HEARD ON THE STREET

Facebooking on Ambien is the drunk dialing of the 21st century.

So there you are doin’ what you do, which is takin’ up my time.

I’m getting another call that’s probably more important than yours.

Your chi got me hard.

I can’t help it. I just like squeezing things out of sacs.

No more prescription meds for you—especially not anyone else’s prescription meds.

Treat ’em like motorcycles: Ride ’em hard, put ’em away wet.

I just got hug-raped.

I think I peaked last year.

Napoleon Dynamite was pretty accurate.

Have fun brushing your teeth.

I OD’d on this crappy day.

That’s like telling Hitler to make up with the Jews.

I’d fuck your mittens.

Smells like incense and Pledge.

I would have a complete anxiety attack without a working TV.

Yeah, he said he’s got anal bugs—literally.

I always feel enlightened after a bowel movement.

He’s got maternal instinct, but his mams only come out at night.

I treat myself enough already—mostly with substances.

(Courtesy of TimeOut Chicago.)