When I found out Santa wasn’t real I got so mad at my parents I stormed out of the house, got in my car and just drove and drove and drove.
Last night I slept for 8 hours straight, and then for 2 hours gay.
Text your dad “egg salad sandwich” four times in one day. He’ll probably think his phone is broken.
I wanna see some BUTTS on da dance floor! ONLY butts. Detached from their owners, just kinda in a pile. In the middle. Nice. Good butt pile.
My brother’s so homophobic that if he dropped his keys in San Francisco he’d kick them to Oakland before bending over to pick them up.
That tweet is awesome. You guys are awesome. Twitter is awesome. I’ve made awesome friends on Twitter. A thesaurus would be awesome.
I found a message in a bottle. It said:
“The girl at the end of the bar is a lot hotter than she was 2 hours ago.”
I hate being bipolar it’s awesome
My first instinct when I see an animal is to say “hello”. My first instinct when I see a person is to avoid eye contact & hope it goes away.
Yesterday my boss asked why I was tardy and I said, “I don’t think you’re supposed call people that any more.”
Instead of presents, give your kids “presence.” Then explain how homonyms can be hilarious. Then leave forever.
“Knock knock.”
“Who’s there?”
“Santa.”
“Santa who?”
“Santa who has to use the door because you left your fireplace burning, jackass.”
Why do Mexicans eat tamales on Christmas?
Because they’re delicious, you racist asshole.
If Justin Beiber and Rebecca Black were both drowning and you could only save one, would you grab a bite to eat or finish mowing the lawn?
Not only are all my tweets stolen, but so are all my thoughts. And everything I say. And my identity. And this baby.