My doctor told me to start killing people.
Well not in those exact words. He said I need to reduce the stress in my life.

Same thing.

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The problem was that everyone was poking my ex on Facebook.

And in my bed
And on my couch
And in my car
And when I was at work


Felt like my car was going to blow over from this wind today. I feel bad for the smart cars that are probably stuck in trees.


*closes door*

“Did you take out the trash?”

“Her name is LINDA, Mom.”


How to fix something:
-Say “let’s have a look”
-Describe the brokenness
-Break it a bit more
-Say “nah it’s broken”
-Place hands on hips


Are you going to Scarborough Fair?
No mate, sounds shit.


*I sit bolt upright in bed, drenched in sweat*

HER: Did you have the zombie nightmare again?

ME: (thinking about the time everybody sang ‘happy birthday’ to me and I accidentally joined in) Yes


I’m 30 but I still feel like I’m 20
Until I hang out with 20 year olds
Then I’m like no, never mind, I’m 30


[mob about to stone a sinner]
JESUS: Stop! Let he who is without sin throw the first stone.
[mob drops rocks]
JESUS: [picks up rock]


Got a new bottle of shampoo and now I’m using what’s left in the old one with the reckless abandon of someone who just won the lottery.