Everybody fancies themselves as some sort of wizard that can conjure up laughter by a few strokes of a keyboard, but only a few tweeters are truly worthy enough to have all of their witticisms transmitted to you, the ever busy comedy fan trying to navigate through an increasingly congested internet. Every Friday we'll make your life a little bit easier by introducing you to an individual that you might not know about who consistently makes us laugh and momentarily forget that other days of the week exist.
(If you're reading this from an RSS feed, jump on over to the website where you can actually view the tweets for an optimal level of enjoyment.)
@Lanyardtwerk once admitted on her twitter profile to being a habitual line-stepper. I don't know if that is necessarily true, but she is definitely an upbeat, shining light in an otherwise dark and depressing world.
A cool thing: no matter where your brain may soar in dreams, you always wake up and find yourself chained to this meatbag of a pre-corpse.
With a future at CBS programming.
"That girl was poisoned." –CSI: Bell Biv Devoe
Grow concerned if Lanyardtwerk brings home coffee.
Shh. We've secretly replaced Dave's Folgers crystals with a note from his wife that she wants him to move out.
She has at least one child.
Fetaljuice, Fetaljuice, Fetaljuice! (water breaks)
She wants nothing but to let him or her escape the pain that is childhood.
I wish I could press a finger to this loud, profane, obnoxious boy's forehead and instantly transmit to him the sadness of being an adult.
Her maps believe that it is every map for itself.
I don't know if I trust this map from Ayn Rand McNally: it only shows America. Also the oceans are just poor people's corpses.
Miss Twerk has a peculiar way of dealing with loss.
Is it disrespectful to wake 'n' bake? Like, what if you barely knew the person who died?
Motion to rename funerals "hot grief injections."
She wishes Hitler were different.
I wish Hitler had ruined the soul patch instead.
Lanyard is into meta men.
I like my men like I like my "I like my men like I like my coffee" jokes: unoriginal, yet self-referential.
She just might save Jason Mraz from complete irrelevancy.
"I'm Jason Mraz and this is my partner Taz. Were you injured by the birth control Yaz? Call Mraz & Taz, attorneys at law, 1-800-MRAZ-YAZ."
Ugly people make her hungry.
Butter face? Pizza face? Why do ugly people sound so delicious?
It is actually weird that Marriott has never used a variation of the following tweet as their slogan.
Pssh, if you like hotels so much, why don't you Marriott?
Twerk is a stone cold killer.
Oh. This is hand *Satanizer.* Well, is my face red with the blood of innocents.
A typo is so demoralizing that I usually just snuff out the tweet's little life rather than rewrite it. Shh, you're with the angels now.
But nobody's perfect.
"Just all right?" –Jesus, aiming a rocket launcher at the remaining members of The Doobie Brothers
Lanyard needs to shop at a different grocery store.
Caught my food taking a picture of me. When I confronted it, it said it was for its people blog? What a creep.
She makes corpulence fun!
Jiggling fat is a little more fun when you imagine a dubstep noise coming out of it.
Lanyard is burdened by her ambivalent relationships.
Motion to change frenemy to "palbatross."
Because nobody says what they really mean.
I like how "I like how" now means "I hate that."
She doesn't want to talk about it.
Took an Irish shower (stood in the shower feeling angry; didn't talk to anybody about it)
And will act out instead.
Brooklyn Decker sounds like an upper decker so gnarly that your toilet becomes sentient and yells "FUHGEDDABOUDIT!"