@wood's (Wood) most faved Tweets...
I like my coffee like I like my women: with absolute certainty that no one's penis has been in them.
At least I have a job. At least I have a job. At least I have a job. At least I have a job. At least I have a job. At least I have a job.
There are two classes of Scrabble player: people who are not as smart as I and poopyfaced cheaters.
In Kingman AZ "clean restroom" apparently means "does not contain a dead prostitute."
Wife tells me: "a good husband would take my car out and fill it up."

I've been working on my good wife list the whole way home.
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My neighbor's musical lawn Santa self-immolated overnight. That's like the fourth one now. Weird, huh?
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Well, this bladder isn't going to empty itself.

Oh, wait... Hey, whaddya know?
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$0.99 margaritas, you say? Tell you what, here's a $50. Whatever's left once I'm on the floor is yours.
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Downloaded a follower tracking app. It's called "Everyone hates you and you'll die alone, you miserable little man.app," or something.
I'm starting to suspect that a lot of homophobia stems from an overestimation of one's attractiveness to the same sex.
So THAT'S what 8 hrs of sleep feels like! It really was rather nice. Next I think I'll try this sex thing you all keep going on about.
It's NOT a bathrobe! It's a smoking jacket.

Yeah, okay, it's a bathrobe. At least I have my brandy snifter.

Fine, it's a 40. Whatever.
Daughter let slip that one of her school friends is a stripper now but won't say who or where. This could be awkward someday. And expensive.
Boss is in Scotland, co-workers are in CA. I'm all alone in the warehouse. You know what this means, right? OMG I'M DRIVING THE FORKLIFT!!!
If I were to "dumb it down" for you any more than this, I'd be mooing at you.
Dude, checking Facebook AGAIN? You are such a loser.

Hang on while I tweet that. What?
Does anyone actually read the public timeline? Because honestly it's like trying to have a conversation with a tinfoil hatted hobo.
I am just filled with love and warmth for all of humanity! Lap it up now bitches, I'll be sober in an hour or two.
I know the sign says "closed" but if you're not going to let me in that men's room you'd best direct me to your least favorite plant. Now.
Sometimes, deep in the night, a man finds himself haunted by the memory of what he did for that Klondike bar.
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