I’m two bad puns and one malfunctioning condom away from being Fun Dad.
Today I turn 23. Two days ago, I used the word “square” in a nongeometrical sense. It’s obviously all downhill from here.
My 11-year boycott of the Oscars for snubbing...
[[MORE]]You know what? I’m tired of all these “rappers” talking about their feelings and shit over some autotuned, reject techno joint. What ever happend to dudes talking about fighting a motherfucker? All the cocaine they’re smuggling? Gunrunning? You know, the type of stuff a 22-year-old whose lived in the suburbs his entire life can identify with.
Friend: You pray a LOT. You ever prayed for booty?
Me: Nah, but I pray after.
Chicago Bro1: I've seen Dave Matthews 22 times.
Chicago Bro2: I've only seen him 18.
Me: I think it's time I take my black ass home.
Figuring out what happened after you blacked out is like trying to solve 1930’s whodunnit, but instead of the dim-witted butler with a grudge, the culprit is poor decision making.
This just in:
Donald Glover = Don Glover = Dong Lover. And it’s this type of hard hitting journalism the reason why three news blogs follow me.
Me: First time going on a date, huh?
Little Cousin: Yeah.
Little Cousin: ...
Me: There's nothing to it. You drive her around. Take her places. Buy her food. Then maybe, maaaybe, at the end of it she'll give you a goodnight kiss.
Little Cousin: Maybe?!
Me: I don't make the rules!
Me: Look. I tell you what, if you get more than a kiss on the first date, call me up, because obviously you have things to teach me.
I flirt at a 6th grade level.
Friend: *turns on garbage disposal*
Me: Is this dubstep?
Runandblogthat. Also known as a buster.
I used to love TLC’s “No Scrubs”. I stopped about 5 minutes ago, when I realized they were giving detailed instructions for women to stay away from guys like me.
where while you were putting your phone in your pocket, you accidentally called the girl you’ve been sending flirty texts to all morning, (who you just met last night at a bar), freak the fuck out, and hang up before she gets a chance to answer. Then thirty seconds later, when she calls you back, scream, and hurl the phone as hard as you can across the room. And then when you faintly hear...
You can’t really dust for vomit.– This Is Spinal Tap
I never knew how apathetic I was until I joined Twitter. Apparently there’s a lot of things I don’t give a fuck about.
124634464-deactivated20120627 asked: I feel like if I knew you in real life I would cry on a daily basis from laughing too hard
likeafieldmouse asked: Your wit is distracting my sleep aids. Stop it and let them do their job.
Anytime I see that me or my credit has been “pre-approved” for anything, the 2008 financial collapse makes a lot more sense.
Call it a six sense. Call it graduating junior high school. But I can always tell when a blog is going to have shitty music blasting when I click on it.