Pure Guava

I don't check the "social side" of Earwolf very much, I just put on my flame-resistant jump suit, fake neck tattoo and real face tattoo and go to work at the comedy truck stop,  just straight pumping out those catchphrases like the solar system's least expensive and 2nd least bought gasoline (fucking Shell station on the Moon still holding that ignominious title, those lunards*) without any shoes or ability to censor/edit myself stopping me from stepping on sharp rocks and kicking small children causing me to get off the Earwolf site quickly to avoid leaving a bloody trail of sharp rocks and Play Stations to my hidden lair once I'm done exhausting my gas supply. Waiting on you to finish fence. Which is a metaphor and a sign I'm up too late again. MetaphorBot2000 is here to break down what was said and also break down since it's a 2000 version, which everyone knows blows like a bowl made of coals who wants their tongue to get dirty, bird. Or should I say dirty QWERTY since my keyboard needs cleaning 

Where was I?

*Luna + Nerds = lunards X explaining a joke = aways a good sign the funny is lurking in spades. Which is what he wanted to hear, he hasn't had funny lurking anywhere near him, much less in him, since the 2nd season of Just Shoot Me (wild guess, don't care enough about him or facts** to research the topic any further). 

**Unless it's Hollywood Facts, take out yo diiiiick. 

Whoa. I actually was electrocuted at age 6, tried to plug a fan in but my finger was being possessive of the socket, not allowing anyone or anything to enter it's tiny domain inside the wall.....or maybe it was making sure there were no hungry gremlins waiting to eat his best friend fan plug I'll just change the story from one to the other depending on what kind of person I'm trying to manipulate and for what purpose whence telling the tale of the "Time I Never Felt More Alive", each day that passes is filled sticking my fingers into random sockets trying to get that ghost pepper concentrate blown in your ass of your soul feeling that only comes from either imitating a circuit breaker temporarily or getting ghost pepper concentrate blown in your ass. I never made the correlation between the electric wake up call and loving Pure Guava but because someone said it out loud I believe it with the strength of a thousand suns. I have my own theories on people's favorite Ween album and the Quebecois among you are hyper-intelligent moody folk who dress like English Lit professors but can dance like a professor. Of Dance. Drinkers of obscure hard alcohols and either are really really into baseball statistics or hate sports with a  passion, there's no in-between. Book readers. David Foster Wallace devotees. Kurt Vonnegut disciples. Smoked clove cigarettes for a year or two and have secret crushes on everyone they meet. Quirky Wes Andersons, the lot of you. That's my Quebec profiling, am I close at all? 

Hope wardrobe has a decent sweater collection. Hope co-star has decent sweater puppy collection, ammirite, fellas. Since none of the fellas responded I would like to add by "sweater puppies" I meant her boobies.

That's ok, I'm too busy starring in movies and tv shows and living with my wife, Naomi, to discuss this further. Gotta go catch a red-eye to Cannes, no big deal, it's just in FRANCE