I have bad reflexes. I was once run over by a car being pushed by two guys.
The curtain rises on a vast primitive wasteland, not unlike certain parts of New jersey.
The meaning of life is that nobody knows the meaning of life.
Men would make love with any number of women ... even total strangers, while females were selective. They were catering to the demands of one small egg. While males had millions of frantic sperms screaming: "Let us out, let us out!".
See, I never gain an ounce, because, you know, my anxiety acts like aerobics.
Geez, I should stop ruining my life searching for answers I'm never gonna get, and just enjoy it while it lasts.