I keep a survival log when I’m forced to fast before bloodwork…so yes I can be a little dramatic when hungry.
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I can tell exactly how much someone weighs by how much noise they make when I push them down the stairs.
Absolutely no one:
Me: *something goes down the wrong way and I start coughing*
Everyone: Let me tell you about the time I almost choked to death!
Daughter: You’re invading my personal space
Mom: You came out of my personal space
Try that* in a small town.
*not joining a pyramid scheme run by an ex cheerleader.
“Missed you.”
– a lover“Missed you.”
– a sniperContext is important.
Alcohol is a perfect solvent: It dissolves marriages, families and careers.
My new year’s resolution is 1920 × 1080.
A kilogram is my favorite unit of measurement that sounds like a service you hire to murder someone at their front door.
“I keep waking up at 2:04 every night”
— my 7YO describing what I can only assume is the beginning of our family’s real-life horror story.
ME: I can’t believe he ruined my life.
THERAPIST: Who?
ME: *points at myself* This idiot.
Mornin
Sure I named my black cat Blackie and my grey cat Grey, but you need to be a little less obvious with babies. Isn’t that right, Mistake?
people are saying The Quiet Place is a scary movie but as a husband and father of four it sounds magical
You know what they say about poison ivy – leaves of three, run screaming away and spend the rest of summer inside binge watching Netflix because Netflix never gives you rashes.
me: technically, they’re magma lamps until you crack them open and pour the lamp sauce out, then it becomes lava
doctor: no I meant thoughts about your treatment plan
My son walked in from kindergarten and set his backpack down with a sigh. “Tough day today,” he said. “A lot of stress.” “What happened?” I asked. “We started the letter J today,” he replied. “It’s giving me lots of trouble.”
My 5 year plan is to get an amp for my bass. That fish sure does love his energy drinks
mobster substitute teacher: so you see, the rats sleep with the fishes
kids: *nervously flipping through their zoology books*
We are at the stage with our 3 year old where every night features a greased pig contest where he gets naked and then tears around the house singing, “Run, Run, as fast as you can. You can’t catch me I’m the gingerbread man.”
Zooey Deschanel always looks like she’s been shown a card trick
Grey Goose and Red Bull, because two sets of wings is better than one.
I never realized just how much of parenting is surreptitiously throwing away artwork.
*shitting pants, crying, missing my shoe*
yoga instructor: you need to leave
me: oh is this not child’s pose?
step 6: release the wall snake
It’s reached a point where my local Krispy Kreme sends first responders to my house if I go more than two days without buying donuts.
*Tosses a strand of lights over the pile on the laundry chair*
The tree is up.
“All dogs love me. He’s friendly! Look how he’s smiling, showing me his teeth.”
“Hey Buddy, let me just grab your collar to read your ta”
And those were his last words
deeply unfair of people to assume I have my life together just because I’m boring
(filming reality TV show)
him: we’re out here looking for Bigfoot
me: so a guy with just one foot?
him: no, an ape-type creature
me: gotcha. a big hairy guy. with one foot
him: he has 2 feet
me: why isn’t he called BigFeet then?
him: get out
I want to be financially secure enough to pass up a dime lying in a parking lot. Like “I’ll leave that for someone who needs it”