[puts puppy in microwave]
[googles instructions for making hotdogs]
[quickly releases puppy from microwave]
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I don’t think I cadaver study a dead body
In all of this horror movie scenes where the bed is levitating it’s just the monster under the bed, sneezing.
My 5-year-old was pretend playing and she said to herself, “I’m super old, I’m 36” And I sent her to her room because the disrespect.
If you encounter a bear in the wilderness, sing a Coldplay song. You’ll die, but the bear will suffer too.
Autocorrect doesn’t recognize my gangsta nature.
My toxic trait is working out for twelve minutes, then rewarding myself with chips and salsa, and eating them until I can no longer breathe.
If any of my neighbors end up being serial killers, I can tell you one thing for sure: When I’m interviewed by the local news, I’m not going to say, “He was so quiet and kept to himself. I never would’ve suspected him.” I’ll be like, “People are garbage, so I’m not surprised.”
Me: Rest assured I will go to the grave with your secret.
Pat: Thank you.
Me: Unfortunately so will my golfing buddies.
Me: I ran into Aryan, who works at the airport
Dad: who?
Me: I ran into that guy who works at that place
Dad: oh Aryan
I now know that no matter how happy you are it’s not always the right time to clap your hands and show it.
Mother in Law’s funeral taught me that.
Her: Do you have any fantasies?
Me: Probably a ham sandwich that’s a metre long
Her: No I meant like hot ones
Me: Oh yeah I’d toast the bread
Everyone’s a gangsta until you make eye contact with a stranger whilst shoveling tacos in your face.
Call me old fashioned, but I never cry in front of another man unless it’s to get out of a speeding ticket…
no one:
my brain:
key largo montego
olivia rodrigo
[my parents come for a visit]
i love you guys so much please stay forever you can have my bed i’ll buy dinner
[my mom puts a wooden spoon in the dishwasher]
well this has been fun,
My husband loves to role play Sexy Star Wars in bed.
Maybe one day I’ll get to wear the golden bikini.
Deli counter guy told me bad things happen in 3’s after he dropped his phone and bumped his head, so I complained about him to management.
Twitter taught me that:
1) Tweets don’t always have to make sense
2) People sure do love to answer rhetorical questions
Typos is the Greek god of spelling errors
Oh eggs, through yonder window break. For I am the olive oil, and Juliet is the vinegar. Salt to taste. Blend to desired thickness
– Romayo and Juliet
Me: *shows up to a gala in my pajamas*
Host: That’s not what I meant by evening wear.
Me: Janet’s boyfriend reminds me of Gandhi
Wife: He looks nothing like him
Janet’s bf: [tapping on car window] Don’t forget about Gandhi
INTERVIEWER: this says u work well with otters. Did u mean others?
ME (shoving a romp of otters back into my briefcase): haha yeah of course
[interrogation]
“What do you do for a living?”
“Kidnapper.”
“Louder for the tape?”
[leans in]
“I’m a pig rapper. I make farmyard hiphop.”
Superman’s Google searches:
“Strongest hero”
“Strongest hero. Not Hulk”
“Fastest hero”
“Fastest hero. Not Flash”
“Phone booth for sale”
something like this could probably happen to anyone
HER: what are you doing?
ME:
*closes page
*deletes history
*performs factory reset
*throws phone against the wall
nothing why, what’s up?
The date was going so well until he called me gorgeous and I blew a bubble out of my nose on accident.
The kids wanted the Zero Gravity Laser Racer, a toy car that follows a laser.
I handed them a flashlight and pointed at the cat.
Living with my 6-year-old is like living with a firing squad, only it’s questions instead of bullets.