@UncleDynamite's (Uncle Dynamite) most faved Tweets...
Text like everyone on the bus hates you, dance like you drunkenly lost a prosthetic & love like you're court-ordered not to.
If the bottle says "stool softener" I always hide the furniture. I don't want any more of that Salvador Dali shit happening around here.
I need to stop following people at a pace faster than people follow me or else I'll be perceived as the spy I don't want people to know I am
Jessica Biel's eyes look at me from the magazine. She's telling me something. Can't make it out. "Kill Jack Lemon!" That bitch is crazy!
Idiots are crazy for any message from the Jonas Bros, and star them in the thousands. What's the point? They make the air gay. It burns.
Is it possible that laptop makers intentionally made heat transfer to the lap so intensely that it would make nerds sterile? Think about it.
Jessica Biel phoned me last night. Yeah! Well, she phoned the police, to be exact. But it's really the same thing, since it was *about* me.
Anyone else in the mens room at LAX spreading Nutella on toilet paper and kicking it to the adjoining stall? We should totally join forces!
A man was arrested today for being naked in his home. What next! Will some innocent man be arrested for being pantsless at work? Come on!
The doctor called with the news re: my blood test. A recessive Christopher Robin gene is to blame for me saying "tut tut" when downplaying.
A great Twitter list name I'm on is "won't-follow-back" - it's genius. And, no, sorry: I still don't negotiate with terrorists.
If Google wanted to do something useful, they'd invent a wintertime car that runs on mucous and a summer one that runs on ruined vacatiions.
So upset the science museum doesn't sell naked lady shot glasses in its gift shop. Science is nothing but lies.
Everyone who recommended me today humbled me because I think they're far funnier than me. These aren't tears, they're Axe Body Spray mist.
Sometimes I worry trashpickers at the landfill will cut their feet on my expired credit cards. Then I put an olive in my martini and forget.
I put it to you, ladies of the jury. That's all: I *put it* to you. Do you feel it? Am I inside you? Did you come? NO, YOU'RE OUT OF ORDER!
Lindsay Lohan had her lips done and the job offers are finally rolling in again. Sadly, they're mainly to do with window squeegeeing.
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