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I feel like Indiana Jones every time I go looking for keys in my purse.
“Chicks dig a bad boy,” I say as I write ‘POOPIE’ in crayon all over her bedroom walls.
Dave’s coming over
“Dave from work or loud and obvious Dave?”
[outside]
THE RAIN HAS MADE ME WET. I AM WEARING PANTS. MY EYES ARE BLINKING
My tinder profile shows me crying holding a mediocre fish.
This everything bagel has too much giraffe on it
Not me going in with a stool sample to my GP surgery & I when I handed it in the receptionist asked if it was requested by the doctor as if I just decided to shit in a tube and hand it in to her????
OK, I’m ready for Senior Mints now.
[sifting through mail]
baby shower invitation? Haha, um no thanks, Linda. I have a regular size shower that I can use whenever I want
(Bar)
Him-Are you seeing anyone?Me-Oh yes.
[I wink at the weird clown that resides on the very edge of my peripheral vision at all times]
Survival Tip: if a bear comes at you, do not try to “sweep the leg”. They’ve all seen The Karate Kid and learned how to defend against it.
When I say “seriously!” with either of the eyebrows raised, it could be a thinly disguised euphemism for wtf!!!
Why are there never any GOOD side effects? Just once I’d like to read a prescription bottle that says, “May cause extreme sexiness.”
“Life Is a Highway” has gotta be my favorite song about having sex with a road
me at a restaurant
waiter: here’s ur cup 🙂
me: oh thank you
waiter: *puts down cup*
me: thank you
waiter: *fills cup up with water*
me: thank you
waiter: i’ll be back soon with your food
me: thank you
I make sure I throw any vegetables offered to me across the room to make a point.
THERAPIST: you’re running from something. what do u think it might be?
[goose outside the window does throat-slitting motion]
ME: uh—failure
I tried to cook beef Wellington. It was just beef Okayington
І never thought І wouId say thіs, and іt took me a whіle to come to terms, but І thіnk І ate too much bacon.
gf: that guy hit on me, make him pay
me: [to guy] u need to buy our drinks
“Are you really 43?”
Me: “who lies about being 43?”
St. Patrick’s Day: the day the Venn diagram for people who touch my hair for luck and the number of times I throat punch someone is just a circle.
I’m beginning to think my best chance of fame is if someone names a syndrome after me.
Who called it “playing footsie” and not “becoming sole mates”?
When I die, I’d like a closed casket funeral, but I’d like my body to be painted on the top of the casket, only with a lot more muscles added.
I say make the bed the second you get out of it. My sister says let the sheets cool first. We each suspect the other of instability.
Trees put cats in their hair so they can flirt with firefighters when they climb up them.
Today I finally told my kids that St Patrick isn’t real, and it’s been me putting the snakes under their pillows all these years.
I am really shocked that there is not a website devoted solely to the most clever Wi-Fi names of all-time.
Lately *certain* individuals have been making very hurtful remarks about my personal choice to wear mittens rather than gloves.
But I don’t like to point fingers.
Baby: *sleeps longer than expected*
Me: *checks if baby is alive*Kid: *makes loud thud from other room*
Me: *checks if kid is alive*Teen: *hasn’t sighed in an hour*
Me: *checks if teen is alive*