I Know A Guy

I know a guy who fell asleep on the toilet and later asked me if I had ever done the same thing.

I knew a French guy named Guy (pronunciation rhymes with Bye, not Bee) who had a sex change operation but didn't change her name.

I know another French guy (Henri, not Guy) who hates Jerry Lewis.

I know a Chinese guy who jumped off a chair two seconds before the earthquake hit San Francisco in 1989.

I know a guy who custom orders Sudokus with every 1 filled in and two random 9s and he solves them in less than twenty minutes.

I know a guy who sings the long-forgotten second verse to "The Star-Spangled Banner" at sporting events.

I know a guy who knows a guy who swears he knew me in 1957, years before I was born.

I know a guy who puts ketchup on celery and calls it lunch.

I know another guy who prefers the word catsup.

I know a guy who claims he saw Thomas Pynchon knitting a shawl in the Detroit Greyhound station the same week Jimmy Hoffa disappeared.

I know a guy who, after telling his friends he was going to propose to his girlfriend on a weekend trip, chickened out. He came home and had to go to the bathroom where he sat in embarrassed horror as his girlfriend checked the answering machine and heard a message from one of his friends asking how the proposal went.

I know a different guy who, on his honeymoon, got knocked senseless by a wave and as his new bride hovered over him on the beach to see if he was all right said to her, "Don't panic. I know I should know your name, but I can't remember it."

I know a guy, a pretty good athlete, who could never synchronize coughing and opening a contraband can of pop in biology class and who eventually had me cover cough for him.

I know a guy who once won a lip synch contest lip synching to an instrumental.

I know two learned guys who, while waiting in a long ride at an amusement park, started joking in Classical Latin about all the weird people around them. They became conscious of two middle-aged women nearby who seemed to be laughing with them a bit too much. Finally the women told the guys that they were nuns and understood everything the guys were saying and wanted to tell them before the guys started talking about them, the nuns.

I know a guy who used to go into work in the morning, leave his jacket on his desk, go out to the racetrack all day, come back and get his jacket, and go home.

I know a guy who was the last to leave a party and two minutes later knocked on the hosts' door and when they opened it said, "I locked my keys in the car. Do you have a brick?"

I know a guy who claimed he didn't know any guys who had ever done anything special until I told him I once wrestled a bear.