Jarod Kintz - One of my favorite people ever.

ABOUT JAROD KINTZ :


 Jarod Kintz : I've been rejected by the finest creative writing program, and also the not so finest creative writing program.

The first rejection was from the University of Iowa's MFA program, possibly the best creative writing program in the universe, and the second rejection was by the University of Wyoming's MFA program--the anti number one writing program in the universe.

There are more cattle than people in Wyoming, and like a mindless cow, I thought I'd follow the herd to graduate school to wait out this depression.

But I didn't get in so I had to get on with my writing career on my own. I've been writing for about a decade now, and I'm getting better every ten years. I went from terrible to tolerable, and in 2021 I hope to be Tolstoy.

So enjoy my work, and bear with me. I am much like my writing: a work in progress.

Posted by Jarod Kintz on his blog :

1. I want to gain wisdom by the pound, and be the world’s fattest philosopher.
2. I want to blossom into a better person. Or flower.
3. I want to cup my hands over my ears, and drink up the sound of your voice.
4. I want to someday be forced to eat my own words and then immediately vomit up an unabridged dictionary.
5. I want to gain wisdom through osmosis while I strap a Bible to my back and do sit-ups on Solomon’s corpse.
6. I want to stop crying about the things I cannot control. Things like the weather, poor management decisions at work (my employer is an unemployment agency), or genetically-engineered, remote-controlled onions.
7. I want to laugh with a giraffe over a few long necks at the bar.
8. I want the weather to dictate my moods, as I plan to develop an umbrella personality, or one that’s elegant and functional on either a rainy or sunny day.
9. I want to be a kitten, and drink milk from a saucer that flies around probing the mysteries of the universe, as well as the south-pole orifices of farmers like Orafoura.
10. I want to be so spontaneous that I combust.
11. I want to be so bored that I sleep all day. I even want to be bored while I am dreaming, causing me to sleep even longer.
12. I want to both blend in and stand out from the crowd. I want to be Waldo. I want to live in Waldo, Fl. And I want to die Waldoing it with my wife.
13. I want to wear a snorkel mask, an inner tube around my waist, and flippers on my feet to my own wedding. And I want Flipper to be my best mammal.
14. I want to develop crow’s feet at the corner of my eyes, and then flap my eyelids open and closed so fast that my eyes rip out of my sockets and fly away.
15.I want a checking account equipped with trampoline springs so I can bounce as many checks as I’d like.
16. I want to have rainbow-colored tears, and eat yellow cake that smells like asparagus piss.
17. I want to be in the Guinness Book of World Record's for something ridiculous like juggling poison-tipped porcupines, playing the piano blindfolded while tightrope walking in tights, or throwing a rubber ball in a circular rim adorned with a dangling white nylon net.
18. I want to get rid of this overwhelming feeling of feeling overwhelmed.
19. I want to have seven kids, all being born on different days of the week, in different time zones, and different dimensions. My favorite will be named Thursday, born on Thursday, and born in 3D.
20. I want to do as I please, thank you very much.
21. I don't want any little kids picking up my bad habit, especially when my bad habit is lifting really heavy objects. I'd be crushed if that happened, and so would they.
22. I want to eat fossilized fuselages, to give myself a real energy boost.
23. I want a crayon color named after me, somewhere in the blue family, the green family, or the Kintz family.
24. I want to put antennas in my dog food, to listen to something I normally wouldn’t listen to while I eat something I normally wouldn’t eat.
25. I want to use my magnetic personality to attract and date big, beautiful refrigerators.
26. I want to start conversations in the middle. The middle of nowhere.
27. I want to rearrange all the numbers in the universe. So instead of ascending chronologically, as they do now, I’d make them descend chronoillogically, or however they haphazardly happened to fall down the numerical staircase.
28. I want to burrow money from a gopher, if one would even gopher it.
29. I want to talk about nothing, because it’s all I really know. And I barely know anything about nothing. But at least it’s something. And something is everything when you’re talking about nothing.
30. I want to be the dough in every situation, and rise to the occasion.
31. I want to duct tape a common housecat to my chin for two reason: One, so that I might finally have facial hair, and Two, so that people might find it more socially acceptable when I eat cat food.
