Spongebob Quotes

I mean, who cares about SpongeBob SquarePants? I'm sitting here with Wolverine! -random kid talking to Ari

do you ever have dirty thoughts about spongebob?

What, you didn’t pack your lunch?” Ty asked sarcastically as he shifted around in the seat and wedged himself against the door. He kicked a foot up and propped it on the console between the two front seats. “Sure, in my SpongeBob SquarePants lunch box. I have the thermos, too,” Morrison shot right back. Zane kept his mouth shut, eyes moving between the two men, and occasionally back to the driver, who was casually paying attention. Ty stared at the kid and narrowed his eyes further. “Spongewhat?” he asked flatly. Zane didn’t even try to hold back the chuckle when Morrison looked at Ty like he’d lost his mind. “Spongewha … you’re yanking my chain, aren’t you?” Morrison said. “Henny, he’s yanking my chain.” “Yeah, well, that’s what you getting for waving it in his face,” the driver answered reasonably. “What the hell is a SpongeBob?” Ty asked Zane quietly in the backseat.

Did I mention he was wearing a onesie? I’m talking a legit, full-grown man in a SpongeBob onesie.

It’s SpongeBob, Eleanor,” he said, speaking very slowly and clearly as though I were some sort of idiot. “SpongeBob SquarePants?” A semi-human bath sponge with protruding front teeth! On sale as if it were something completely unremarkable! For my entire life, people have said that I’m strange, but really, when I see things like this, I realize that I’m actually relatively normal.

What the hell is a SpongeBob?

From Jess: FANG. I've commented your blog with my questions for THREE YEARS. You answer other people's STUPID questions but not MINE. YOU REALLY ASKED FOR IT, BUDDY. I'm just gonna comment with this until you answer at least one of my questions. DO YOU HAVE A JAMAICAN ACCENT? No, Mon DO YOU MOLT? Gross. WHAT'S YOUR STAR SIGN? Dont know. "Angel what's my star sign?" She says Scorpio. HAVE YOU TOLD JEB I LOVE HIM YET? No. DOES NOT HAVING A POWER MAKE YOU ANGRY? Well, that's not really true... DO YOU KNOW HOW TO DO THE SOULJA BOY? Can you see me doing the Soulja Boy? DOES IGGY KNOW HOW TO DO THE SOULJA BOY? Gazzy does. DO YOU USE HAIR PRODUCTS? No. Again,no. DO YOU USE PRODUCTS ON YOUR FEATHERS? I don't know that they make bird kid feather products yet. WHAT'S YOU FAVORITE MOVIE? There are a bunch WHAT'S YOUR FAVORITE SONG? I don't have favorites. They're too polarizing. WHAT'S YOUR FAVORITE SMELL? Max, when she showers. DO THESE QUESTIONS MAKE YOU ANGRY? Not really. IF I CAME UP TO YOU IN A STREET AND HUGGED YOU, WOULD YOU KILL ME? You might get kicked. But I'm used to people wanting me dead, so. DO YOU SECRETLY WANT TO BE HUGGED? Doesn't everybody? ARE YOU GOING EMO 'CAUSE ANGEL IS STEALING EVERYONE'S POWERS (INCLUDING YOURS)? Not the emo thing again. WHAT'S YOUR FAVORITE FOOD? Anything hot and delicious and brought to me by Iggy. WHAT DID YOU HAVE FOR BREAKFAST THIS MORNING? Three eggs, over easy. Bacon. More Bacon. Toast. DID YOU EVEN HAVE BREAKFAST THIS MORNING? See above. DID YOU DIE INSIDE WHEN MAX CHOSE ARI OVER YOU? Dudes don't die inside. DO YOU LIKE MAX? Duh. DO YOU LIKE ME? I think you're funny. DOES IGGY LIKE ME? Sure DO YOU WRITE DEPRESSING POETRY? No. IS IT ABOUT MAX? Ahh. No. IS IT ABOUT ARI? Why do you assume I write depressing poetry? IS IT ABOUT JEB? Ahh. ARE YOU GOING TO BLOCK THIS COMMENT? Clearly, no. WHAT ARE YOU WEARING? A Dirty Projectors T-shirt. Jeans. DO YOU WEAR BOXERS OR BRIEFS? No freaking comment. DO YOU FIND THIS COMMENT PERSONAL? Could I not find that comment personal? DO YOU WEAR SUNGLASSES? Yes, cheap ones. DO YOU WEAR YOUR SUNGLASSES AT NIGHT? That would make it hard to see. DO YOU SMOKE APPLES, LIKE US? Huh? DO YOU PREFER BLONDES OR BRUNETTES? Whatever. DO YOU LIKE VAMPIRES OR WEREWOLVES? Fanged creatures rock. ARE YOU GAY AND JUST PRETENDING TO BE STRAIGHT BY KISSING LISSA? Uhh... WERE YOU EXPERIMENING WITH YOUR SEXUALITY? Uhh... WOULD YOU TELL US IF YOU WERE GAY? Yes. DO YOU SECRETLY LIKE IT WHEN PEOPLE CALL YOU EMO? No. ARE YOU EMO? Whatever. DO YOU LIKE EGGS? Yes. I had them for breakfast. DO YOU LIKE EATING THINGS? I love eating. I list it as a hobby. DO YOU SECRETLY THINK YOU'RE THE SEXIEST PERSON IN THE WHOLE WORLD? Do you secretly think I'm the sexiest person in the whole world? DO YOU EVER HAVE DIRTY THOUGHTS ABOUT MAX? Eeek! HAS ENGEL EVER READ YOUR MIND WHEN YOU WERE HAVING DIRTY THOUGHT ABOUT MAX AND GONE "OMG" AND YOU WERE LIKE "D:"? hahahahahahahahahahah DO YOU LIKE SPONGEBOB? He's okay, I guess. DO YOU EVER HAVE DIRTY THOUGHT ABOUT SPONGEBOB? Definitely CAN YOU COOK? Iggy cooks. DO YOU LIKE TO COOK? I like to eat. ARE YOU, LIKE, A HOUSEWIFE? How on earth could I be like a housewife? DO YOU SECRETLY HAVE INNER TURMOIL? Isn't it obvious? DO YOU WANT TO BE UNDA DA SEA? I'm unda da stars. DO YOU THINK IT'S NOT TOO LATE, IT'S NEVER TOO LATE? Sure. WHERE DID YOU LEARN TO PLAY POKER? TV. DO YOU HAVE A GOOD POKER FACE? Totally. OF COURSE YOU HAVE A GOOD POKER FACE. DOES IGGY HAVE A GOOD POKER FACE? Yes. CAN HE EVEN PLAY POKER? Iggy beats me sometimes. DO YOU LIKE POKING PEOPLE HARD? Not really. ARE YOU FANGALICIOUS? I could never be as fangalicious as you'd want me to be. Fly on, Fang

