After hours of trying to remove this lemon from my ass, I'm left wondering why life didn't just hand it to me.

I've simultaneously achieved a new low in the culinary arts, and a new high in hiding my alcoholism. Jack Daniel's and maple syrup.

Every time someone blesses me after I sneeze, one thing runs through my mind: You're not qualified.

I'd live tweet sex, if I could type faster.

I'd like to apologize in advance for Tweeting words people have already used.

Down on your luck? Antidepressants not working? Life kicking your ass? Welcome to Twitter.

There comes a time in every man's life, when he has to say "fuck this". Tonight, I hope she agrees.

The more I think about the lack of thought I put into thinking makes me wonder what was I thinking.

Let's all pool together and give Canada their NickleBack.

Trying to come up with a decent valentines poem. So far; farted, dutch oven, and broken hearted, is all I got.

Grass is dead, dirt is brown, I'm drinking Malt liquor, alone with a frown.

"The road to hell is paved with good intentions." I'm hoping the road to heaven is paved with empty vodka bottles.

If a tree fell in the woods and knocked over my beer, I'd be pissed whether I heard it or not.

I seem to have busted my move.

If you can't say anything nice. Go with ambiguous aversion.

Embrace the day as if you have a new soul to torture.

The thin line between love and hate vibrates in the frequency of our sense of humor.

Nice guys let her finish first, twice.

I'm already deleting my drunk Tweets, and it's not even tomorrow.

I've finished my latest invention; a automated clothes ironing machine. I'm calling it "The Ironic", primarily because it dosen't work.