I will never try to make you understand how I feel through interpretive dance.
I will never utter the phrase, “this has too much cheese on it.”
If we’re in traffic together, and the 2-lane is ending, and the rest of us are merging every other car, like civilized adults, and you gun it to the end of the merge lane to try and skip ahead a few cars? I will never, ever, ever, ever, ever in a million years, ever let you in.
I will never make fun of your laugh. I think laughing is one of the greatest things a person can do, especially when they really let fly. You’re completely honest and open when you laugh, and it’d be like mocking someone when they’re naked. I don’t care if your laugh sounds like a mule in labor, I love your laugh.
I will never order a sandwich where if you can eat the whole thing in an hour and not throw up, you get a shirt.
I will never understand how the song “Blister in the Sun” continues to appeal to people.
If I ask what time it is, and you tell me it’s 4:20 – or say “four twenty” in any other capacity? I will never be able to resist doing a little stoner laugh and saying “4:20, dude!” while giving you the Dio-rocker-devil-horns. I can’t stop myself. If someday I’m awarded national recognition for years of service, and the president says, “For twenty years he has worked tirelessly…” Listen for the stoner laugh; look for the devil horns.
I will never believe that Greedo shot first.
I will never not warn you that the olive you are about to eat has a pit.
Should I ever learn it, I will never reveal the colonel’s secret recipe. Ah, who’m I kidding. Sure I will.
If you loan me a pen, and I really like it, I will never give it back, willingly.
I will never attempt to sell you beans on the basis that they’re magic, unless I’m reasonably confident of their magic-bearing qualities.
If my dog has you cornered in a room, growling, I will never say, “He’s just playing with you! See? His tail is wagging!”
I suppose I will never know all the things I will never do.