Elves, pixies, gnomes- the Moomins, Chorlton and the Wheelies, SpongeBob SquarePants- they all tried to invade you at some point.

[Reverend James] Dobson says that the [Spongebob Squarepants] video would be watched by millions of elementary school students and includes a reference to being 'tolerant of differences.' The nerve! Who does Spongebob think he is? Jesus Christ? Tolerance will not be, uh, tolerated. Oh, and tolerance is quite possibly closesly connected to gay-ance.

In fact, gone are the days of having sex at all. I have resorted to jerking off alone in the bathroom after my wife’s asleep. It’s a sad, lonely existence when you have to take your cell phone into the shitter so you don’t wake your wife when you pull up the YouPorn app and crank one out. The worst part is the SpongeBob SquarePants shower curtain in the bathroom. Do you know how difficult it is to keep an erection while SpongeBob is staring at you with his big, googly eyes and you keep hearing the song "Jellyfishin’, Jellyfishin’, Jellyfishin" in your head?

Knowledge cannot replace friendship. I'd rather be an idiot than lose you.

Mom said it’s too violent for me. I would argue, but after being terrified by a SpongeBob balloon, I’m pretty sure she’s right.

You are normal, even if it was you in that video. Normal human beings do crazy shit sometimes. One time I let this guy dress up as SpongeBob SquarePants while we had sex.

