“My motto is live every day as if I were about to kill you.” -Kim Jong Un
I know where I want to be buried when I die. Under newspapers in my apartment.
My work computer should be labeled, “job search engine.”
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“I hate the internet.” “Then why don’t you marry it?”
I’ve been getting acupuncture treatments for my fear of needles.
In this week’s issue of Progressive Lifestyle Magazine: a bicycle powered soup delivery business and other things for you to daydream about as you die in your cubicle.
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Everest is an ironic name for the world’s longest hiking trail.
Hipsters hated the term before everyone else started to.
Twitter is really putting this “Thousand Monkeys on Typewriters” theory to the test.
I often want a machine gun for the most superficial reasons.
I’ve become so proficient with time saving techniques I now do nothing.
You go girl. Yeah, you heard me. Get the fuck out.
I want to open a Bar called Plato’s Cave in which everyone is strapped down to chairs and forced to watch shadow puppets on the wall. It’d be super authentic.
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
“Hey want to come to my high school play except I’m calling it a band?”
God burns our prayers to fuel the flames of hell.
Oh shit I fucked my pants.
If carbon monoxide is the silent killer how come I always have to hear about that dead family two houses over?
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
I practice clock warfare which is killing your enemies via the passage of time. It’s a slow, torturous death.