I have a speech writer on staff, so everything I say every day is actually scripted. If I pause and look like I’m listening to you, if you look very closely I have a tiny ear piece in my ear and I’m just waiting on my next line. It doesn’t work well if I get out of range that’s why I say stupid stuff sometimes.
Before I came to University, I came up with an idea for “hand de-sanitizer” for our government and other important people. So if our leaders were meeting with people they didn’t like they could “germ ‘em up”. I apparently brought this up to the wrong member of my city council.
I actually had such long legs as a child that my parents took me to a specialist in Prague and had them shortened. So technically I am 2 metres tall.
I once solved 99 problems in under a minute and in fact none of them were a bitch.
One time a cab driver told me that I was the most interesting person he had ever met. So interesting in fact that he not only said “hey this rides on me”. He’s now my butler and driver and all I have to pay him is in interesting stories. I ran out of stories but he’s old so I’ve just been telling him stuff from Indiana Jones movies for the past few months.
I invented the term “Pardon my French” accidentally when I ordered in French at a joint in Italy. Quite embarrassing when I had to re-order in Italian and then explain the whole ordeal in Japanese to my friend.
Robert Pattinson is based off me. No, not the character from the movie. I mean him the actual human being. I don’t know why people don’t notice my sexy accent or height or perfect cheekbones. It keeps me up at night.
My cellphone isn’t even connected to anything. Anytime I’m talking on it I am just recording my voice so I can have a conversation with myself later.
By some weird birth defect my body is made of 30 percent beer. So when I had house parties when I was younger I never had to get a keg, I just spit in my friends mouths. Kinda also accounts for my constant haziness and sluggish way of life.
I don’t really know how to play the sax. But I’ve just about gotten the hang of how to hold one.
“I don’t own 800 hoodies. I actually have them on loan. I rent them. Call me frugal.
I once blew a breathalyzer to perfect pi 3.1415926- the officer was so impressed that we had a drink and then i drove home to someone else’s house.
“Yesterday I was backing out of my driveway, and a dog ran over me. He told me he had insurance but when I called the number, it was for a pizza shop. That motherfucker.”
I’m not Jamaine Chiwaye, I just play him on TV.
I’m not Jamaine Chiwaye, I just play him in real life.
The actual Jamaine Chiwaye died on February 13th, 2006. The current is a scene kid who was heavily drugged and forced to undergo plastic surgery to resemble Jamaine Chiwaye. His days are spent in agony, his nights crying plastic tears.