Annabel was just gazing out the window, presumably pondering the inherent mortality and futility of life. Then I realized she was singing the SpongeBob theme song, so probably not.

minoy hoy

You're in trouble. Do you expect me to just walk away?" "I wouldn't hold it against you if you did." "In know you wouldn't. That's only one of the reasons I'm crazy about you. I've got a million more." "Just a million?" "Okay, a million plus one—your cat." She giggled. "You're bonding with Saladin?" "Somebody has to protect that cat from your cousin Ian. And I feed him. The cat. Not Ian. He's on his own. Anyway, if that doesn't get me Perfect Boyfriend status, I don't know what will." "Emptying the litter box?" "Hey. I have my limits." Amy laughed. She had the phone pressed to her ear so tightly it burned. She closed her eyes, picturing his face... Ian's crisp voice broke in. "All right, lovebirds, let's move on. No offense, but I believe Amy and Dan might need a short course in style and class." "Is this the nonoffensive part?" Dan asked. "I can't wait until you really insult us." "Let's deal with reality, shall we? You don't just walk into an auction house in your jeans and backpacks. You have to blend in. And that's going to be hard." Ian sniffed. "Considering that you're Americans." "What are you talking about, dude?" Dan asked. "This is my best SpongeBob T-shirt.

Today was the dance contest, the one where Squidward takes over Spongebob's body...During the competition, Squidward gets a cramp and Spongebob's body ends up writhing on the floor in agony. The audience thinks this is pretty cool and gives him First Prize. Quite a metaphor. The person in the most pain wins. Does that mean I get a Blue Ribbon?

I don’t have time for this I’ve got to go pick a fight with a muscular stranger.

Do you feel it now Mr. Krabbs?

Stop living in the past, Spongebob

I'd rather watch SpongeBob with with Kimmy than talk to you. At least that stupid yellow sponge tries to make sense.

Patrick: I’m mad. SpongeBob: What’s the matter, Patrick? Patrick: I can’t see my forehead.

The boulevard was awash with the curious and the shocked as wave after wave of tourist crashed into the unmoving masses of families who had just witnessed a brawl between The Incredible Hulk and SpongeBob Squarepants over territory, boundaries and the age old issue of ownership.

I have the world's biggest SpongeBob SquarePants underwear collection.

you either die a spongebob or live long enough to become a squidward

What was zat, Miss Penelope?” she asked. “You are on zee phone with Dora zee Explorer and Boots zee Monkey? You say Boots needs new boots? Very well, dah-ling! Pencil him in before my six o’clock appointment with SpongeBob!

When the girl at the squat got her throat slit, and Jacob got marked, Nix had been in Portland a little under a year. He had just bought a SpongeBob sleeping bag from Goodwill and had started to feel something like safe. But then, a roll or two of dust every other week helped with that.

The

DI YI YI YI YI YI YI YI YI YI YI YI YI YI! DI YI YI YI YI YI YI …

SpongeBob SquarePants vs. Squidward Tentacles When SpongeBob SquarePants tried to have kinky sex with Squidward Tentacles, SpongeBob was confused as to whether to suck the octopus's nose or use Squidward's head as a butt-plug. SpongeBob appreciated a challenge and decided to do both at the same time. Now SpongeBob has a lucrative career as a Yoga instructor at Yogis Anonymous in Santa Monica. Gary the Snail runs the Spin class.

Kepada ikan-ikan yang seumur hidupnya digunakan hanya untuk mandi dan membuka mata. Juga kepada ubur-ubur yang diuber-uber spongebob. Ceritakan padaku bagaimana kehidupan di dalam air! Apa yang paling kalian takutkan selain Tuhan dan kekeringan? Takutkah kau terhadap bangsaku, kaumku dan mahluk sejenisku? Kuberitahu kalian satu hal; ada dua keadaan yang membuat manusia tidak perlu kau takuti; pertama saat mereka jatuh cinta, kedua saat mereka patah hati.

his is exactly what I mean about rabbit holes. I love them. I don’t find them a waste of time at all. The Internet works like the subconscious - I’m sure somebody’s said that already, it’s so obvious, I just can’t think who it would have been. The point is, this is how dreamwork works: you wake up and think, “Why the hell did I dream that my 2nd grade teacher was masturbating my dental hygienist?” If you were in analysis, you’d probably be able to figure it out if you really wanted to, just like you could probably eventually figure out why YouTube thinks some SpongeBob SquarePants video is related to Natalya Makarova dancing the dying swan. I do like to understand some of the connections, and for others to remain mysterious. This is how I feel about my subconscious as well. And I never really find it a waste of time. If you think about it, you always find something out. Gray seems to be wasting a lot of time, but in his quiet way, he’s figuring out how to deal with the fact that the people we love die. I really don’t think that’s a waste of time. Also, for the record, I really don’t think looking at art (MJ, Pina, Merce) over and over and over, trying to understand what it’s trying to tell you, is a waste of time. I think it may be the most meaningful thing we do. I tell my graduate students this all the time. Don’t let anybody make you feel bad about this.

