your monkey called

Here’s another batch of Twitter almosts that have been kicking around my Birdhouse for a long time. It feels good to purge and start fresh every now and then, but I didn’t just want to delete these proto-toots: 

Sissy slaps. At dawn. Battle to the ouch.

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Just tried to donate blood but the guy turned me down. He was like, “This is a Hallmark Store.” 

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Don’t let your mouth write a novelty-sized check that your novelty-sized ass can’t cash. 

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Started trimming my pubes, didn’t know where to stop and long story short now my neighbor has a mohawk. 

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It’s Ode to Joy, not Ode to Troy! 

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What do people use calipers for (besides determining if your roommate is secretly a Jew)?

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“I find the term ‘beach ball’ so limiting. Why can’t you just call me a ball?”

—Asshole beach ball 

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My favorite app is the Febreze app which is a bottle of Febreze. 

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My son is like Macguyver: using just the repeatedly screamed word “chipotle,” he was able to fashion a deep hatred inside me. 

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At a school assembly I show extra support for my son by booing the other kids. To establish contrast. 

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Y Tu Mamá Tambourine 

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“The human body is 90% water. I was thirsty.”

—Unsuccessful cannibalism defense