For a final ironic twist, I’ve left instructions to bury me in activewear.
My body is a temple.
My mind is a comedy club.
My apartment is a landfill.
My car is a fast food restaurant.
I could do this all day.
“Let’s agree to disagree.”
TRANSLATION: You’re so painfully wrong on every conceivable level that I just need you to shut up now.
Wildflowers are just regular flowers that go clubbing until 4 a.m. and snort coke off of each other’s tramp stamps.
Her: I’ve never had a piercing.
Me: Guess we’re not counting your voice?
Why learn big words when you can fabricaciously inventify them?
I think Jesus came up with that whole virgin birth story. No one wants to picture their parents doing it.
Her: Going out with the girls.
Me: Please give my best to the coven.
Her:
Me: Did I say that out loud?
[sloth wedding]
“I”
[six months later]
“do.”
Bisexuals are lucky. To the rest of us, life is a restaurant where you’re allergic to half the items on the menu.
[first date]
Him: So what do you do?
Her: I’m a meteorologist.
Him: Cool. I love meat.
Her: You secretly think you’re smarter than everyone else, don’t you.
Me: Secretly? No.
If I had a time machine I’d probably go back and kill Hitler but I’d definitely stop on the way to object at my wedding.
I’ll see the eclipse when it’s out of theaters and on cable in 3 months.
If two people meet and wind up in the bedroom and discover they’re both doms, do they just fight to the death?