The Art of Evil Easter Bunnies

i hate to disappoint you but i think you should know, i am honestly not a funny person...as the next four hours will demonstrate...

i never know where to put my arms when i am standing.

herpes - the gift that keeps on giving.

surprisingly, getting louder does not make you more right.

english people know that anything they say in their accent sounds romantic. even that man who told me to move the fuck out of his way, and called me a fucking cunt. to me, he is Colin Firth and ladies, i just might be in love.

if your hair looks like you stuck your finger in an electric socket you will not be allowed to judge me.

i don't know how i feel about yoga. i am a bit competitive with it. i made it my mission not to fall. i was like, fuck you side plank, i'm gunna kick your fucking ass. hell yeah yoga!

ohmygod, i'm totally gunna be that 50 year old woman with tight shirts, boobs all hanging out and still showin my g-string...

i do not wish to wait any longer for godot.

i am not a still person. i do not have a still mind. i cannot stand still. i cannot walk without twiddling my thumbs. i cannot think of relaxing. the wii fit has trouble registering my weight because i fidget. if i have an hour at the gym, i need to be running until i am on the bring of vomiting, just to keep running interesting. lying on the floor for 5 fucking hours (ok to be fair, probably only 5 minutes) is not a good workout. i need to rethink yoga.

i can drink you under the table.

apparently most fine dining establishments do not like it when you drink under their tables.

also, in related news, i still like to "borrow" things when i am under the influence. like toilet paper...or hair...

stab your meat.

i am so hungry i am contemplating eating a finger...like a ring finger...or pinkie finger. i mean it's not like it has any use.

this is ridiculous.

girl scouts are the devil. girl scouts are bitches. fuck them and their cookies.

the problem with plastic seats is that they vibrate when you fart.

you are not america's next top model. although the girl who wins won't be either.

what IS it with people and their bodily functions right next to me? first the farting man, now the burping old lady, and i'm pretty sure she had tacos today.

alright iowa! i bet that is the first time anybody has ever said that about iowa!

if you sit behind a horse, don't be surprised if you get shit on. that was not a metaphor.

i cannot wait for you to crash and burn. but not from an airplane, or a car, or walking really fast into a sonic...i was being ironic. and, i admit, a bit bitchy.

i am the boss.

for once in your life, please ignore your call waiting.

fucking yoga. i should have taken the boxing class that was right after yoga so i could punch the yoga teacher in the face.

i might have missed the point of yoga.

what's with people having their own catch phrase? if you ain't in a tv show, knock that shit out.

wall. wall-e. wonder wall. walnut. nut job.

that's not my name.

i only cry when it hurts. it only hurts when i trip and bang my head into a wall.

you have no idea what happens to a woman when she gets a brazilian wax. no idea. (but now you're thinking about it)

those truth commercials make me want to take up smoking, especially the one with all the crying crawling wind-up babies that are all crying, so i can stab them with my cigarettes. burn plastic motherfuckers!

too much?

dreaming of pill and pain and vodka.

are you close?

it's disheartening to be the shortest person in a room.

what does it smell like under a yamika?

i ate a tag-a-long (aka peanut butter patty) and i think, though i'm not completely sure, that while eating that tasty treat, jesus did a dance in my mouth.

while i cannot successfully stare at something and think of nothing for 5 minutes, i can however, successfully stare at something and think about how much I hate it, for a good hour.

i'm sorry, i wasn't listening to you, i was too busy staring at your yellow tooth.

Shots before Shots. the new name of my shooting range slash bar. i'll let you guess which one you partake in first.

can we make yoga into a contact sport?

i drank my weight in vodka. there might have been hot dogs with no buns. and inappropriate jokes. and a toilet paper baby. what does it all mean? Let's Go Mets!

naked friday!

heh-heh...naked people.