50 Cent is probably a huge advocate for change.

Do my back boobs qualify to become a waitress at Hooters?

My self esteem is down the drain. Literally...I just washed my make-up off.

I'm not that ugly when you're drunk.

My work on Twitter is not something my mom would display on the fridge.

Ever wonder how mermaids masturbate?

If you say 'penis' backwards, that's the sound of your dick getting circumcised.

Apparently it isn't civilized to scratch my vagina in public if it itches. What's the big deal? Not like I'm scratching your genitals.

I'm wearing my tourist shirt today so that everyone I run into will know I've been to New York.

Aw fuck, I just stepped on a snail.

I'm sorry lil fella, I guess you're escar-gone now...too soon?

I swore to myself I would be productive today. So, I'm going to start my day by writing a love letter for food.

To do my part for the environment, I've stopped using toilet paper. Maybe now, the hippies will want to date me.

I don't know why there are three kinds of juice in my fridge, but they all go great with vodka so I'll shut up about it.

By the power invested in me, I will spit in your food if you're going to be a douche when you order.

My perfect man will let me accesorize his facial hair with sparkles and dollar store novelties.

Permission to put my vagina IN you?

I just creeped my own Facebook profile and pretended I was a hot guy and thought, 'Daaaaamn, I would SO tap that!'

The entire gay population of North Carolina should move to Canada so they can help me pick clothes. Oh, and also so they can make love.

I can always count on Twitter to not ask how my day was. Perfect.

I feel like one of my ovaries just blew up. Fucking terrorist.