Premedial

Premed.
Remedial.
Premedial.

Classes for people who will not become doctors.

Doctors.
Or something else.
Doctorsomething else.

Historepeat

History.
Repeat.
Historepeat.

They say that not knowing history will lead to repeating it.

But what about the parts that we WANT to repeat? Shouldn't we try and not know them?

Stop teaching about Gandhi and Martin Luther King and Einstein and Thomas Edison and Darwin!

Once we've forgotten all about them, we'll have new ones!

Maybe a Voltron combining them all: a peaceful time-traveling inspirational inventor!

(With the head of a lion! And arms that are also the heads of lions! But that used to be the heads of monkeys! Go Voltron!)

Evolve.
Voltron.
Evolvtron.

Prompetition

Prom.
Competition.
Prompetition.

Last night I did my second 3:30am after-prom comedy show.
(You might call it my sophomore prom performance, if I only do four and each represents a year of high school.
But why would you or I do this or that?*)

Sophomore.
Moratorium.
Sophomoratorium.

This one was definitely better than the first one I did.
(Which wouldn't have taken much, but actually did give lots more than much.**)

Extra.
Transaction.
Extransaction.

So, future me is winning the war against past me.
(Where the battleground is a minefield of potentially unhappy students who could explode at any moment. Or fall asleep.)

Sleepy.
Epic.
Sleepic.

And that's the way you want it...
When your future fights your past, you want the future to kick ass.
(It's a rhyme that sounds logical, so it MUST be true.)

Logic.
Iconic.
Logiconic.


* I know, I'm the one that brought it up.
(It's what I do. Bring things up and then smash them down.)

Hypocrite.
Ritual.
Hypocritual.


** Make sense much?
What I'm saying is, the show was good.
(Way better than my conveying of this message, in fact.)

Sensible.
Bleary.
Sensibleary.


(See also Promenada.)

Sorrizona

Sorry.
Arizona.
Sorrizona.

I went on ABC News Now earlier today. So not now anymore. Before. I went on ABC News Now before. Understand?

They asked me about ASU's decision not to give Obama an honorary degree, and how I felt about it, because he seemed fine with it.

My girlfriend is actually from Arizona and, in preparation for my appearance (before Now, or before then, if you will), told me that Arizona was one of the last states to recognize MLK's birthday as a holiday, and then only because they were afraid they couldn't have the Superbowl if they didn't.

That said, she pointed out that it's difficult to get an honorary degree if you don't have any honor.

So, she said that before Now, so that I could say it on Now, and now that it's later (after Now), I just wanted to clear something up, because the person interviewing me said "ouch" and apologized to their Arizona listeners.

And I wanted to apologize for a couple things:

1) For saying on air "no offense," because that's lame.
2) For NOT saying on air that this point had come from a smart person FROM Arizona.
3) For not having a third thing to apologize for.
4) For creating a paradox that may destroy the universe but hasn't yet, it seems.

That's all.

ASU.
Sucka.
A SUcka.

(Seriously, no offense.)

Promenada

Promenade.
Nada.
Promenada.

At 3am today, I performed for a comedy club full of kids who had just come from their high school proms. Exciting!

Dance.
Antsy.
Dantsy.

You see, comedy clubs provide an important service: preventing underage drinking and providing a late-night venue for these kids that is not a hotel room.

Marriott.
Riotous.
Marriottous.

Because teenagers having sex is usually just a last resort activity, after all possible comedy options have been exhausted, when they just end up settling for some wacky bedroom antics which follow the less hilarious opening act of the hotel staff.*

Bellhop.
Hopeless.
Bellhopeless.

So I did my duty today in the fight against teen pregnancy.

Unless you count my impregnating them with a laughter fetus that incubated immediately and repeatedly.

Talk about hysterical pregnancies. (Boom.)

Guffaw.
Awesome.
Guffawesome.


* Hotel "staff" not at all intended to be a play on words that could imply the hotel staff are being inappropriate with the children.

Unless there are hotels running secret child sex rings (then pun coincidentally intended).

Brothel.
Hilton.
Brothilton.

Literatureka

Literature.
Eureka.
Literatureka.

When my grandmother was in the second grade, she wanted a library card, but her school's rules held that you had to be in at least the third grade to get one.

