tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68665173135146817722012-02-16T17:51:24.740-08:00Dialogue with Life, God, Clowns, Death, Girls, Salesman, and Others.Punch Kick Chokenoreply@blogger.comBlogger91100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6866517313514681772.post-52132564266407965262008-05-21T01:31:00.000-07:002008-05-21T01:45:06.040-07:00Me: I loved you in Family Guy, Death.<br /><br />Death: That was Norm MacDonald, you idiot. And a cartoon, to boot.<br /><br />Me: Oh. <span style="font-style: italic;">Meet Joe Black</span>?<br /><br />Death: ...Brad Pitt. I'll take that as a compliment. Now scram.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6866517313514681772-5213256426640796526?l=talkingtolife.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Punch Kick Chokenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6866517313514681772.post-73905530075492337822008-05-21T01:28:00.000-07:002008-05-21T01:31:08.240-07:00FCY: <span style="font-style: italic;">*Runs Up*</span> HEY!!! You seem like a cool guy! You should totally join our bible study group this Saturday!<br /><br />Me: *Feigned Interest* HEYYYY.... No. That's my drinking day. <span style="font-style: italic;">*Walks Off*</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6866517313514681772-7390553007549233782?l=talkingtolife.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Punch Kick Chokenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6866517313514681772.post-38290255717612207542008-04-20T21:28:00.000-07:002008-04-20T21:30:27.820-07:00<span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Hey Death. Is my my time already?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"> Death</span>: No. *<span style="font-style: italic;">Walks away</span>*<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"> Me:</span> Whew! *<span style="font-style: italic;">Continues unhealthy lifestyle</span>*<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6866517313514681772-3829025571761220754?l=talkingtolife.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Punch Kick Chokenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6866517313514681772.post-8394118118141357052008-04-16T13:13:00.000-07:002008-04-16T13:17:34.660-07:00<span style="font-weight: bold;">Life:</span> What's up, man?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me: </span>Oh, you know, the usual. The job suc....<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Life:</span> You know what? Let me stop you there. I don't give a flying shit. <span style="font-style: italic;">*walks away*</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me: </span>Aww.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6866517313514681772-839411811814135705?l=talkingtolife.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Punch Kick Chokenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6866517313514681772.post-15579995521695062872008-04-16T09:34:00.000-07:002008-04-16T09:45:33.339-07:00<span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Excuse me, where is the nearest gas station? I'm a little lost, and I'm running out of fuel.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Salesman:</span> Fuel? Well, my good sir, let me introduce the new Toyondazda Super-Deluxe Hybrid Gasoline-Electric-Bat Guano 4-cylinder-wheel-drive!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Er, that's nice, but I need some fuel. I won't be able to make it more than 10 miles with what I have in the tank.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Salesman:</span> Tank? This baby has a 5-chamber fuel and bat shit hydrocapacitator with TZ management! You'll get 5000 miles to the gallon!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Okay, now you're just throwing random made-up words at me. Where's the damn gas station?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Salesman:</span> Do you need help with the financing of this fabulous new car? <span style="font-style: italic;">*Grin*</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">*Drives off*</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6866517313514681772-1557999552169506287?l=talkingtolife.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Punch Kick Chokenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6866517313514681772.post-36216989825008269022008-04-16T02:17:00.000-07:002008-04-16T02:24:00.130-07:00<span style="font-weight: bold;">Me: </span>Mr. Clown, why do you scare children so much? My theory is that your overly exaggerated expressions and antics overstimulate introverted kids, and in turn, they become stressed out and begin to cry. But since I am not a clown by profession, and you are, would you be so kind as to explain to me what you think is a likely reason?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Clown:</span> I can't speak for all clowns, but the kids I work with usually only start crying when I pull their little pants off and start to rape them.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> ... <span style="font-style: italic;">*walks away slowly*</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6866517313514681772-3621698982500826902?l=talkingtolife.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Punch Kick Chokenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6866517313514681772.post-17227889088191532732008-04-16T02:14:00.000-07:002008-04-16T02:17:05.067-07:00<span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">*sitting at edge of cliff*</span> Life, would you join me and let me talk about you for a bit while enjoying this lovely view?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Life:</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">*Pushes me off cliff*</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6866517313514681772-1722788908819153273?l=talkingtolife.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Punch Kick Chokenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6866517313514681772.post-65175267359048024392008-04-16T02:08:00.000-07:002008-04-16T02:13:25.446-07:00<span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Wait, why am I talking to you? I don't even believe in you.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">God:</span> Because you need other characters to have witty conversations with on your blog other than life.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Fair enough. I still don't believe in you, though.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">God:</span> Blow me.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6866517313514681772-6517526735904802439?l=talkingtolife.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Punch Kick Chokenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6866517313514681772.post-73935884118668168542008-04-16T02:05:00.001-07:002008-04-16T02:14:11.316-07:00<span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Life, why am I talking to you?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Life:</span> Because you're an introverted young adult with a hyperactive imagination with a computer and a Blogger account.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Aww. You make it sound so depressing.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6866517313514681772-7393588411866816854?l=talkingtolife.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Punch Kick Chokenoreply@blogger.com0