Favstar gets even better if you sign in.
Don’t change your avi, people. Some of you I only know as “the one with the tiara” and “the one with the green lips”
If you drive a Kia, do parking spots ask you “is it in yet?”
Beware of girls with PMS and GPS. You can run, but you can’t hide...
I Googled Miley Cyrus haircut. My computer shut down, packed its shit and left.
Twitter needs us little guys as much as it needs the twitter elite. Else, who would star and RT your shit and send you annoying @ replies?
Anyone else here wonder what we used to think about before we started obsessively thinking of what to tweet next?
Chin up. If Charlie Sheen can get through 2011 you can get through today.
Emo goth chick ahead of me has maxi pads and a box of Trojan. Some unlucky Justin Bieber wannabe is getting period sex tonight.
Twitter needs an anti-star. Perhaps the icon could be a little Brussels sprout.
Ask me again if those jeans make your ass look fat, but this time, pat it and say it like: “Do you want to fuck this?” Answer is still yes.
At least little kids don’t make the loser sign on their foreheads when I walk past anymore so, there’s that.
Crazy how some people take financial advice from fortune tellers. Helloooo. They live in caravans.
Some of you should go check on your kids real quick, probably.
Apparently “pics or it didn't happen” is an inappropriate response to a birth announcement.
If I’ve ever offended anyone on here, my apologies. I have matured much and learned a valuable life lesson from your block and unfollow.
I wish I could say there were bits of undigested unicorn in my poop this morning, but nope. Just regular corn.
Really busy morning at the office trying to substantiate the hypothesis that the less you work, the less work you attract.
I can do format tweets because, free country
"I'll have the turkey on rye. Fuckin' turkey on rye. Turkey on rye. Fuckin' turkey on rye." - Skrillex ordering at Subway
Retweeting is kind of like inviting your followers to join in and make it a starfucking orgy.
You know what you did. Jar. Put the cash in the...*frantically waves hand towards Jar*... Ok. Look. You tweet something douchy, you get fined. Capisce?