Things I Said: Further Raided Tweets

Sadly, boys and girls, I’ve been working overtime. Six days last week. All 9+ hour days this week, plus physio, massage, and dentist appointments. Before the weekend. And don’t get me started about that.

So, I’m stretched thin. Obviously. The blog thus suffers.

Tonight’s posting, therefore, is the doesn’t-require-brainpower option of copying some of my Favrd/Favrotted Twitter comments of late for your chuckling pleasure.

Could be worse. I could just be boring the shit out of you with “Oh, woe is overtime. All that money, so little time” crap, but I have decency.

Besides, recycling is good for everybody. Without ado, then, a selection from the last week or so.


  • Ever wonder what kind of social pariah you’d be treated like if you worked as a salesperson on the Home Shopping Network?

As an effort to reduce the control commercialism has over me, I practice individuality by eating my red Smarties first.

  • Tragically, kids, we’ve reached the saddest part of the morning: Steff needs to put on clothes. You may collectively sigh now.

I’ve played Jenga drunk way too often. Walking past unfinished skyscrapers unnerves me.

  • “Granola” types aren’t so bubbly/happy because of their diets, they’re so happy because they poop well each morning. Good poop=good morning.

My coffee table: Where dirty dishes go to die.

  • The good part about being born into upwardly-mobile white trash is that I have relatives who can hurt and maim people.

The first time Rocky & Adrian kiss is one of favourite “kiss” scenes. Any kiss that begins against the wall & ends on the floor works for me.

  • Note to Foley editors: Car tires do NOT squeal in mud. Really. Or on gravel. Or in dirt. EVER. Please remedy your stupid SFX. That is all.

“Sorry, kids. Recession. Santa’s taking a sabbatical. No tree for you. We need the firewood anyhow. You gonna eat that?”

  • gasp… i have a surface to my writing desk. my god. is that what colour it is? geez. who knew? organization-schmorganization…

Am taking old “fat” clothes to donate to charity today. Using “urban elevator”: Dropping bags three floors down off balcony. Fuck stairs.

  • Who’s with me? I’m launching a class-action lawsuit against manufacturers & stupid-ass new skin-severing fortified plastic wrapping on shit.

Behold: New bubble-ass-sculpting jeans. Damn, they’re comfortable AND under $40. I’m reviewing my athiest beliefs. Under 40? Gotta be a god!

  • I gotta say, if you’re going to drop your blush brush in the toilet, it’s best to do it once you’ve already applied everything. Just sayin’.

In my new world order, construction will only be allowed in hot summer months so men can be bare-chested at all times.

  • Anyone know a hot command to make the stupidity stop?

Also on the big-ass list of New World Order Rules: No more fucking nuking fish in workplace microwaves. What’s WONG with you people? [Ed note: You notice the typo? Isn’t that fucking perfect? Jesus. Nice miss, Steff. I thought I’d be honest and preserve the, um, irony and leave it unfixed. I’ll be over there, scraping my editorial pride off the floor, thanks.]

  • HEY, ASSHAT. Your car alarm is STILL going. Not stolen yet? For shame. Here, let me help.

Way to go, asshat. You’ve had your car (and its fucking annoying alarm) for how long and you still don’t know how to unlock it right? FAIL.

  • Gee, I’ve never had to walk under someone hoisting a piano. I wonder how they keep them so suppor–

I always wonder, with advertisers who run the same ad back-to-back, how they figure that annoying me twice, back-to-back, will win me over.

  • Some of the best therapy money can’t buy: Deliberately falling asleep on your couch.

Fuck. Now I want muffins. A curse on all your houses!

  • Some couples baffle me. How did THEY get together? It’s like, say, mixing yogurt with vodka. You could, but why?

What’s with scented feminine pads? Mixing a floral scent with that of fish is going to improve it? “Mountain meadow trout” maybe? jesus.

  • @Astrogirl426 Tell him you’re introducing a “stages of forgiveness” plan, and he’s at the “I will NOT slam the door on your hand” stage.

@Astrogirl426 But tell him “A blowjob and a steak are looking like March?”

  • @Astrogirl426 :) Bribing with oral sex is almost a gimme, but ya throw a barbecued steak in the mix, and resistance is futile.

@Astrogirl426 Well, that’s why the steak has to come later. Must deprive them, then satisfy, then feed. It’s an art, really.

  • That’s the great part of living alone — when you wake up a cunt, no one has to take the brunt of your wrath.
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