(Why would this be a rule?
If you know what a library is, and you still want to go there?
It's not like it's a bar, and 7-year-olds can't handle their knowledge.)

Tipsy.
Silly.
Tipsilly.

So she told the librarian that she WAS in the third grade to combat this discrimination.

Espionage.
Ageism.
Espionageism.

She put the "lie" in "library," thankfully not in writing, or it would have given her away.

Deceitful.
Foolish.
Deceitfoolish.

But she was found out eventually.
The school called her mother, who came and disciplined her physically.

What do you say to a child when punishing them for wanting to read?

"This will teach you to want to learn!"

Hypocrisy.
Seeking.
Hypocriseeking.

And that's how my grandmother became a zen master.

Bubby.
Buddha.
Bubbha.

Chewbacchalaureate

Chewbaca.
Bacchalaureate.
Chewbacchalaureate.

A degree in subject matter that was relevant long, long ago, that you should remain in a galaxy far, far away from.

Jedi.
Diploma.
Jediploma.

Bracefaculty

Braceface.
Faculty.
Bracefaculty.

When anyone in my elementary school got braces, the third-grade teacher would buy them a milkshake.

Kismet.
Metalmouth.
Kismetalmouth.

Kids would show up, flash a crooked metallic smile, and be on their way to Milkshake Town.*

Frappe.
Appreciated.
Frappreciated.

It made me jealous, because I liked milkshakes, too.

Why wasn't I the lucky one with misshapen teeth that would lead to years of physical and emotional pain due to the Eiffel Tower being glued into my mouth (plus a delicious milkshake right now)?

Discomfort.
Orthodontist.
Discomforthodontist.

In time, I finally got my wish...
My own braces, my own milkshake, and my own regret!

Moral of the story: kids do not know how to prioritize.

Futile.
Utilitarianism.
Futilitarianism.

Also, is a sugary drink really the best gift for a child with already unhealthy teeth?

Dentistry.
Treat.
Dentistreat.

Other moral of the story: adults do not know how to prioritize.

Cavity.
Teacher.
Caviteacher.


* Not the name of a real town.
Also not the name of a real neighborhood (like Chinatown).
Possibly the name of a real place that sells milkshakes.
(Or if not already, then I call it. Hello, royalties!)

Lactating.
Ingenuity.
Lactatingenuity.

Partnerd

Partner.
Nerd.
Partnerd.

The smart kid in high school that you weren't friends with but were happy to pretend that you were in order to avoid doing any of the work that you were assigned to do as a group.

You know, me.

Pretend.
Friends.
Pretriends.

Just kidding, everyone.

This was more of an eighth-grade phenomenon for me.

I helped a popular kid pass vocabulary tests by tilting my paper towards him.
In exchange, he would smile at me with his popular face.

In fairness, he did have a good enough vocabulary to have convinced me that this was a good idea. *

And what's done is done. **

Irrevocable.
Vocabulary.
Irrevocabulary.


* And that kid became Obama's Secretary of Vocabulary.
Or at least that's what he made up for his Wikipedia page.
Or at least that's what I made up for this blog.

Faux.
Vocab.
Fauxcab.


** Also, what's dumb is dumb.

Prostitutor

Prostitute.
Tutor.
Prostitutor.

You can't teach an old dog new tricks.

So don't pay an old dog for sex.

Unless they learned a bunch of tricks when they were younger.

Then go for it.

Canine.
Ineptitude.
Canineptitude.

Larsenile

Larsen.
Senile.
Larsenile.

My high school guidance counselor's name was "Lars Larsen."

First name: Lars.
Last name: Larsen. (This word starts with "Lars." See why this is noteworthy?)

When coming up with the name, did his parents forget that their last name already started with "Lars"?
e.g. "I love how 'Lars' sounds. I don't know why. It just has a nice familiar feeling to it."

So, "Lars Larsen" it was.

Name.
A Mess.
Namess.

Also, I had a gym teacher whose name was "Jim Soc."
For reals. High school was a wild time for me.
(Oh, and he might have gone by "Coach Soc," but we knew his first name was "James.")

Was this planned? Was it preordained? Was gym teaching the family business?

Prepare.
Parents.
Preparents.

We may never know. Or care.