Why Is It ...

… that no one believes that I have no skeletons in my closet I do have a tiny box of souls in my underwear drawer.

… that nothing pisses me off more than pulling up to my job and finding the building still standing.

… that just because I like to walk around in my underwear, eating Doritos, does not make me strange and the people in Aisle Four need to get a life.

… that I often feel the need to tell people they should go to church because I don’t want them in Hell with me

… that more people don’t ask for my opinion. I mean, like the other day I said to a coworker, ‘Relax, you aren’t the dumbest person in the world but you better hope he doesn’t die.’

… that I often tell songs to “Shut up” before I skip them.

… that once I’m in bed and I turn over on my stomach and make that 4-shape with my legs it’s a wrap

.… that my idea of help is a sniper on the roof.

… that if I died and went straight to Hell it would probably take weeks to realize I wasn’t at work anymore.

… that every time I try to donate blood I always get the same stupid questions: Who’s blood is it? Where did you get it? Why is it in a bucket?