@switchbladephd's (Switchblade, PhD) most faved Tweets...
GF hates when I come home late, covered in body glitter and smelling like strip club. But the money's great and I look hot in these pumps.
Those glares tell me people know what I just did in my car. Screw you, it was one Huey Lewis song and I didn't even know all the words.
I kept asking the waitress at the Chinese restaurant if I could put my meat in her dumpling, but she didn't appreciate my wonton advances.
Putting crack rock and booze in the live traps hasn't yielded any woodchucks. But I have caught three drifters and Amy Winehouse.
Drinks at 6? Oh, I can't because I, ah... um... wish you were dead? Sorry. I'm not too good at this whole "brush-off" thing.
In addition to Casual Friday, I propose the following: Punch A Coworker Mon., No Pants Tues., Drunk At Work Wed., and Call In Sick Thurs.
The trick to surviving a night of shameful, irresponsible behavior is to wake up too hung over to feel regret.
I hate when people assume I'm stupid. So what if they're right? They should still have to find out the hard way.
The dog farted, then got up and left the room. Now GF thinks **I** did it. Well played, dog. Well played.
I once dated a girl who said I should treat her like a princess. Bitch didn't even appreciate the pee under her mattress.
Has anyone invented a toilet that plays a belch sound after you flush it? If not, I think I've just found my ticket out of this dump.
Why is it that most people will readily admit to being horrible drivers, but never admit to grossly overestimating their own importance?
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