My Pants Are Like Fed Ex – Full Of Package
Some tan lines can be awesome. Like, the old man I saw with distinct sock lines the other day. That guy can party.
Some tan lines can be awesome. Like, the old man I saw with distinct sock lines the other day. That guy can party.
People who work in paperclip factories must hate bending things at home.
A good name for a cat is Ricky Retardo. A good name for a retarded person is Whiskers.
Dear Kevin, A snickers bar and an energy drink is not breakfast. To further illustrate my point, here’s some diarrhea. Sincerely, your body.
Amazon.com knows me too well. Recently, they suggested three items based on my recent purchases – a heavy metal album, a bandana and Golden Girls Season Five. I’m not sure which to buy first! Answer: Golden Girls.
The shower is like a womb with rain where you cover yourself in perfume to distract people in the outside world from your constant pooping.
If I had a peanut butter gun, I’d shoot people for a while but then I’d probably just make sandwiches. Eventually, I’d get sick of cleaning and refilling my peanut butter gun and return to the knife and jar method. I miss my peanut butter gun.
There’s a fine line between things that are close together. There’s a thick line between peas and my mouth.
Somebody once told me that snakes are, “just as scared of you as you are of them.” Yeah, I don’t think so. I doubt any snakes are having reoccurring nightmares of being eaten by millions of me.
I hate when some random dude punches you in the face even though you are minding your own business – in the bowling alley bathroom – hiding in a stall – standing on a broken toilet – videotaping the urinal – recording his pee.
Monkey-dolphins are man’s best friend – whether they’re swimming in your bathtub, swinging from your chandelier or simply enjoying a sea banana. I’ve often dreamt of having another pet monkey-dolphin but it just wouldn’t be the same. Rest in peace, Mr. Flipper Bubbles.
It’s impossible to reference churning butter without it becoming sexual. Unless you actually churn butter for a living– then you probably hate to stroke weiners after work. Or maybe you’re the dong-tug master? I’m really confused.