We walk the streets of Fuzhou at night, in the one summer when I come back. Streetlights send our elongated shadows tumbling ahead of us, across the neon-tinged storefronts and buzzing lamps. Everyone comes out, the old men in wife-beaters and plastic sandals, the teenagers in fake American Eagle. Senior citizen ladies roll out before bedtime in pajama pants printed with SpongeBob or fake Chanel logos. There is a Mickey D's and a KFC, street dumpling stands, bootleg shops, karaoke bars. Everything is open late, midnight or even later. There are places to get a full-body massage, an eight ball, a happy ending. If you stay on these streets long enough, it's possible you could get everything you want, have ever wanted. Because I disremember everything, because I watch a lot of China travel shows when I am alone at night in New York, because TV mixes with my dreams mixes with my memories, we walk along the concourse that runs alongside the river even though there is no river, we turn down boulevards punctuated by palm-tree clusters even though those belong in Singapore, we smoke cigarettes openly even though it's unseemly for women, especially in my family, to smoke in public. But the feeling, the feeling of being in Fuzhou at night, remains the same.

I sprinkle some flour on the dough and roll it out with the heavy, wooden rolling pin. Once it’s the perfect size and thickness, I flip the rolling pin around and sing into the handle—American Idol style. “Calling Gloriaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa . . .” And then I turn around. “AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Without thinking, I bend my arm and throw the rolling pin like a tomahawk . . . straight at the head of the guy who’s standing just inside the kitchen door. The guy I didn’t hear come in. The guy who catches the hurling rolling pin without flinching—one-handed and cool as a gorgeous cucumber—just an inch from his perfect face. He tilts his head to the left, looking around the rolling pin to meet my eyes with his soulful brown ones. “Nice toss.” Logan St. James. Bodyguard. Totally badass. Sexiest guy I have ever seen—and that includes books, movies and TV, foreign and domestic. He’s the perfect combo of boyishly could-go-to-my-school kind of handsome, mixed with dangerously hot and tantalizingly mysterious. If comic-book Superman, James Dean, Jason Bourne and some guy with the smoothest, most perfectly pitched, British-Scottish-esque, Wessconian-accented voice all melded together into one person, they would make Logan fucking St. James. And I just tried to clock him with a baking tool—while wearing my Rick and Morty pajama short-shorts, a Winnie-the-Pooh T-shirt I’ve had since I was eight and my SpongeBob SquarePants slippers. And no bra. Not that I have a whole lot going on upstairs, but still . . . “Christ on a saltine!” I grasp at my chest like an old woman with a pacemaker. Logan’s brow wrinkles. “Haven’t heard that one before.” Oh fuck—did he see me dancing? Did he see me leap? God, let me die now. I yank on my earbuds’ cord, popping them from my ears. “What the hell, dude?! Make some noise when you walk in—let a girl know she’s not alone. You could’ve given me a heart attack. And I could’ve killed you with my awesome ninja skills.” The corner of his mouth quirks. “No, you couldn’t.” He sets the rolling pin down on the counter. “I knocked on the kitchen door so I wouldn’t frighten you, but you were busy with your . . . performance.” Blood and heat rush to my face. And I want to melt into the floor and then all the way down to the Earth’s core.

