Why did I adopt kids? I dunno. Let me look at my family: religious weirdo, gun nut, biker, boozer, dead tooth, too many cats, the guy who talks to his truck. Hmm. Maybe I adopted because genetically my balls are full of poison.
No one has ever thought this: Now that I’m out of therapy and have fixed my mental problems, I think I want to be a ventriloquist.
If you encounter someone who pronounces the t in often, odds are they’re a douchebag.
I’m no longer afraid of not making enough mistakes.
One great way to mess with devout Christians and atheists would be if Jesus came back and said, By the way, you know I’m fake, right?
Christ was born in a manger, laying down amongst donkeys ang goats. He was given gifts of incense and perfume. No kidding.
Very few positive experiences begin with being told to count back slowly from ten.
If I had a dreamcatcher when I was thirteen, it would have spent many long days in the dryer.
I’m the Forrest Gump of comedy.
New synonyms for sex: Going to a family function, getting the hard part over with, anti-fillet. Get it? Sex!
I’m only afraid of dying if I’m to be held accountable for what I did while living. If there’s no God or reckoning, I’m like, whew!
Had an audition for a pilot today, but realized I could save gas and help the environment by pissing up a rope here at home!
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