If you want to see the Stress Ball Gatling Gun in action click the link below. It’s only 4000 bucks — a small price to pay for shooting stress balls at your co-workers to get them to “relax.”
WARNING. It automatically plays a file so turns your sound off or have your headphones at a low volume.
Is changing Twitter avatars like changing a haircut? Because I feel like I’ve had a mullet for a while and it’s time for a change. I mean, it keeps my neck warm and softens the blow from ninja sneak attacks, but a mullet doesn’t seem to be a good look long-term. When I first started shoveling jokes into the slobbery maw of the Twitter machine, I wanted to be free to say whatever I wanted without my employers and other sensitive folk getting their panties in a twist, ripping their girdles, yanking their knickers or whatever else the kids say these days. Sure, they have my name, but it’s common enough to sow seeds of doubt in case someone thought it might be me. Now, I really don’t care and past employers have learned the sunbeams-through-the-gloomy-clouds wonder of my jokes about wiping Cheetos dust on my tighty-whities and skinning cats on public buses and really didn’t care either.
So now I’m bored of being a monkey and in the needs of a change. So anyone else who’s changed their pic lately have any recommendations? Does it matter at all? I was worried slightly that it would adversely affect people starring my tweets and all that bullshit (that I still desperately cling to), but I seem to barely be getting anything on the 80s comedy club that is Favstar anyway. So does it matter and am I over-thinking the magnificent weirdness that is Twitter?
I just realized that last night, while completely sober, I posted unrelated jokes about cats on Twitter, Tumblr, and Facebook. On a Friday night, my entertainment priority was not partying well past the devil’s side of midnight, but telling feline-themed jokes on multiple social media sites.
If I had posted a humorous video of me giving a kitten a bath on YouTube, my transformation from a 30-something man to my Aunt Gladys would have been complete. Tonight, stay tuned for more cat humor and tears… so many tears.
I promised myself nine years ago that until Bin Laden was caught I would not be funny. I bet you guys were wondering “What’s with this guy? Another joke about forgetting to wear pants?” Well, the truth is I was trying to be painfully unfunny to protest our inability to bring the world’s most wanted terrorist to justice. I bet you feel pretty bad about yourselves now for jumping to conclusions. Yes, the guy who brags about how well he rolls 20-sided dice is much deeper than you ever imagined.
So you’re thinking “Great. Trying to read your writing was more difficult than reading a Captcha while riding a roller coaster with rabid badgers and goofed on horse tranquilizers. So why aren’t you funny now that he’s caught?” The truth is I have a new thing to protest - I’m not going to be funny until we eliminate our shameful subsidies to profiteering oil and gas companies. So expect more bullshit jokes and grotesque, meandering metaphors that even a deranged street prophet wouldn’t make. Sorry, everyone.
Look, I'm trying to just let the writing speak for itself. If you knew the truth about me -- that I'm a billionaire secret agent who speaks 10 languages and volunteers in soup kitchens when not bedding the world's most beautiful women -- then that might influence how you perceive my writing. So no dice.
PEEP SHOW
I really don’t think any totally confident sexually satisfied human being ever called anyone else...
Wow! No kids, and he’s never used contraception!
I amazed he got married 4 times because he...
My asshole is always talking shit behind my pussy’s back.
(I’m so classy.)
I scammed an extra hour out of visting hours by being really quiet...
