It's The Hardest Thing To Come Up

I Never Had The Desire To Be A Professional Twitterer. Every Now And Then Something Dumb Pops Into My Head And I'll Tweet It. I Don't Feel Any Obligation To Respond To Everyone. Not That I Don't Appreciate People Sending Me Messages On There, But There Are Too Many. Responding To Everyone Would Take Away Time For All The Stuff I'm Actually In The Business For.

I Like Going Out And I Like Being Single, But A Growing Part Of Me Would Rather Just Stay Home, Cook Food With Someone I Really Like, And Do Nothing.

For The Majority Of The Time, I May As Well Have Been Just A Really Tan White Kid. You Know, I May As Well Have Just Been, Like, A Fat Kid.

The Problem Is There's A New Group. I'm Talking About This Tiny Slice Of People That Have Gotten Way Too Fired Up About The Trump Thing For The Wrong Reasons. I'm Talking About These People That As Soon As Trump Won, They're Like, We Don't Have To Pretend Like We're Not Racist Anymore. We Don't Have To Pretend Anymore. We Can Be Racist Again. Whoa, Whoa, Whoa, No, No. If You're One Of These People, Please Go Back To Pretending.

Zerts' Are What I Call Desserts. 'trée-trées' Are Entrées. I Call Sandwiches 'sammies,' 'sandoozles,' Or 'adam Sandlers.' Air Conditioners Are 'cool Blasterz' With A 'z' - I Don't Know Where That Came From. I Call Cakes 'big Ol' Cookies.' I Call Noodles 'long-ass Rice.' Fried Chicken Is 'fry-fry Chicky-chick.' Chicken Parm Is 'chicky-chicky-parm-parm.' Chicken Cacciatore? 'chicky-cacc.' I Call Eggs 'pre-birds,' Or 'future Birds.' Root Beer Is 'super Water.' Tortillas Are 'bean Blankets.' And I Call Forks 'food Rakes.'