32. I want to be the biggest name-dropper you know. Mostly I’ll drop the White Pages, but only if you’re wearing flip-flops.
33. I want to remain motionless until my extremities become one with soundlessness, and I penetrate your eardrums like water through a porous sponge.
34. I want to send a mute messenger in a bottle made of soundproof glass.
35. I want to be like a pyramid, only not so pointy and covered in sand. But I do want to stand the test of time, and occasionally sit down and be quizzed by space.
36. I want to be as poetic as April, who rose from the grave like a Floribunda springs into life, single-file style, in March. May she rest in peace.
37. I want to maintain balance through symmetry.
38. I want to always be there, even if that means I can’t move from that one spot. Because, logically, if I’m always there, I can’t be here or anywhere else. But at least you’ll be able to find me, even if I’m still trying to find myself.
39. I want to can cannibals, to preserve their dignity, and also so I can store them away and eat them later.
40. I want, and I can, can Canadian cannibals suffering from skin cancer from so much sun in Cancun that it looks like they have cantaloupe rind canvassing their bodies in canal-like creases.
41. I want to weigh my options, and then choose the most obese one.
42. I want to explain: I always found the statement, “It is what it is” to be backwards. It should be, “It is what it is.” Switching those two words “is” around makes a significant syntactical difference.
43. I want to understand the elements that compose courage in the same way I understand the periodic table. I feel that by knowing the periodic table of courage I can be courageous, at least periodically.
44. I want to use silence as a weapon, though I probably wouldn’t attempt to stab someone with it.
45. I want to find a goose that lays golden eggs, so I can enjoy a breakfast that satisfies both my flamboyant and fiscally conservative nature.
46. I want Band-Aids. In fact, I want them both so much that my feet start bleeding sometimes.
47. I want to be in a state of mind shaped like Florida. Wait, I already have residency in that particular state of mind.
48. I want to see one weasel gain wisdom by eating the brain of a smarter, but slumbering, weasel.
49. I want to be hungry for knowledge, because somebody, perhaps Orafoura, told me wisdom tasted like lasagna.
50. I want to own something that really reflects me as a person. Something like a mirror.
51. I want to amaze myself ten years from now, when I look back at how far I’ve come. Hopefully, I’ll have gone at least ten feet.
52. I want to tell you, your friend, and your friend’s friend a story. But I don’t want to repeat myself so I’ll wait until we are all assembled together. I hate repetition, and even walking bores me to tears. That’s why I cry sometimes after I‘ve taken more than a few strides.
53. I want to find myself. Even at 26, I’m still trying to find myself. That’s why I don’t worry about identity theft. Because how can somebody steal my identity when I don’t really even know who I am?
54. I want to dress like an existential philosopher, and would wear something flashy, like a camera costume, to really sieze the moment.
55. I want someone to make deodorant that smelled like grilled chicken, because I’d love to spend all day trying to lick my own armpits.
56. I want to finish a marathon, but I just don't want to start.
57. I want to be part of the crowd, yet stand out from it.
58. I want to start thinking of time as a bubble. A bubble man can’t yet pop. A bubble man can’t blow. A bubble man can’t use to scrub his genitalia.
59. I want a state-of-the-art piece of art that represents the state I live in and the state of mind of an artist named Art, who happens to live in my own imagination, though he pays no rent.
60. I want enough courage to last me a lifetime, as I rush headlong into certain slaughter.
61. I want to go fishing for aliens using wormholes as bait.
62. I want a “greener” strategic, methodological phrase than “exhausting all the possibilities.” All that exhaust may not cause global warming for Mother Earth, but it sure does heat up both hemispheres of my cerebral cortex.
63. I want the US government to dispense with all the “red tape,” and start using Caution tape.
64. I want to be a better lover, but I don’t want her to feel bad, so I tell her she’s the best. But we both know I’m better.
65. I want to tell you my simple plan for this year’s flu season. The next time you lose your voice, try a double-shot of whiskey at your local Speakeasy. You probably won’t get your voice back, but as the name of the establishment implies, you don’t need one.
