On Twitter, people respect you for sharing your deepest, darkest flaws. Unless those flaws are typos, in which case, die in a fire.
America. Where assault weapons will protect your family, but two dudes getting married will destroy your family.
“I just died in your arms” sounds much more romantic than “You’re holding a dead body.”
Get a tattoo with Chinese symbols that reads, “I don’t know. I don’t speak Chinese.” Wait for people to ask what your tattoo means.
When a friend dies, I’m not sure if I should unfriend them on Facebook or occasionally “poke” them to see if they’re still dead.
“I liked small butts. I was lying.” – Sir Mix-A-Lot’s teary deathbed confession
I’m less upset with Lance Armstrong lying about taking performance-enchancing drugs than I am at Oprah for lying about retiring.
Princess Peach has been kidnapped so often, I’m beginning to think she might be Liam Neeson’s daughter.
The fact that Mitt Romney opted to see Twilight instead of Lincoln this weekend probably sums up what his presidency would’ve been like.
Remember, kids: If a 200-year old vampire fucks a teenager, it’s “romantic,” but if a 45-year old Muppet fucks a teenager, it’s “creepy.”