For my first home-cooked meal in Tokyo, I took an assortment of beautiful Japanese ingredients and did what came naturally: I made Chinese food. I stir-fried some beautifully marbled kurobuta (Berkshire breed) pork with bok choy, ginger, and leeks, sauced it with soy sauce, mirin, and vinegar, and served it over rice, sprinkled with shichimi tōgarashi seven-spice mixture. This seemed like a reasonable act of Japanese-Chinese fusion. I made some quick-pickled cucumbers on the side. This was before we discovered that anything you do to a Japanese cucumber diminishes it. I should have known this; once I interviewed a Japanese-American farmer who grows more than a hundred Asian vegetables in Washington state. Naturally, I asked him about his personal favorite. Cucumber, he said. "How do you prepare it?" I asked. "Slice and eat." The whole meal was about the same as something I'd make at home, but I cooked it in Japan. It was like the SpongeBob SquarePants episode where SpongeBob has to work the night shift at the Krusty Krab, and he keeps saying things like, "I'm chopping lettuce... at night!" I was slicing cucumbers... in Tokyo!

No one can change a person, but a person can be the reason someone changes

When we last saw SpongeBob SquarePants on the big screen a decade ago, he was thwarting deep-sea disaster with the help of David Hasselhoff. That is, admittedly, a tough act to follow. But "The SpongeBob Movie: Sponge Out of Water" is an even more absurd delight — and not only for its primary fanbase of kids and chemically-altered collegiates.

Then I went back into the house and sat for half an hour, marveling at the chaotic din that ebbed and flowed through the house as the rest of my little family got ready. It was really remarkable how complicated they could make the simplest tasks: Astor couldn’t find old socks that matched and flew into a towering miff when I suggested it didn’t matter whether they matched, since she was just going to get paint on them. Then Cody appeared in a T-shirt with a picture of SpongeBob on it and Astor began to scream that it was hers and he better take it off right now, and they fought about whose shirt it was until Rita hurried in and solved it by taking SpongeBob and giving Cody an Avatar shirt, which he wouldn’t put on because he still liked Avatar and didn’t want to get paint on it. Then Astor appeared in a pair of shorts so small they might have been denim underwear and fought Rita for the right to wear what she wanted to wear for another ten minutes.

In one episode of the gloriously inane yet profound SpongeBob Squarepants, SpongeBob and his starfish friend Patrick watch in horror as they watch others flee from them in a state of fright. They begin to imagine that they are too ugly for the rest of society. At some point, they are able to piece together that they both had consumed onion-peanut sundaes that give them such horrible breath that inevitably chased away anyone around them. Neither one could conclude this for himself; they were both able to sense it for each other.

nine minutes of SpongeBob SquarePants can lead to aggressive behavior after you turn the TV off.

I remember watching SpongeBob and laughing as he and Patrick irritated Squidward. Mom

In spite of Deborah’s reassurance, Rita had known somehow that I was right in the middle of things and in grave danger, and she responded like a true champion. She was waiting for me at the door in a state of ditherhood that was unmatched in my experience. “Oh, Dexter,” she sniffled as she half-drowned me in hugs and kisses. “We were so—It was on the news, and I saw you there, but even after Deborah called,” she said, and kissed me again. “The children were watching TV, and Cody said, ‘It’s Dexter,’ and I looked—It was a newsbreak,” she said, I suppose reassuring me that I had not made a surprise guest appearance on SpongeBob. “Oh, my God,” she went on, pausing to shudder and then hug me, burying her head up to the shoulders in my neck. “You shouldn’t have to do those things,” she said, with a great deal of justice. “You’re supposed to do forensics and—You don’t even have a gun, and it isn’t—How can they—But your sister said, and on TV they said it was the cannibals and they had you, and at least you found that girl, which I know was very important, but oh, my God, cannibals, I can’t even think how—And they had you, and they could have—” And she finally broke off, possibly from oxygen deprivation, and concentrated on snuffling into my shirt for a minute. I

Squidward Tentacles is a Greedy Bitch {Limerick} When I was a kid under age eight, I watched Spongebob with awe and wonder. Now I've become a blundering squid (lying in wait with a takeover bid) to triple my troy weight and plunder.

Plip Plop I want to be in a Sweat Shop

Another day, another juicy, mouth-watering, charbroiled Krabby Patty.

Sean: уоu wеrе сuttіng ореn аll оf mу pinapples уеllіng, "SPONGEBOB!! KNOW YOURE IN THERE!" Me: -_-

Well, then, give me a spatula and call me SpongeBob because I am ready to do some frying!

jellyfish!

I was born with glass bones and paper skin. Every morning I break my legs, and every afternoon I break my arms. At night, I lie awake in agony until my heart attacks put me to sleep.

