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Thoughts From My Bathtub Pt. 2

It's another one of those lonely nights. After three bottles of wine and a few Xanax and no turnout to my dramatic bible reading of Genesis I invited people to on Facebook; I decided to jot down a few thoughts. Read them and laugh. Don't worry, you're already going to hell for coming to this website.

You can only go to a bar alone and say you're waiting for friends for so long until everyone figures out your an alcoholic.

Whoever invented the constellations had to be high. Orion's belt? All I see are a shit ton of dots and an excuse to get a girl to have sex outside on a blanket.

Opening the door for a woman has two perks: they think you're a gentleman and you get to check out their ass as they pass by. WIN!

People say I'm a shut-in for not leaving the house much, look at the Easter Bunny, he only visits once a year. Judge him. Try.

I had all these criminal charges for touching children but couldn't afford an attorney. So I joined the priesthood.

Fuck you High School Aptitude test, maybe I want to work in public transportation. Ever seen Cash Cab? What now, bitch?

I always assumed my mom hung antique plates on the wall for the slim chance the house tipped over while we had company over.

I had the 12 pack of crayons growing up. What can I say? We were middle class.

I don't want to sign up for organ donation. I don't want to get someones hopes up about getting a new liver only for them to find they got mine.

What do you call four unconscious girls with an average heart rate of 35 in my bedroom on a Sunday morning? My first fivesome.

What happens to a maternity ward during an earthquake?

Insulting your girlfriend than claiming it’s opposite day only works in grade school.

McDonald’s: I don’t want to see your employee’s smile. I’ll pay extra to not see that toothless, plaque infested grin from your underpaid and uncleanly body.

Whenever I’m already drunk and I manage to get another bottle of wine open, I feel like Arthur pulling that fucking sword out of the stone.

Bumper stickers are like the tramp stamps of the automobile world.

I brought a fat black kid home after seeing The Blind Side. I’ve been feeding him and letting him sit on the couch but he still sucks at football so I’m just going to return him.

I swear I wasn’t sadistic as a child. I just wanted to get a better view of the ants with my magnifying glass.

Apparently the sperm bank doesn’t allow pre-filled gallon jugs. There goes that business plan.

Fuck you optimists. There are times I want my glass to be half full. Like at the final cult meeting when they hand out the Kool-Aid.

Does the tooth fairy come to crack addicts and old people?

And with that, I leave you. Time to go back to my bottle of wine, sock puppets and circle of scented candles.

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