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I like my coffee like I like my women: with absolute certainty that no one's penis has been in them.
At least I have a job. At least I have a job. At least I have a job. At least I have a job. At least I have a job. At least I have a job.
There are two classes of Scrabble player: people who are not as smart as I and poopyfaced cheaters.
I'm starting to suspect that a lot of homophobia stems from an overestimation of one's attractiveness to the same sex.
Wife tells me: "a good husband would take my car out and fill it up."
I've been working on my good wife list the whole way home.
In Kingman AZ "clean restroom" apparently means "does not contain a dead prostitute."
Well, this bladder isn't going to empty itself.
Oh, wait... Hey, whaddya know?
$0.99 margaritas, you say? Tell you what, here's a $50. Whatever's left once I'm on the floor is yours.
If I were to "dumb it down" for you any more than this, I'd be mooing at you.
My neighbor's musical lawn Santa self-immolated overnight. That's like the fourth one now. Weird, huh?
I admit I'm a little taken aback by men who brag about "wrecking that pussy." You do understand that, with care, those are reusable?
So THAT'S what 8 hrs of sleep feels like! It really was rather nice. Next I think I'll try this sex thing you all keep going on about.
Daughter let slip that one of her school friends is a stripper now but won't say who or where. This could be awkward someday. And expensive.
Downloaded a follower tracking app. It's called "Everyone hates you and you'll die alone, you miserable little man.app," or something.
It's NOT a bathrobe! It's a smoking jacket.
Yeah, okay, it's a bathrobe. At least I have my brandy snifter.
Fine, it's a 40. Whatever.
Dude, checking Facebook AGAIN? You are such a loser.
Hang on while I tweet that. What?
Boss is in Scotland, co-workers are in CA. I'm all alone in the warehouse. You know what this means, right? OMG I'M DRIVING THE FORKLIFT!!!
Sometimes, deep in the night, a man finds himself haunted by the memory of what he did for that Klondike bar.
Does anyone actually read the public timeline? Because honestly it's like trying to have a conversation with a tinfoil hatted hobo.
God hates fags? Well, ok. Santa hates Jews. Imaginary people are just dicks, I guess.