Every year millions of American men buy televisions in order to watch football. The various companies that produce TVs are aware of this, and try to run advertisements for their contraptions that feature games. Unfortunately, the NFL only sells footage to its official television company. That means if, say, Zenith is the NFL’s TV of choice, Panasonic, Sony, and myriad other entities can’t use league action. “So every year—every single year—I get calls from the companies, wanting to purchase USFL stock footage,” Cohen said. “I averaged about $100,000 a year for a long time. Dom was right.” Don’t blink, or you might miss ubiquitous snippets of USFL game footage. That game Julie Taylor was watching in the student lounge on Friday Night Lights? Blitz-Bandits at Tampa Stadium. The “Bubble Bowl” game in the SpongeBob SquarePants episode “Band Geeks”? Bandits-Showboats at the Liberty Bowl. A Scientology advertisement stars Anthony Carter scoring a touchdown for the Panthers; Russ Feingold, a United States senator running for reelection in 2010, ran a spot with Gamblers receivers Clarence Verdin and Gerald McNeil dancing in the end zone;

Can I be excused for the rest of my life

Let’s take one last peek at the Monte Carlo simulation. We won’t penalize the active portfolio for taxes, as we will give it the benefit of the doubt that no one would be silly enough to do active investing in a taxable account. Let’s just say that the active investor acts with human nature and pays the 1.5 percent penalty. So, now the average dollar invested has a 3.5 percent drag comprised of 2.0 percent expenses and 1.5 percent penalty for chasing performance. Running this in the Monte Carlo simulation against Kevin’s 0.23 percent fees, while he watches SpongeBob, creates the odds listed in Exhibit 5.6.

Burger Beard hacked his way through the thick jungle to the ruins of an ancient temple. At

Once upon a time there was a big fat pink idiot who went to sleep. The end!

Well, it’s no secret that the best thing about a secret is secretly telling someone your secret. —SpongeBob

Be the change you want to see

claws

If I had a dollar for every brain you don’t have, I’d have one dollar!” –  Squidward on SpongeBob SquarePants

Don't ask questions you aren't prepared to handle the answers to.

The scene that was most SpongeBob in hindsight was the one where Jerry’s boss gives him the job of putting out hundreds of folding chairs in a giant auditorium.

The eight tips below can help protect your kids from stereotype threat. All have been shown by research studies to be effective and all are helpful for kids, regardless of the situation. They are good for every kid to hear, even in the absence of stereotype threat, but are especially helpful for a child doing work in a field of stereotype landmines. 1. De-emphasize gender. Encourage your kids to think of themselves in terms other than gender. There are two good ways to do this that reduce stereotype threat vulnerability. One is to encourage your kids to think of themselves as complex, multifaceted individuals. Have them create a self-concept map, where they draw a circle in the center of the page to represent themselves. Then draw as many smaller circles as possible coming off the main circle. In each of the smaller circles, children should write a description of themselves (such as smart, funny, kind, good at soccer, like SpongeBob SquarePants, hate broccoli, fast runner, good at school, ticklish, and so on). They can include anything they can think of that describes themselves without including gender. The goal is to fill up the page with unique and specific qualities that make your child special. Focusing on the many parts of themselves that aren’t linked to stereotypes helps reduce the power of those stereotypes.

Beef went next. Because I used to write for a health magazine, I had heard about Mad Cow disease back when it was known by its scientific nomenclature, bovine spongebob empopalopathy.

I’m SpongeBob, he’s Squidward, and the address is simply Pineapple Under the Sea.

We were way too different. I was fun. He was not. I was happy. He was like Squidward from SpongeBob.

SpongeBob is my hero!

you cut up every pineapple in the fruit shop and yelled “Die Spongebob die

GARY, I NEED COCAINE

In my head I’ve named his computer Karen, after Plankton’s computer wife on SpongeBob.

Stevie: Aye, aye, captain. Greer: I CAN’T HEAR YOU! Stevie: What? Greer: Oh. I thought we were doing a SpongeBob thing. Never mind. Stevie: Ooooooooh. Greer: WHO LIVES IN A PINEAPPLE UNDER THE SEA? Stevie: We’re still not doing it.

