The Art of Wetting the Bed During a One Night Stand

i don't like to wax poetics on a full stomach.

i've always been afraid to settle into someone elses dream.

subway musicians fascinate me. who are they? are they failed musicians, hidden geniuses, egotistical maniacs, or just plain crazy?

some people only sing in the shower. these people sing on the streets.

that girl has an ass the size of a mid-to-large sized baby.

i never trust it when people say they are excited to see me. i always check to make sure they know who they are talking to.

i hear drums.

i sometimes worry my head is too big.

i'm like a bored lion. or giraffe.

although giraffes always look bored. maybe like a gazelle? i mean, sure you can run and look all graceful and shit, but other than that, what do you really have?

i don't believe in umbrellas, i mean sure, they exist, but to what end?

i wish I could diet and loose a shoe size.

i hate when people chew gum like a mother fucking cow. close your damn mouth. i don't need to see your spittle flying all over the damn place.

is it better to know where you stand, or to let the mystery move you along?

it is hard to be positive when you have been robbed.

there has to be a better way.

i enjoy the challenge of deciding what to eat for lunch. i am overjoyed at the one decision i get to make in a day.

i have decided to not do anything about it.

what's the difference between isolated and scattered thunder showers? in the end, aren't they kind of the same concept?

i'm sick of anorexics.

try as i might, i do not enjoy the feeling of almost dying.

sometimes people say the stupidest shit.

i want a dream lover...cuz i don't wanna dream on the phone.

the quality of my day relies completely on whether or not i get a seat on the train on my way to work.

you cannot be completely arbitrary.

if you don't know what i mean, look it up.

i have a bun in the oven. no, literally. i'm toasting some whole wheat buns for my hamburgers.

i feel betrayed by my credit card. it knows what it did.

my alarm clock wins too much. i might put it in a room with a rooster and see who comes out on top.

when life pisses you off, stop answering the phones. or when you do answer them, use a fake british accent.

give the spice rack back and tell him to fuck off.

in an effort to save money, something has to go. i'll miss you, food.

hello, vodka, dear friend.

mother nature is clearly a bipolar.

hypocrites always point their finger first.

am i even making sense this morning?

i think it's fair to say, having your head near some one's ass is never a good thing.

lesson learned.