Sometimes I wonder how far a person could shoot a curly fry out of a slingshot.
Sometimes I wonder what heavy metal music videos would look like if someone replaced all the band members with CGI housecats.
Sometimes I think we'd all be better off if we could light stuff on fire with our fingertips and drive the entire fast food industry into the ground.
Sometimes I wonder if candy bars could talk to each other, and if so, what kind of conversations they would have.
Sometimes I ask myself -- if God exists, how come the Partridge Family was allowed to exist?
Sometimes I start out to make obnoxiously long lists, and then run out of material about halfway through where I intended to get them.
Sometimes I feel guilty for eating french fries, like back when Burger King used Mr. Potato Head to advertise them and I felt like I was eating his kids.
Sometimes I like to imagine that I'm only 1 inch tall and running around inside a diorama full of other people that are only 1 inch tall, and we're all being watched by little kids who, every now and then, like to pull the wings off people.
Sometimes I like to jump out of bed in the morning and go zipping around my apartment as fast as possible, while still naked.
Sometimes I close the blinds in the living room before I do that.
Sometimes, late at night, my upstairs neighbor starts yelling at the top of his lungs. He's usually yelling at his apartment.
Sometimes I like to pour myself a nice hot cup of coffee, and then drink a cold soda right in front of it, hoping that'll make it really angry.
Sometimes I open up "men's" magazines and actually read the articles, hoping that somehow the girls in the photoshoots (wherever they are) will feel insulted by that.
