Aunty Depressant

I want to know peace, but instead I know emails.

Prosthetic arms fair

There are too many Pokémon.

A child ran towards me and my life flashed before my eyes.

I hope no one notices that I’m wearing blue underpants with black pants. That would be embarrassing.

Sports fans should keep their lifestyle choices behind closed doors

One probably wouldn’t get away with naming a child Gay these days.

The emails never cease, but neither will I.

Sometimes when I’m craving attention, I’ll go to a fancy clothing store to be followed closely by staff.

I have sent 1 (one) email and now I need to lie down.

I want 100 Gecs to play at my funeral.

I go to metal gigs for the same reason I go to drag shows, because I like the cute outfits.

It’s probably for the best that I’m not an acquaintance of David Schwimmer. I don’t think I’d be able to stop myself from asking him questions like “Do you have any hobbies? Are you a Schwimmer?”.

I’d rather die than catch Uber Pool.

Every now and then I wonder what Michael Jackson is up to.

Tripped over someone in the train and my life flashed before my eyes. Send tweet.

A thought not shared with strangers on the internet is a thought wasted.

What I’m looking forward to most about being elderly, is being in the way more.

Drivers should watch where they’re going because I sure as shit am not.

People have no business being 7ft tall. Come down from there.

I would be unstoppable with an earwax vacuum.

Every day there is a new email. I reply, and I receive another email. The cycle never ends.

I dream of a world that is free of shitty meathead men

It’s interesting seeing guys from Grindr out in the real world. Like “Hmmm, he looks to have taken up meth since his profile photo was taken”

Having a holiday to recover from sending an email should become a more regular thing.

I think my biggest fault might be that I get too much enjoyment from arguing with strangers on the internet.

Before babies start crying, they should first ask themselves “Would Lucas appreciate this?”.

I saw a Physio the other day. One of the things he said not to do was to sit with one leg over the other. He might as well have told me to stop being gay.

It’s a shame I don’t work with doulas. Otherwise I’d start my days with something like “Another day, another doula”

My guilty pleasure is telling old people they don’t have much time left so they shouldn’t spend it being hateful.