Scientist: The average person spends 6.9 hours a week on Twitter.
Me: You mean a day?
Scientist: What?
Me: What?
You Might Also Like
Telling a woman to get back in the kitchen is a weird insult to lob on Twitter. We can still tweet from kitchens. We have wifi & data plans.
writer: ok so a guy and girl named jack and jill
editor: ugh 2 lame white kid names. fine, go on
writer: well, they go up a hill
editor: i’m already bored
writer: to fetch a pail of water
editor: kill me
writer: no trust me it gets better
Sorry I didn’t do something sooner, I just couldn’t tell whether you were choking or beatboxing
When a woman says “WHAT did you just say?” say something different.
Walking my 6yo out to the car and pointing at a patch of dead weeds in the yard he says, “Mom what happened to those plants?!” and I’m like “those were dead before I got here I did not kill them.”
Me: Am I in trouble?
Her: [Starts Alanis Morissette and Olivia Rodrigo playlist]
Me: Oh no.
I’m just a girl standing here wishing I was as thin as my patience
Kid: *spills cereal all over the floor*
My husband: Can you grab the vacuum cleaner?
Me: Sure *whistles for the dog*
Him: What are you watching?
Me: Um, it’s like a foreign documentary
Him: What’s it called?
Me: I don’t actually remember
Him: Is it 90 Day Fiancé?
Me: yeah
You had me at “she’s the one,” but lost me at “officer.”
Helen Hunt but only when Helen hungry.
I wish I was Jean Claude Van Damme, not to be able to roundhouse kick my co-worker, but to bore him to death as I act out a scene.
It’s pretty shitty people are giving back the highways they adopted now that lockdowns are over.
I threw a ball for my dog.
Extravagant, I know.
But he looks amazing in a tuxedo.
“You want crumbs with that?”
-My bed, every night.
Bloodmobile: Sir, for the last time, this isn’t a food truck.
Dracula: Theez iz some bullshit.
[listening to twenty one pilots]
ME: ok ok one at a time
Yup….perfect score!
You know that confused look old people get when looking at new technology?
I’m like that, but with salad.
Me: *plays imaginary playground game with my boys where we’re a crew flying through deep space on the hunt for storm troopers, armed only with our wits and pretend lightsabers on a fantastical, mysterious journey aboard our supersonic spaceship*
6yo: Are we there yet?
POLICE CHIEF: We need you to go deep undercover.
ME: How deep?
CHIEF: VERY deep.[Later, lying on a blanket, looking at the stars]
ME: *Turns to mob boss* What do you think God is?
Kristen Stewart seems like one of those missing milk carton kids who was raised by their kidnapper.
Boss: Someone’s been cutting corners.
Me: Hey, that’s unfair.
Edward Scissorhands: (acting nonchalant) Yeah, I noticed that, too.
We complain when it’s hot. We complain when it’s cold. We are such cunts. That’s why ET went home and never came back to visit.
[knock on door]
JEHOVAH’S WITNESS: do you have a few minutes to talk about jesus?
ME (hates gossip): no
Avoid getting crumbs in your bed by eating in your kid’s bed.
We reach out to meet each other half way, filling the vast void between us. We yearn to become as one.” – A poem by my eyebrows
Aries: You will give blood generously this week, but it won’t be your idea.
Everything at the mini mart is normal-sized and I feel so betrayed.