If you can't be kind, at least have the decency to be vague.

My mom just asked me to show her how to get on twitter. The first thing she's learning is what it means to be blocked.

Mom: NO! STOP HUMPING THAT PILLOW!
Me: I would never do that while I'm on the phone with you.
Mom: I was talking to the dog.
Me: Oh.

I just did something so stupid it qualified me to be a republican presidential candidate.

This salad would be better if it were a cheeseburger and fries.

Do you ever get the feeling you're being followed?

The hottest thing a man can do is compliment my intelligence and mean it.

"I'm quitting Twitter."
"I'm back on Twitter. Follow me!"

- some of you crazy motherfuckers, apparently

For all you know I'm a middle-aged, 300 pound man tweeting from my basement.


Fine. It's my parents' basement.

I'm better at gardening than cooking. That's why I grow pot instead of making meth.

Thanks twitter for randomly unfollowing some of my favorite people and starring shit that I'd never star otherwise. You fucking complete me.

92 people were murdered in Norway yesterday and I've seen more on twitter about how sad it is that one drug addict died. #fail

It's nice to know that no matter my age, I can still make tragically bad decisions.

Apparently you are never too old for your mother to call for the sole purpose of nagging you.

When I have more than $20 in my account at the end of the month I have to wonder what bill I forgot to pay.

You know you're doing life right when your dogs knock you on your ass so they can kiss you to death because they love you most of all.

I drive my car the same way I fuck: with fervor and intensity, taking the occasional unexpected turn, but always in control.

I'm just not adult enough to deal with someone with the last name "Arreola".

When I'm missing a period at the end of my tweet because I've used my 140 characters I always worry that I might be pregnant.

I just burned my dinner. I wouldn't have done that if I were still a Virgo.