Which kind of soup do you really not like?

Remember me? No, come on, I'm a friend of your mom's. My name is Chuck. You remember me. Chuck. Remember? Come on, let's go for a ride in my awesome '90 Porsche. You will enjoy it, I promise, with the winking and the nudging. Billy, let's go. I said let's go. Billy!

What is fun about skydiving: Sometimes the parachute is not going to open.
My new favorite webcomic: Achewood. It is so good and I just know you'll cold love it.
My new favorite diet: Everything I can see, that's what I eat, I eat all of it, and then I might burp or drink some iced tea. I might put liquor in this iced tea. That is my favorite thing. Putting liquor in my iced tea. Other than my kids and my wife or whatever. That is basically what I'm all about.
My new favorite kind of grass: Crabgrass
My new favorite nickname for my left index finger: Itchy Love Wand
My new least favorite noise: Thousands of children, all exhausted from a long night of weeping, simultaneously screaming my name four times.
My new favorite form of recreation: Desensitizing apes to violence by locking them in a room where the walls are covered with pictures of me hitting apes in the shoulder or occasionally the face. The apes in these pictures might have some fake blood on them and some are crying. Really it is just my friend Davis in different ape suits. I don't know where he got them.
My new least favorite way to get wet: Wading through someone else's murky, day-old bathwater to retrieve my lost teddy bear.
My new favorite therapy: Just hitting people until they shut up about their stupid problems.
The last time I remember thinking about Skeletor: probably a couple days ago
The last time I flew over the handlebars of my bike and landed on my head: 1988
What I dreamed about when they put me under for hernia surgery: Two white lions fighting over an old grape.
A story I wrote that is not even a little bit true at all: Okay, so there's this police chief. Okay? So the chief falls in love with a bag of muffins, and the bag of muffins is already promised to another man, so he's walking around all dejectedly when he sees this really awesome car and falls in love with the car (or it might've been a cow...anyways) he's sitting there trying to convince the car (cow) that he loves it when in comes Kiefer son of Donald Sutherland with his special Anti-Terrorist Handgun (in other words it's fricking huge) and blows like twelve holes in the car's (cow's) gas tank (kidneys), causing it go up in flames (moo a lot) and eventually explode (bleed to death). The unlucky, heavy handed, perfectionist chief wanders off into the woods until he comes to a clearing. He spends about an hour in the clearing (playing hacky sack and talking to himself) before he realizes that he's totally head-over-heels in love with it (the clearing). So he hugs the clearing (trees) and kisses the clearing (dirt) and then he gets in an argument with the clearing (grass) and tells the clearing (ladybug) he's fed up with it. He starts to leave but realizes how much he truly loves the clearing (clearing) and decides to marry the clearing and settle down. Unfortunately, he soon realizes the clearing is not in fact a clearing...but a grotto. He screams at the grotto (rusty, discarded piece of a lawn ornament), "I thought I knew you! Why weren't you honest with me?!" He runs from the forest bawling his eyes out just as the Keef drops a nuke on the clearing (grotto) to flush out some terrorists. Good timing, enraged, unlucky, heavy handed, perfectionist chief. Finally, the chief stumbles upon a small pond (kiddie pool) in which he finds a small goldfish whom he names Filibusterifery XXX, Esquire. The Third. The End. Or IS IT?!?!?!?
Something about me that nobody knows: One time when I was a kid I knew this guy who snorted red pepper up his nose. I think he's running for government office now.
Something about me that is false: I remember being born, and woah, dude, that was an experience.
A place I went last week: grocery store
One thing I think about whenever I'm all alone: How far could I pitch a gopher?
I have no legs. What am I? You are a starfish.
No. You're an amputee.
Close enough. I'm just glad that's over with.
Please stop hitting on our female sales representatives. I'm sorry. Is that against policy or something?
No. It's just that they're all either married or over 60. Oh.
Way I'm going to end this entry: If I keep praying, God says I can win the lottery. God is the bomb.