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I wish we could throwback thursday to when people weren't annoying as fuck.
I'd lose so much weight if I only bought food in jars I couldn't get open.
Nothing makes me want a man in my life more than standing alone in my kitchen, holding yet another jar I can't get open.
I just muttered "fuck my life," which is pretty adorable, mainly because I don't even have a life.
I'm giving up sex until something better than not getting laid comes along.
Washed down two Tylenol with a glass of champagne because water is for peasants and being sober gives me a headache.
It's all fun and games until you become an adult.
Telling an owl to shut the fuck up is the closest thing to a relationship I've had this year.
With the number of times I ask myself what the fuck happened to my life, you'd think I'd have come up with an answer by now.
If I ever reach out and say something nice to you, know it comes from my heart. My cold, dark and empty heart... but my heart nonetheless.
I spend a lot of time thinking about being a better person.
And I think we all know it's the thought that counts.
Pretty sure Saturday is Latin for 'be a lazy fuck.'
I wish birds were a little less chirpy and a little more shutty uppy.
I've been in the "it's gonna get worse before it gets better" stage of life for like, the last four fucking years.
Apparently, good moods are a lot like relationships because I haven't been in either in years.
Take a bunch of drugs and hope for the best.
My tweets are pointless and stupid. It's okay though, so is my life.
Sorry I can't relate to your tweets about having feelings, friends or a life.
Swearing on Twitter is my anti-drug. Come for the cuteness, stay for the rage. I say FUCK! a lot.