Hi I’m the protagonist of a YA horror story. My name is something VERY SYMBOLIC like Persephone Underworld or Circe Evil-Lineage. Tho it seems vague, if you’re good at doing an allegory you’ll understand it’s a hint that my family has an evil, death-related history. Spoiler alert
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Me, walking out of a store: *wow all these dudes are staring at ME? A middle aged mom? Ok. Yeah. Sure. I mean I guess I’m still hot maybe, ok yeah good for me*
Me, an hour later: *ok so I tucked my dress into my underwear a few hours ago I see that now NEVERTHELESS*
Everything that my lip balm is, I want to be.
Rich, Hydrating, and Age-Defying.
discontinue use and talk to your doctor if you experience death, as this may be a sign of a more serious condition.
You know that pain which starts at your hip, runs down your leg, out the front door,and goes across the street to the bus stop… I’ve that.
If your teens are arguing about the best way to cut sandwiches while holding super sharp knives, it’s a good time to remind them that you can only afford college for one anyway.
My husband: This marriage is getting a bit crowded
Me: WAIT…WHAT ARE YOU SAYING?
My boyfriend: Sorry to interrupt–this is so awkward–but can someone please pass the mustard?
*in court for murder*
I’m appreciate your feedback on not killing people. I’m listening, learning and growing.
When I’m empty-handed my dog doesn’t know what the word ‘sit’ means, but if I have a treat she can perform neurosurgery.
I ordered some fitted sheets that have U.S. road maps on them. Now I’ll have two reasons why I can’t fold them.
cutie flirting w/ me: “Excuse me, how much does a polar bear weigh?” 😉
me, trying to be helpful: “An average male polar bear weighs up to 1,500lbs!”
cutie: “…’enough to break the ice’?”
me: “Haha I hope not, but climate change is having disastrous effects on their habitat!”
Stop me if you’ve heard this already.
-said no kid ever
Couples therapist: so what’s the main issue
Henry VIII: she doesn’t support my goals
Therapist: for example?
Henry VIII: well I just want to kill her and marry someone else, I mean why is she like this
Me: *juggles stapler, tape dispenser and hand sanitizer*
Interviewer: I meant are you good at multitasking. Please return those items to my desk.
{at sports arena}
*kiss cam pans to me just as I take a huge bite of a hotdog
Me: *panics and seductively licks mustard off my lips.
Why is it called a herd of horses and not a neighborhood?
2005 Single
2006 Single
2007 Single
2008 Single
2009 Single
2010 Single
2011 Single
2012 Single
2013 Single
2014 Single
2015 Single
2016 Single
2017 Single
2018 SingleReward me for consistency please
Ahh yes 2022, the 2021 of 2020
Don’t worry, men. Women can’t tell women to calm down either.
I don’t know why guys love anal. My ass is an exit only. Unless I’m drunk. Or he’s rich. Or cute. Or has all his teeth.
My phone says “missed calls”. Which is an odd description for something I watched happen.
[having a heart attack in a restaurant] Tell my wife… I had a salad
My toddler saw Santa for the 2nd time this season and when he asked her what she wanted for Christmas, she quit smiling, looked him dead in the eye, and told him, “I already told you”. And that was the moment I realized that I’m going to have to get so much better at lying.
I was sitting there getting my hair cut, when a spider ran across the floor.
And that’s how you accidentally get bangs.
My daughter woke me up at 5 am to urgently tell me “any balloon spongebob blows up is technically a water balloon” & I have not been able to fall back asleep
[astronaut test]
Before you begin, questions?
[hand raised]
“Is it true the moon is cheese?”
Are you that damn mouse again?
[mouse runs out]
“This just in..”
My foot to my mouth.
Clay shooting is like real life Duck Hunt, right up until you swing your controller around towards the crowd and they’re all like “PUT THE GODDAMN GUN DOWN, Alison!”
“Not my circus, not my monkeys” is done. Let’s switch it to “not my pigs, not my blanket.”
Keep yourself entertained during quarantine by taking daily mail comments and putting them on New Yorker cartoons to create your own satirical comics.
My wife left me by doing the “stairs behind the sofa” thing and never came back