Pivo @Pivo@social.cleverlibre.org

Your Black Friday reminder that the economy is at least 50% more concentrated now than it was in 2005. Shop small if you can. Please.

pretty sure the fire pigeons aren’t gonna care about your silly little sign

waffle irons are bullshit. if they really worked you could put in a waffle and get out a pancake.

Apparently you can be asked to leave the courtroom if you fall off your chair too many times

*narrows eyes*

You wouldn't write it like that unless you poisoned the firgs

"Where is your god now?" I like to shout at children with paper cuts.

ME, 10: I want a big mansion

ME, 20: I want a cool apartment

ME, 30: I want a small hut that stands on chicken legs & has been hidden away deep in the forest

Trump INNOCENTLY invited someone to dinner who recently pledged to go “death con 3” on the Jews and was shocked that he brought along another anti-Semite. Could happen to anyone.

*my eyes open wide, a glass slips from my hand and shatters on the floor*

What if Jolene was Death?

waiter: how is everything

me: good but we’re out of updog

waiter: have you tried the moray

me: what’s a moray

waiter: when the moon hits your eye like this

Black Friday is cool and all, but have you tried grocery shopping the day before Thanksgiving?

Accused of going "goblin mode" simply because I gathered a horde and destroyed the king's precious stronghold.

My friends refuse to tell me their darkest fear. They say I'll write them down in some sort of "terror lexicon" Which of course I would but it hurts for them to think I would pen such a tome

Life is short. Write that novel. Paint that painting. Try new recipes. Learn black magic. Go into the forest at night. Summon a demon. Earn that demon's trust. Become best friends with it. Brag to everyone else about your new cool demon best friend. Knit that sweater.

you must squeeze only the highest quality brains to harvest smart water

I hate that I have the urge to explain my weight gain to everyone I run into that I haven't seen for a while when I don't feel the urge to explain other recent changes, like the blood red irises, the sigal branded into my forehead, and the overwhelming aura of rotting meat that follows in my wake.

Am I the only one that hears my kids giggling every time I toot on here?

Me: Do you need me to do anything?

My surgeon: How are you still awake?

My own horn