@dvsjr's most faved Tweets...
When you cut off a car, you suck.
When you cut off a Lexus SUV with a "no Obama socialism" bumper sticker, you're doing Gods work.
When you cut off a Lexus SUV with a "no Obama socialism" bumper sticker, you're doing Gods work.
Trying to see how far I can take this not doing laundry thing. Pretty sure today I'm wearing a tie, running shorts and flippers to work.
Welcome to "Satan" my newest follower and my dark lord and master! May his reign... Wait. That's "Santa". Um.
Awkward.
Awkward.
You know, everyone in our twitter circle are funny, witty, sarcastic, attractive, brainy and hot to the Nth.
And all seriously undersexed.
And all seriously undersexed.
I wake with my arms around you wrapped tight in blankets. Sunlight fills my room.
Then I see that you are my pillow.
Same time tonight?
Then I see that you are my pillow.
Same time tonight?
Everything I've ever said to you still stands. I am as unwavering as the something that doesn't, you know, waver.
Missed connections:
You were jaywalking, Hampshire and Windsor.
I gunned it and beeped.
You gave me the bird.
I felt something.
Call me?
You were jaywalking, Hampshire and Windsor.
I gunned it and beeped.
You gave me the bird.
I felt something.
Call me?
Her: So can anyone read your tweets in twitter?
Me: Sure.
Her: So whats your twitter name?
Me: uh, @sween
Me: NO WAIT @joeschmitt!
Me: whew.
Me: Sure.
Her: So whats your twitter name?
Me: uh, @sween
Me: NO WAIT @joeschmitt!
Me: whew.
My neighbor and his wife can't seem to make each other understand how the other feels, no matter how much they shout or throw shit.
Because I no longer kill spiders the one sitting on top of my shower nozzle for the past three days watching me gets a wink when I leave.
Twitter allows me to interact with a much funnier, cooler class of people than I could in real life.
Unless they find out I'm a dweeb.
Unless they find out I'm a dweeb.
One day ima weld steel on the front of this beloved Honda of mine and show you motherfuckers commuting mad max style.
Waiting on the delivery of a craigslist washer machine. I caught myself muttering how men are unreliable and never keep in touch.
Call me?
Call me?
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