66. I want my destiny to align with the stars. That way I can watch my future through a telescope.
67. I want to be pure like water. I also want to come in a bottle.
68. I want to start a fire on a fur coat, because I’ll bet it will be that much warmer, especially if I am wearing the coat at the time.
69. I want to be a doctor/comedian, and take comedy so seriously that every patient who complains of chest pains will be diagnosed with E.L.S., or Excessive Laughter Syndrome. And in my book, the one that’s shaped like firewood and should be burned, there’s only one remedy for E.L.S.: More laughing.
70. I want to hang myself with a one-liner about a noose that walks into a bar and has its stool kicked out from under it.
71. I want to wear hairnets in my free time, and then refuse to wear them in the kitchen. It’ll be both my fashion statement and my social one.
72. I want to go to Seattle and see gray skies, because they always make me feel so blue.
73. I want to face my fears, really put a nose, two lips, and eyes on them. Then I’ll tell them I don’t recognize them, that they should go put some monster makeup on if they expect to frighten me anymore.
74. I want to amass a vast fortune in cookies. But not fortune cookies. I want to make that as crisp as the crunch a fortune cookie makes when you snap it in half to read the cryptic and often prophetic wisdom it encloses.
75. I want to sell free time, and my target market is everyone.
76. I want to write a story about an Origami dragon that can’t breathe fire for fear it would set itself ablaze.
77. I want to tweeze my own understanding of the theory of evolution, and trim out those laggardly, ape-like eyebrow hairs.
78. I want election booths to distribute electroshock therapy to those people who treat the presidential voting process like preparations for Jesus' birthday. Just because it's Scantron-like, and weeks away from December, doesn't mean you can Christmas tree your answers.
79. I want to capture the spirit of the American people, and then sell it on eBay to the Chinese.
80. I want to get a divorce, but first I’ll have to get married.
81. I want to lay my hands on the largest fortune I can hold while wearing a baseball glove and an oven mitt.
82. I want to remain true to my false sense of security.
83. I want to take out a ten million dollar loan, and then use that money to become a New York Times Best-Selling author.
84. I want to find another way to steal your heart, besides breaking in through your rib cage.
85. I want to kayak on a crisp morning, wearing a coyote-fur coat, down the Alliteration River.
86. I want to become a magician just to saw a man in half, because that man is my half-brother, Zeno.
87. I want to clone my half-brother, Zeno, because two half-brothers nearly makes a whole brother.
88. I want to get snakeskin boots, to make it easier to slide around on the floor.
89. I want to fight fires with boxing gloves shaped like oven mitts.
90. I want to have dialogue with Dial, as I try to talk with a mouthful of soap.
91. I want to tell you that Orafoura is a metaphor for myself, but the truth is he’s much bigger than that. Probably bigger by several inches and a few dozen pounds.
92. I want to finish what I start, and Finnish what I Swedish.
93. I want my name in her heart, but first I’ll have to cross out Jarvik-7.
94. I want to have my hip replaced with something cooler.
95. I want to change the younger generation, one diaper at a time.
96. I want to eat enough carrots to improve my vision, so that I can see wisely into the future.
97. I want to stand behind the products I sell, which are life-size cardboard cutouts of real-life leaders such as Napoleon, Jefferson, and myself.
98. I want to make broccoli-wisdom soup, and then fart foolishly all night long.
99. I want my love of cows to grow, and that’s why I feed it milk, for the calcium and Vitamin D. But I only give my love milk after I’ve milked what I love.
100. I want to drive delirious, and be deliriously driven.
101. I want to get a leg up over everyone, but first I need to grow a ladder disguised as two extremities, and I'll need another leg.
102. I want to be so orally lascivious that I put the “lust” back in filibuster. But, then, I also desire the purple plum of plumage that only a peacock possesses.
103. I want you to know that curiosity didn’t kill the cat. It just made the cat sleep away eight of it’s nine lives. It’s mentally exhausting being so inquisitive.
104. I want to sell midget bits of online content, rather than widgets that cost money to produce, store, and ship.
105. I want to be the best mother I can be, without having two breasts, a vagina, or a child.
106. I want wisdom like I want to whiz. So let me lift the lid to my mind, and hope that I don’t splash too much.
107. I want to turn back the hands of time, but not before I extend my right arm, and shake one hand as I scream, “Slow down!”
