Local Fatty Sucks At Losing Weight

When you have nothing good to say, don’t say anything at all. That’s why I wear an eye patch over my mouth. Also, I’m retarded.

Lately I’ve been putting whipped cream in-between two waffles and eating it for a snack. Or as I like to call it, “yaaay!!!”

Pajama pants are strikingly similar to karate pants. Its no wonder monks meditate all the time. Being a monk is a life of napping.

Some things are sad like “that puppy just died” and other things are sad like “the baby who fell in a well is being safely reunited with her parents”. But most things are sad like “I just dropped my hot pocket on the floor but I’m going to eat it anyway.”

You know you have self-esteem issues when you need beer goggles to masturbate.

If I was a conjoined twin I think I’d make the twin eat junk food so I could enjoy the taste without getting fat. Unfortunately, I’d still have to drag his fat ass around with me everywhere but chicks who are into conjoined twins would totally do me instead.

All the money in the world can’t buy happiness. But it can buy a huge lollipop. And one of those bouncy castles you jump in when you’re little. Oh, and a helicopter…made of cheese!

The clown people need to stop bothering me while I’m watering my lawn. Every day they pile out of a tiny car, unicycle onto my lawn and start juggling in my face. What the hell, clown people? If they come back tomorrow I’m punching them square in their squishy red noses.