I’m going to hell if anybody needs anything.
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I believe I can flyyy.
I believe I can touch the skyyy.
I believe I was mistaaaken.
I believe I’m faaalling.
I believe I’m gonna diiiie.
Talk to the hand. The hand is lonely and needs some company. What are you up to? How’s work? You look great. You want some tea?
Hey “greatest generation” why is every thrift store filled with ceramic clowns
So I listened to some LL Cool J then kept licking my lips like he does. I found myself in HR. Good thing I wasn’t listening to KISS.
Me: How old is your daughter?
Her: She’ll be 4 next week.
Me: *audible sigh
(Slowly, emphatically): OK. But I asked how old is she… NOW.
[aliens observing earth]
“Horse racing is the shit we gotta start doing that”
LMAO.
Parenting is letting the kids fight it out over who showers first while you sneak away to take your own shower without interruption.
Results are in: a lot of people took the “never change” yearbook inscription way too seriously.
[God creating armadillos]
Shove that mouse into a seashell
If you haven’t heard about shorts yet
At what point should you worry about your drinking?
I bet it’s before your kid builds a Lego brewery.
Nothing is impossible…except for my daughter returning home with the hat and gloves she wore to school this morning.
I sure talk a lot of shit for someone who got a stress fracture opening a can of butter beans
I’m not alone. I have ants.
I’m the guy in the meeting giving coworkers the throat slash motion when the boss says “Anybody have anything else 2 add before we adjourn?”
had to make it
Me: I’ll just put off this update that forces my phone to restart.
Me, driving and using Google maps: Oh no.
My boys from the living room:
“I’m telling mom!”
Me from the bedroom:
“don’t come tell mom shit!”
Executioner: any last words
Me: [very fast] if I’m innocent say what
Executioner: what?
Me: oh man you’re sooooo going to get fired.
No thanks, Downward dog.
I’m already busy with Downward spiral.
I like to be called a MILF because it’s better than being called a MILTMALIAD. (Mother I’d like to murder and leave in a ditch.)
A drone, but for seeing which fast food drive-thrus have the shortest line
My husband texted me from work to ask if our son’s cough was wet or dry and I was like whoa whoa whoa, there’s only room for one fake doctor in this family
Me: Tonight I’m going to get some good sleep.
WebMD: With the fishes.
I think my family is really going to dig the 15 minute powerpoint I’ve created of the things I am thankful for at Thanksgiving dinner.
“ew what is that?” is my child’s adorable way of asking what’s for dinner
My plane has an entire high school wrestling team on it, so I imagine we’ll crash in a forest & I’ll become their King.
No more eating spaghetti while driving and this time I mean it.