108. I want to be named Sunday, and have all Saturdays fall before me and grovel at my feet.
109. I want to grow a handlebar mustache, and then tell the world, “Save the environment by riding your bicycles.” That way I won’t encounter any traffic, as I’ll be the only car on the road.
110. I want to have faith in my belief.
111. I want to achieve immortality by being as vigilant and observant as a covert secret agent. Two hands stealthily and steadily moving around in the middle of the night is not going to happen on my watch.
112. I want to corner the market, and then put windows there.
113. I want to wear a robe woven from sunlight by Rembrandt, and bathe in a bath drawn by da Vinci.
114. I want to tell you a secret I’m taking to my grave. It’s about my headstone.
115. I want to be an encyclopedia, and then I’d have more content in my life.116. I want to go into business with the fourth Earl of Sandwich, because I’ll bet we could make a lot of bread together, if I play off of him and he lets me ham it up.
117. I want to jam up Mother Nature, to help preserve life.
118. I want to spend more time saving time.
119. I want to find friends who are like myself, and if I can’t find them, I’ll clone them.
120. I want to change the way we look at litter boxes, as we put the “cat” back in scatological.
121. I want to be free as a fish, just not one that’s been canned and merchandised.
122. I want to develop a mental wetsuit, and then apply to work at a think tank.
123. I want to find my inner child, and then encourage him to steal my imagination cookies.
124. I want my depression to go all Amelia Earhart and just disappear forever.
125. I want to become such a minimalist that I’m nothing more than a straight line. Actually, that’s too much. I just want to be a single point. When I reach a point in my life when I am a solitary point, I imagine I’ll come to see the point of life.126. I want everything that comes out of my mouth to be as wise as wisdom teeth.127. I want to keep money under my mattress, because it helps me sleep better.128. I want to take my life in a different direction. Most likely Northwest.129. I want to collect information in an oil barrel and then sell it to Saudi Arabia for over four dollars a gallon.130. I want my experiences to meet my expectations. I just don’t want to be present at that meeting.131. I want to fill a pool up with my sorrows. Then I want to swim in my despair, but I don’t want to drown in it.
132. I want to turn the abstract into grass, and use it to help break through the concrete things in life.
133. I want to start a band called “The Neurotransmitters.” We’ll cater to the brainier individual.
134. I want to capture my natural high, convert it to reinforced concrete, and then build a skyscraper so that I can live on the top floor.
135. I want my neurotransmitters to morph into nuevotransmitters, because in this recession, all the old ones have been fired.
136. I want to contradict myself. No I don’t.
137. I want bread baked in a basking sun oven mitt, Romney Tuesday, but not on Wednesdays.
138. I want to have an eight-finger militia, and the only possibly opposable things would be thumbs. If I had ten fingers under my control, I’d win everything hands down.
139. I want to put milk, ice cream, and a stream of monosyllabic words in a blender and make a few Haiku milkshakes. I’ll bet literature never tasted so good.
140. I want to listen to a band called “The Pepperonis” that sound like cardboard-tasting pizza feels.
141. I want to cut pizza that tastes like cardboard with box cutters, and make a dwelling for a homeless person. That way that person will have both food and shelter. Food, shelter, and a mozzarella mustache, what more could a person want out of life?
142, I want to replace the smelted brass in brass knuckles with melted cheese, and then give you a painfully delicious knuckle-cheese sandwich.
143. I want to bear the weight of a bare bear on my shoulders, which will probably be lighter than the homemade homonym hoodie that I currently have on.
144. I want to make a music muzzle, and place it over my ears so that other people’s vocal chords don’t try to strangle or beat on my ear drums.
145. I want to write a book called “Stranded: How to Survive on an Island by Yourself.” My book will not only be informational, it will also be edible.
146. I want to remember that deaf heifer like she was yesterday. I can't remember yesterday, because I slept all day. I slept through my alarm, because I had the volume turned down and the sign language turned up.
