Mmmm. Snuggle blanket.
I spend way too much time talking to the fish at my job.
The key to eating Total is warm milk and letting it sit for a while.
Losing at Killer Instinct to the six year old.
On my way to church. Again.
God save me … I might have to go to a Tweet Up now.
I just had to yell “Quit being so obnoxious with your love” to my son.
Do not make direct eye contact with me until you reach puberty.
I’m clipping my fingernails. And every other toe nail.
I’ve really got to call my mother.
Why am I on Shocklines?
I’m craving BW-3 teriyaki wings.
It’s naked daddy time. It’s naked daddy time! Where ya at?
Point, shoot, dribble, tuck to the left.
My laptop’s battery is overheating my crotch.
I’m twittering my life rather than living one.
Why, Lord, am I in the Taco Bell drive thru? Hast Thou forsaken me?
Crap! I have 57 hours and 9 minutes available on my DVR.
I obviously need more bran in my diet.
And now … a Hypnotiq break.
Something vague which causes all of my Twitter buddies to text me with concern.
Knowing my every movement is relational masturbation.
My, that’s a lot of lint in my belly button.
This has been an hour that I can’t get back.
“Twitter’s minutiae is the logical extension of blogging, social networking and texting. Soon everyone will know what everyone else is doing right this minute, whether it’s tying one’s shoe or eating an orange or being a little sleepy after class. Everyone will know, and no one will care.” –Nick Kaufmann
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