notes:
* which one of the three should i do? ah, do 'em all. you know the older i get, the more fascinated i become with commercials
* you know there's a deli shoppe somewhere out there that's called the Hold The Mayo Clinic. serves comics with your cucumber sandwiches, sliced triangularly on unleavened dough with a cherry on top
* brunette woman who will wear hat: why do i have to clean up after the rager? i didn't even get to sample any of the pizza you swatted ordered.
blonde woman: why do they make chips so goddamn spicy? i like dill-flavored, i ike chile, but why must it start a fire in your mouth? that kind of atrocious hot is simply obnoxious. i've been sad days ever since i found out my fam was sick. haven't gotten out of couch.
woman in hat: yeah, that fam is me. and no matter how long you stare at that painting, it's not gonna turn into Jesus.
* blonde: here's your lucky hat. wear it and never take it off so men won't know what color your hair is and prejudge you.
woman in hat: this lucky hat got me sick.
* couch potato: what'd i miss?
blonde: shut up, mom, you don't pay rent. we're just two fams hugging, that's all.
woman in hat: thank you. the only person who hugs me now is my doctor.
blonde: why you cryin'? listening to Aerosmith or something?
woman in hat: no i'm crying cos you owe me 300 bucks for that ball you wanted to try and i know i'm never getting that back.
* couch potato: what's with the lens flare? is JJ directing this?
woman in hat: it's this thing called the sun that's doing that. you wouldn't know about that cos you've never gone outside.
couch potato: YOU'VE GOT THIS!!!......can i watch porn and 7-Eleven commercials on your tv while you're away?
* blonde: why you screamin'? is it a exultation of triumph that you're gonna conquer this?
woman in hat: no i'm just in a lot of pain. what does the Mayo Clinic treat anyway?
blonde: we're trying to determine how it is that you're my daughter. i mean i got blonde hair.
woman in hat: hey, don't truck away leaving me here alone with no papers, that's dangerous in these times.
blonde: you'll find your way in this new world, you'll see. it's one of those offices up there in that skyscraper building. you got the key, right?
woman in hat: i only have the key to the executive washroom.
* husband: catch any fish with your big feet?
wife: time for me to leave.
* husband: i'm sick.
wife: well i'm sick of you so let's go.
husband: just forcing my beehive into the back of this TransAm and we're off. whoa! i saw the sliding doors and thought we were at Mayo already, what train station has sliding grocery-store doors?
* husband: why are we taking the train? isn't it longer?
wife: i'm having myself the honeymoon you were too cheap to afford me on our wedding night. don't worry, the train is all run with AI it's 100% safe.
* wife: what are you reading?
husband: my ipad. what's a five-letter-word for science?
wife: WHIZZ. how's your McDonalds Sausage and Egg McMuffin?
husband: i can feel it clogging my arteries as i eat it. why doesn't McDonalds have all-day breakfast already? i had to jump this train onto another train to make it in time. how's your McCafe coffee?
wife: it tastes like coffee.
husband: ahhhhh, my leg is dead, i can't move it! i gotta get up out of my seat and jump around.
wife: nah, you just gotta take a whizz.
* husband: i can't believe the conductor didn't look at our tickets!
wife: we're black, honey, we're the invisibles of society.
* wife: i keep our wedding photograph in a locket on a necklace that touches my chest and heart.
cabdriver: can i see? i mean the locket, not your chest. hey, have you seen Michael Cohen? he owes me 300 bucks or one Olympic gold medal on the black market.
* wife: you feel better, dear?
husband: yes, thank you for holding my hand and calming me. i am so nervous. well, goodbye, love.
wife: wait, why are YOU dropping ME off? i'm not the one who's sick!
* father: ROAD TRIP!!! FATHER-SON-BONDING TIME!!!
son: dad, come on. it's just the two of us, i'm not embarrassed of you but we are going to the Mayo clinic, this is a somber occasion, not a cause for celebration.
father: I GOT THE BEEF JERKY!!!
* son: are you the ocean?
father: i'm the sea.
son: do you SEA my middle finger, dad? are you edible?
father: the only thing i ever ate was your mother's underwear.
son: gross.
father: they weren't edible underwear btw. your mother always smells like peaches that have been on the sill too long.
* father: son, see all those rays of sun filtering down through the clouds like light touches of light spears? that proves God exists.
son: or it means God is trying to kill us with light spears.
* father: oh, you're a cute hotelier!
counter clerk: sir, not all red neon lights mean the same thing. why you boys out so late? causing generalized mischief and raising hell?
son: please, ma'am, don't mention Hell around me, i'm dying...
counter clerk: okay, you guys can do whatever you want here EXCEPT play late-night basketball.
* son at bathroom mirror: dad, i'm scared. i can't sleep. i'm sweating profusely through my facial pores.
father: do you see Bloody Mary in the mirror?
son: no.
father: okay, that's a good sign at least. don't down that half-opened NyQuil bottle by the bible in the drawer all at once. want me to read you a bedtime story?
son: the one about the giraffe?
father: no the one about the hippo.
* son: dad, i appreciate you playing b-ball with me at 3AM pitch-black on a spooky haunted court like this, but why did you have to cheat? this will likely be out last sport together.
father: hey if you die, you die, you know, son? sorry, in all the fun and confusion i forgot how to spell H-O-R-S-E.
* son: you sure it's okay to be drinking these beers then joyriding?
father: yeah, we'll just drive that speedboat in the grass there a few crop-circles, it's our last trip together.
* son: *YELLS EFFERVESCENTLY*
father: what was that for? i liked it.
son: see my plaid shirt? i was gonna be Kurt Cobain in the off-off-Broadway play Courtney's Song. i wanted to be an actor, dad, now that dream is dashed. i feel down. there's a general malaise in the air, can you feel it, dad? a wave of overpowering disappointment overtaking human consciousness.
father: hey son, don't put your unsocked feet in the water here, see all those electrical poles in the water? that's the price for clean green water energy: electrocution of flesh.
* father: *slaps his son's back softly* got your backpack with you, son? you're gonna be here a VERY LONG time.
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happy weekend, my babies. The Mueller Report dropped on my birthday, what are the chances? that's popcorn-psychedelic.
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