147. I want a hippocampus as powerful as a hippopotamus, so I could remember the little details in life, like what the hippocampus actually does.
148. I want to rename the hippocampus the elephancampus, because, after all, don’t elephants have better memories than hippos?
149. I want to merge the abstract with the concrete. That way I can get my exercise by writing a run-on sentence about taking a dog for a walk
.150. I want to merge the abstract with the concrete. So instead of having an abstraction like “Love,” and its concrete byproduct, “Kissing,” I’ll have one word that meets in the middle and represents both. This “ideathing” will not only have to be touchable, taste-able, and visible, but it will also have to be an intellectual feather that gently tickles your brain.
151. I want to say thanks to all the people. Who helped me out along the way to here. Even if you didn’t help me out, either intentionally or through negligence, you ended up helping me out. Some of you I’d like to thank personally. Others I’d like to thank impersonally.
152. I want to take away the prefix of the word “suffix,” because it sounds like it’s painful and full of suffering.
153. I want to morph a free morpheme into merchandized morphine, and make money without losing semantic meaning.
154. I want to give you the key to my heart. It also happens to unlock and start my car.
155. I want to tell you how little he thinks of me, while I think of him all the time, and as all the time, I wish he occupied no space. For if space/time is a couple, then all of one leaves none of the other.
156. I don’t want to be feared, I want a pointier forehead and a first name of Feread.157. I want to save ten dollars every day for the rest of my life, and then use all that cash to have a blowout funeral party. At my wake, all eyes will not only be dry, they’ll be wide awake.
158. I want my death to leave such a wake that the ripples flow above all who watch over my corpse.
159. I want the currency backed not by gold, but by umbrellas. That would help motivate me to “save for a rainy day.”160. I want to ostracize and ostrich, but only if I’m in Germany and it’s in Austria.161. I want to stop treating circles like squares, squares like squires, squires like they’re something noble, noble things like they are lofty, lofty things like they are high, high things like they are on drugs, drugs like they are necessary for O.C.D., and O.C.D. like it compulsively compels one to complete all circles, which, in this case, it did.
162. I want to write about a sunset where the pinks parallel the blues, which loses its hue to violet, which in turn spreads to salmon with a sweet orange glaze smothering it. It would be the tastiest sunset my eyes might ever consume.
163. I want to eat more honey than sugar. But that's easy, since sugar doesn't eat honey. But, Honey, I sure do eat sugar.164. I want to know if the opposite of an animal is a dead animal.
165. I want to cry you a river, but not before I build you a canoe.
166. I want to make my money last. Through fiscal conservation, I’ll be able to sleep, play, and then lastly get that pay.167. I want to restore order to the lengthy menu called “The People,” by which our grossly obese government feeds.
168. I want to better understand consumers. So I’ll snap the word into “con,” meaning “with,” and “sumer,” meaning an ancient people living in Mesopotamia. So basically a consumer is anybody associated with ancient Sumerians. And I just can’t get down with the people who invented the wheel. But, being a writer and orator like Orafoura, I can relate to the people who took the wheel and spoke.
169. I want to tell my overbearing doctor, “Any sort of pill, or people pushing me around, I just won’t take.”
170. I want to read your mind your business, you tell me, but I won’t hear you, because you never actually said it.
171. I want the Suez canal, as well as my emotions, to be drained using a high-powered water vacuum and a few sentimental citizens with spoons.
172. I want to be left alone all right, but that’s too intellectually ambidextrous for a non-directional being such as myself.
173. I want to save the world, and I want to do so in my bank account. Well, not right now, of course. I’ll wait until this economic turmoil is over.
174. I want to teach homeless people to be able to count their blessings, but first I need to teach them how to count.175. I want to meet a man named Skip Rox. I’d skip rocks before I’d skip that meeting.
176. I want to recall the joys my first birthday, but I was too young to remember. I couldn’t have been any older than three or four at the time.
177. I want to live on a globe, rather than the earth, because I really want to be a part of someone’s study.
178. I want to live in a glass planet, and stare at the night sky at noon.
179. I want to ask an alligator if he thinks all politicians have big mouths.180. I want to remember our fallen heroes. And after I’ve spent a day remembering them, I want to extend my arm and help them up.
