I propose we add a new day to the week and that we call it "Someday" - just think of all the good shit that would happen on it.

Old folks do everything slowly... right after they dart in line ahead of me.

I'm suppressing my knee-jerk reaction until I'm in the same room with the jerk.

It was long. It was hard. I was not on top.

How was your day?

My front lawn looks like it was depeche mowed.

Life would be so much easier if I was an amateurcrastinator.

I don't like public bathrooms. I hope that's condensation I'm sitting in.

There's an endless silence as you're flying over your handlebars. You wish it would never end. Trust me on that.

If you pause and think about it, the word "innuendo" is naughty in and of itself.

She puts the "I'm not having any" in "fun."

Hoarders is a good show. Think I'll order every single episode of it on DVD.

To relax, I like to lay back in the tub, close my eyes and pretend the gentle lapping is the ocean and not the cat drinking my bathwater.

Cat barf on the dining room table is low, even for you, Monday.

In order to cut back on my twitter time I'm considering going back to peeing standing up.

I won't pretend to even remotely understand the aerodynamics that enable me to smell my own toots while bicycling.

When I'm old and my son has to change my diapers I hope he gets pink eye too.

I've lost over 25 pounds. My dream of being an underwear model has never been closer.

I'd say the cheese has slipped off Jimmy Carter's cracker but I'm afraid to use the word cracker.

Can't get motivated. Only lessivated.

This Happened Yesterday
A tweet play by Quintsee

Wife: What are you doing?
Me: (on toilet) Jesus fucking Christ, really?

Fin.