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All of my wife’s friends are tedious. Their spouses are also awful. One of her friends used to be cool, found Jesus, and now is terrible. I allegedly pissed in her fireplace one time when I was drunk, and instead of seeing the humor in it, she brings it up constantly as a teachable moment in her ongoing quest to make me give up my sinful ways.

Her and her husband came by the other day with their kids, and as usual, the conversation was painful. At some point they started asking questions like if there was one person, alive or dead, you could have over for dinner, who would it be? I had pretty much drunk myself into my happy place when I had an epiphany. That question is awesome, and as I explained to adult and kid alike, I know exactly who I would have over. Tracy Morgan.

For one, I’ve always wanted to try PCP, but I don’t know where to get it. I have a hunch Tracy Morgan doesn’t have that problem. It’s also been far too long since I woke up somewhere and had no earthly idea how in the hell I got there. Once again, I have a feeling that Tracy Morgan’s life is eerily similar to the movie Memento, but he doesn’t have the Polaroid’s or tattoos to help keep his shit straight.

The best part is that Tracy Morgan seems genuinely insane, and that always ups the fun factor. And if things go horribly wrong and someone gets hurt, he’s also black, so I can just pin everything on him. Truly the perfect dinner guest.