Tag: the martian

“Day 192. I am still trapped on Mars by myself.”

You are not on Mars. You are on Earth in a room with terrible furniture.

“I have made oxygen, using science; I have made hydrogen, using handsomeness; I have made potato salad, using potatoes.”

You don’t know how to do any of those things.

“The Uber I ordered has not arrived.”

You have Wifi?

“Roaming.”

I’d say.

“Day 41: I am still stuck in my jean jacket with no hope of rescue.”

You can take it off at any time, Bobby.

“I am alone–”

Family’s waiting in the car, Bob.

“–and have nothing to eat except the potato salad I have grown.”

It actually looks like you’re standing directly outside a restaurant.

“Tell my wife, Natasha Monster, that I love her.”

Absolutely not.

“Then I’ll get her the message using science.”

Seriously: no more movies.

“Hello out there. I don’t know if anyone’s watching this, but this is Bobert W. Weir with the Grateful Dead. I’m not dead. Surprise.”

Bobby?

“The van for the venue left without me, and I’m stuck in the hotel room.”

This is not really a problem, Bob.

“I’ve only got three ounces of pot, four grams of cocaine, eight guitars, and an undisclosed number of stone-cold teen foxes. I’m gonna have to rock star the shit out of this.”

Just call the front desk.

“I have begun to grow potatoes.”

In the hotel room?

“Yup. I have colonized my hotel room.”

You’re not allowed to watch movies anymore.