Just then Patrick finally came out of his rock. He looked around, but SpongeBob and the bubble were gone. “I knew I was dreaming!” SpongeBob was still chasing the bubble. “Bubble, stop! You have to go back and let my friend Patrick see you!” As he passed Shady Shoals Retirement Home, he accidentally dropped his bubble-blowing wand. But SpongeBob didn’t stop to pick it up. He chased the bubble all the way to Jellyfish Fields. While trying to grab the bubble, SpongeBob accidentally dropped his bottle of bubbles. He kept chasing it until he was miles away from Bikini Bottom. BAM! Suddenly, SpongeBob found himself facedown on

Sure!” replied the crew. SpongeBob came out of the makeup and wardrobe departments feeling quite good about himself. Barry began to explain to SpongeBob what the final stunt was. “Okay, Superstar, this is the most dangerous stunt yet. Only a true daredevil could pull it off.” “Bring it on!” declared SpongeBob. “I’m unstoppable!” “Great! How do you like paddle bikes?” asked Barry. “Love ’em!” SpongeBob exclaimed, though he had never been on one in his life. “You are going to do a stunt that will not only be the most significant stunt for the TV show, but will surely put you in the record books, too!” “All right!” SpongeBob cheered. “Hey, do I get paid extra for that?” “Uh … we’ll talk about that later,” Barry said. “Now get on that paddle bike, Superstar, and let’s make TV history!” Sitting high atop a paddle bike at the edge of Jellyfish

It's amazing how a strip of sticky plastic will make my kids' pain vanish. Lucas will be howling about a stepped-on finger, but as soon as the SpongeBob Band-Aid touches his pinkie, he's all smiles. My sons are so convinced of the magical healing powers of Band-Aids, they think they can solve almost any problem. A couple of years ago, when out Sony TV blew a fuse, Jasper stuck a Band-Aid on the screen hoping to revive it.

remember watching SpongeBob and laughing as he and Patrick irritated Squidward.

Visions of the entire Krusty Krab burning to the ground flashed through SpongeBob’s fevered brain. If SpongeBob

I remember watching SpongeBob and laughing as he and Patrick irritated Squidward.

When it’s my turn, I fill my plate with rice, shami kabob, lentils, and butter chicken, skipping the cauliflower and salad, and pile the naan high before carefully carrying it downstairs to the basement. Rabiya, Yusuf, and the other kids are already camped in front of the TV with their food. Mustafa joins a few minutes later, plopping down on our beat-up leather sofa next to Yusuf. “There’s nothing good on,” Yusuf announces after flipping through all the channels. “Isn’t there a basketball game?” Mustafa asks. “Nooo!” Rabiya whines. “I want SpongeBob,” a little boy named Jamal says, chewing on a piece of naan. “How about we tell scary stories?” Yusuf suggests. “No way,” Rabiya refuses. “Last time I had nightmares for days.” I agree. Yusuf tells the scariest stories ever. The worst one was about severed hands of bodies that were dug up from graves. The hands came to life and would tickle people to death. I still think about that whenever we pass a graveyard.

The two of them, jogging to nowhere like guinea pigs in a play wheel, in front of a screen that seemed to be permanently fixed on the cartoon network. They were working out to Spongebob Squarepants.

Please come again… when I’m not working.

Another day, another migraine.

I hate all of you.

Why must every 11 minutes of my life be filled with misery?

Not that I would mind if through the inheritance of a rich uncle I was finally able to afford health insurance, or go to a dentist who wasn’t a student. Before we left for the will reading, I did what I could to make myself presentable, which was always an uphill battle. My hair was shaggy, about three months overdue for a haircut, and my beard nearly reached my Adam’s apple. I hadn’t gotten new frames for my glasses in six or seven years, so I still wore my painfully hipster thick black rims. And, of course, there was little I could do about the wear in the knees of my pants, the dangling threads on my sweater, and least of all the tattoo of SpongeBob SquarePants on my forearm. A remnant of simpler times. I doubt I would have thought of any of those things had Robby not generously pointed them out one by one. My mind was elsewhere.

To my ear, it mocks God to say, “You’re greater than something that doesn’t exist.” So is my dog. Saying, “Among the beings that we all know don’t exist there is none like Yahweh” is tantamount to comparing Yahweh with Spiderman or Spongebob Squarepants. This reduces praise to a snicker. Why would the Holy Spirit inspire such nonsense?