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I have to pee. Someone pause the internet.
I care so little about your give a fuck/don't give a fuck tweets that I don't even read them. Not that you give a fuck, right?
99% of the time I'm just amusing myself.
Someone's tweet just reminded me where I hid candy from myself over a month ago. I love twitter. Thank you.
It's all fun and games until someone eats your face off.
If someone doesn't confiscate the Nair soon I will be completely bald.
It hurts to swallow. Admitting that publicly will never make me popular.
"Right THAT'S IT! I'm going to go focus on work now"
- me, at least once every five minutes on twitter.
Someone should make a "see you in three days max" e-card for twitterciders.
I got my nipple caught in a closing umbrella if any of you felt like questioning evolution.
I wonder how many tweetups end up just like the Crying Game.
I think I'd rather be frisked naked by several TSA employees simultaneously than read another TSA joke.
I don't care who you vote for as long as you don't tweet about it. Just kidding, vote democrat or I'll cut a bitch.
You know when you want to scream at someone but you can't and you have to sit there quietly and politely like nothing is wrong. Yeah that.
shhh don't tell anyone but I don't have a Plan A.
So tired and dirty you'd think I'd been having fun.
The thing I love most about the rapture is that religious freaks have already revised the date to October in case Saturday disappoints.
I'm like Cinderella after midnight only I burst into tears and if I could find my shoe I'd fucking throw it at you.
The garlic in my lunch means I never have to worry about vampires as long as I live. Or men.
You may actually get to know me better here. May. May not.