181. I want to ask a rabbit if it would allow itself to get all hopped up on a politician’s promise of hope, with the expectation that it’d reply, “That wouldn’t get my vote cast, nor heal my broken foot.”
182. I want to ask a coin machine what it thinks about politicians promising change.
183. I want to finally get this monkey off my back. But first I think I’m going to have to stop dressing like a tree.
184. I want to claim that I am mightier than Paul Bunyan. He might have chopped down many trees, but if I had a typewriter, instead of Microsoft Word, I’d have deleted an entire forest.
185. I want to build a language shed, because, after all, language is a tool. I just have to figure out how large to make the shed, to successfully accommodate the ever-expanding English language, along with my riding lawnmower.
186. I want to make love like the most romantic thing ever, but I just don’t know how to go about learning how to fornicate like a flower.
187. I want to ask the world’s loudest shoe horn what it thinks about politicians, with the expectation that it’s reply, “Give your elected official an inch, or twelve, and he’ll take your whole foot.”
188. I want a Sloppy Joe, even though I’m unthoroughly starving.
189. I want to own a suitcase of shame, that holds all my folded-up failures, and take it to the airport in the hopes that they lose it. Their failure will engulf my failures. That piece of luggage holding all my losses will itself be lost, and that will enable me to move forward with a wardrobe of wins in my mental closet.190. I want to merge a watch with a comforter, because, after all, time is man’s blanket, covering us from birth to death. So we might as well try to keep more than our wrists warm191. I want to embrace my time here on earth, in the same manner that a watch embraces a wrist.192. I want to understand the nature of a business that manufactures leaves, bark, roots, and still-life pieces of art.193. I want to believe that crowds are smarter than a single expert, but I’ll leave the herd mentality to the deaf lemmings.194. I want to make an hourglass big enough to hold all the sand in the world, and then have that be the ticker for my lifespan. And after I’m dead, I give your great, great, great grandchildren permission to sort and collect all the sharks teeth from my life, just so long as after they’re done sifting through all the sand, they build a sandcastle the size of Windsor, as a monument to my memory.195. I want to change my last name to Bekowsky. Then I’d go around saying, “The answer to the eternal question, ‘why?’ is simply Bekowsky.”
196. I want to take eminent action, but only in the immediate moments following my nap.
197. I want to concoct an invention I’ll call the “Portable Mass Hysteria Modulator,” which will manipulate markets from greed to fear, and conversely, fear to greed. Not only will this device help me make a fortune, and come equipped with a metal clip that enables it to affix itself onto your car’s sun visor, but it will also be able to open and close your garage door.198. I want to be the mouth through which the people find their voice. And I want you, yes you, to brush my teeth.199. I want to be a matador in the bull market, but not so I can make a killing. Rather, I just want to wear flamboyant and form-fitting pants that emphasize my genitalia as I stroll down Wall Street.
200. I want to shave the peach fuzz off a yellow tennis ball, and then spray paint it blue. I feel this will help me live “greener.”
201. I want to spend my time perfecting my high-five, rather than actually training to put myself in a position to receive high-fives.202. I want to write the Mercedes of books, complete with the hood, or cover, ornament.
203. I want to build a house out of bricks and muerte. It won’t be just any sort of house. It’ll be a funeral home.
204. I want to place one million monks on typewriters, to see if they can accidentally and randomly produce a Shakespearean work. Of course, they will be copying from original Old English texts.
205. I want to ask you if you know how to fit 90 nuns in a noun? Well, the Mythical Mr. Boo would say you put them in a church. So not only is he mythical AND handsome, but he also happens to be right.
206. I want to build a bridge in Boston out of birds. It’ll be the world’s first bridge that doesn’t freeze over, because it will be the first bridge that flies south for the winter.
207. I want to genetically modify the common cold and crossbreed it with all the time in the universe. So, if you happen to catch this cold, not only will you live forever, but you also won’t be able to stop sneezing.
208. I want Dendrite McDowell to wear a diaper helmet, because he has shit for brains. But dendrite does have a lot of nerve, I will give him that.
