just chomping through the sky like Pac-man... [make zooming Pac-man gesture in the air] ... or, I guess, Mrs. Pac-man, in case of the ones in drag.
I think that should be the new hand gesture to say someone's gay. I mean, you know, like instead of [limp wrist gesture], you'd be "Hey, did you see that new guy down at the accounting department? I think he may be, you know...." [zooming Pac-man gesture]
I don't know. I guess I just think about words and phrases more than most people. People don't take stuff like that seriously, when they're just talking. I do. Stuff like hypothetical situations.
For most people, a hypothetical situation is just something they use to fill time, maybe learn something about the other person, like it's an inkblot test. For me, I assume they're asking who I'd eat first in the lifeboat because they intend on resorting to cannibalism in a lifeboat with me later today, and just want to get the formalities out of the way ahead of time.
Probably the most popular hypothetical situation is the superpowers one. If you could have any superpower... You know what ninety percent of people say? [nasal voice] "Ooh, I'd take the ability to fly because I always love it when I fly in my dreams and plus I'd never be late to work ha ha!"
Fuck you! You could have the ability to do anything. Anything! You could end world hunger! You could cure AIDS! And you picked a power that can be easily replicated with a couple of yards of nylon and a cliff.
You know what superpower I'd pick? The ability to give other people superpowers. You can't tell me it doesn't exist! Somebody used it on me!
So here, all the people who want to end world hunger, form a line to my left, I'll be giving you the ability to shoot linguine noodles out of your wrists like Spider-man. Everyone who wants to cure the world's diseases, form a line down the middle, your spit is now vaccines, go make out with people. Everyone who wants end war, form a line to my right, I'll be giving you the ability to bring people back to life, effectively turning all armed conflict into one big game of force-feedback laser tag. Everyone who wants to be able to fly? Fire escape's that way. Good luck.
Or how about the desert island hypothetical situation, that one's popular. You're marooned on a desert island for the rest of your life, no hope whatsoever of rescue, you can only have one book, one album, and one person for company. You know who I'd bring? Glenn Beck.
I would be freaking miserable. But the rest of the world? You're welcome. Took that bullet for you.
I figure the book and the album don't really matter, since Glenn would probably be mad enough at me to use them for toilet paper.
I wonder how long it would take before... you know.... [Pacman hand gesture] I give him nine months.
I give myself a year. Not looking forward to that three month period in between.