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No, I don't think it was "too trendy" to name my daughter Maple Bourbon Simpson.
An apple a day keeps the doctor away. Nail it to your front door to protect your entire household.
I'm standing somewhere in a playground in Chinatown, in case anyone wants to play Real Life Where's Waldo.
I get why it turns you on to watch videos of trains going into tunnels. But watching trains come out of tunnels? You monster.
"Chunnel" sounds like something you don't want to find in your hot dog.
How much longer do we have to wait until we tell the Baby Boomers we're going to kill them all.
Camper Van Beethoven's "All Her Favorite Fruit" is the marching song of the Wistful Dad Army.
The bumper sticker says "COEXIST." It also says "My pubic hair is an impenetrable thatch of tangled, wire-like strands."
Just typed "we need to execute strategically" and I wasn't talking about killing someone. So feel free to execute strategically me.
What better way to acknowledge human fallibility than to permanently write—on your skin—about the shit you happen to be into right now.
Neither in the heart of Africa nor the hospitals of London—the next supervirus is being born in a Chuck E. Cheese ball pit in Milbrae, CA.
You know you're sick when you no longer enjoy the smell of your own farts.
"Probably gonna stop by Me and pick up some terrible clothes." —Tommy Bahama
"Poor guy blew out his elbow and had to get Me surgery." —Tommy John
"It's not that my dick is reserved; it's that my penis has reservations." —@pbones http://instagr.am/p/lBrmX/
Tom Brady just raised the rent on the studio apartment inside his chin divot.
I always thought "Saturday night special" meant Courvoisier and Biore strips.
RT @simX: @scottsimpson — How about statues with chapstick lips that you make out with?
(I'm picturing a 2 ft. log of ChapStick, that any citizen could walk up and rub their face against.)
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