209. I want to scream sometimes, because I hate when people refer to a dead person as the “late” so and so. I’m sorry to break that bad news, but that person isn’t just late--they’re not even coming!
210. I want to fill up my car with pinecones, and then run over squirrels because I can’t see out my windshield.
211. I want to be an Antite, or one who is descended from Ant. You won’t find us in the history books, but you might just see us at your next picnic.
212. I want to stop being so vulgar, and therefore reduce my chances of getting the common cold.
213. I want to live forever in the shadow of a second.
214. I want to know how watches can hold all the time in the world using only two hands.
215. I want to be part of a movement. But not a bowel movement
.216. I want to brush the old cobwebs off my sex life, and replace them with condoms covered in brand-new cobwebs.
217. I want to have breasts the size of Florida, so that people might see me at Ponte Vedra beach and gasp, “Look at the size of his Naples!”218. I want to be happy and sad at the same time. Yeah, I know it sounds sappy.
219. I want to sever ties with all formal neck wear.220. I want the bank to stop liening over my shoulder.221. I want to hear the wisest words ever uttered, and realize that they were coming from my own quivering lips.
222. I want to make a wisdom hat that not only makes people brighter, but also has a hard surface and reflects light. I recommend it for nighttime philosophizing and bike riding.
223. I want to propose a plan. If homosexuals have the rainbow as their mascot, then heterosexuals should have the umbrella. And we can have our own parades. I’d like to see someone try to rain on our parade.
224. I want to meet a woman from Cork who just wants to screw.
225. I want to tell you that love is the toothpaste of the world. Now that’s a piece of wisdom you can brush your teeth with.
226. I want my name to survive throughout history, but first I need to change my name to “What Goes Up” Kintz, because what goes up is guaranteed to go down in history.
227. I want to stop crying over my losses, but the things that sadden me the most to lose are tear drops. The more I cry, the more I cry.
228. I want to be able to type 60 words per minute without repeatedly typing one-letter words like “I” or “A.”
229. I want to have thicker skin, like an alligator, and then bequeath my body to science so they can make some high-tech alligator boots out of me.
230. I want a ham and cheese sandwich, hold the b.s. You know what I’m talking about. I don’t need a side order of your political rhetoric.
231. I want a side order if side-stitches. Give me something funny.
232. I want to be able to count on something other than my fingers.
233. I want to teach the world to laugh so hard the tears start flowing. And then I want to be their savior, the guy offering the world a tissue and another joke.
234. I want to teach the world to be patient enough to let somebody skip them at the supermarket, because I want to be that somebody skipping everybody at the checkout line.235. I want to meet a living metaphor in the dead of night.
236. I want to feel what it feels like to be inside of a woman’s head. I’ll bet it’s rather squishy.
237. I want to be a cornerstone of society, but I don’t think I can achieve that lofty position without the help of some powerful Masons.
238. I want to assure you, I’m not that kind of pervert.
239. I want the grocery stores to know that as a savvy businessman, I’m not just going to eat the rising cost of food. I also need some protein.
240. I want to hold a meeting of the minds in my hands and massage your brain.
241. I want to sleep in my car one night, just not while I’m driving.
242. I want to order up a batch of cold weather and scrambled eggs tomorrow, like I did today, except, hopefully, tomorrow I’ll get the eggs too.
243. I don’t want to mark my territory, I want to Luke it.
244. I want a shower that drains properly. It’ll make it that much easier to pee there.
245. I want to have sonar, like a bat, and live in a cave, like my uncle Melvin.246. I want to write a story where the main character, Phil McGreedy, is the most philanthropic thief you’ve ever read about. He’ll make Robin Hood look tighter than spandex.
247. I want to convince the scientific community that the air is saturated with boogers. I mean, how else do so many get in my nose?
248. I want to have an On/Off switch on my forehead. It won’t control my mood or my destiny, but it will get the lights.
249. I want to be a purple thing that consumers want, and I simply need to feel like I’m good for you. I’m talking about my desire to be a plum.
250. I want to have the courage to stand up for things I believe in. Things like sitting down.
251. I want to reach an agreement, but my arms are too short.
252. I want to stare into the mirror, while I reflect on things.