Wipe that stupid smile off your face, and take the words “So… when are you due?” out of your vocabulary. She’s not pregnant. And you’re dead.
Everyone enjoys jumping on a bed. Not everyone is aware of a spinning ceiling fan directly above it.
When you feel compelled to attempt lighting your farts on fire to impress your girlfriend (science!) – stay away from flammables, and keep an extinguisher handy. Just in case.
Resist the urge to kiss a woman while she’s having an orgasm! She’s prone to sudden moves. Her teeth might turn out to be stronger than yours, and you will have a hard time trying to explain the damage to your dentist.
I’m not sure how else to put it, so I’ll just say it. Don’t take a sleeping pill and a laxative together. Just don’t, okay?
Wisdoh (wiz-d’oh) is a short-form literary genre. You know, like haiku or limerick, but without any silly line and syllable restrictions. Undeniably, it is the best way to describe your shortcomings, screw-ups, faux pas, epic fails, temporary loss of intelligence, or anything that rapidly deteriorates into a socially awkward situation.
Self-deprecation is highly encouraged.
There’s only one way to achieve Wisdoh, and it involves three simple steps:
1. Do something.
2. Find out that it was stupid.
3. Now you know.
A typical Wisdoh consists of two parts:
You: I desperately need some Listerine.
Your reader: ?
You: If you absolutely must unclog your toilet – do yourself a favor, and plunge with your mouth closed.
Your reader: I see what you did there.