[1 AM]
BRAIN: Let’s play the insomnia game.
ME: Nope. *downs NyQuil*
BRAIN: How dare you…
ME: *drifts off*
BRAIN: Begin diarrhea subroutine!
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You wouldn’t know her, she goes to a different pandemic.
HIM: If you’re upset that people think you’re weird, have you tried being less weird?
ME: [eating ice cream with chopsticks] Yes.
losing it at this lady preaching abstinence at LSU and the students just going buck wild
“I’m gonna sneak some candy”, my 4yo announced loudly.
If you’re wondering why it seems like there are so many birthdays these past few weeks it’s because we are the result of parents who have sex once a year on Valentines Day
At my funeral I won’t need a coffin. I will be cremated from the neck down and my head will be on a stick. If you want to say anything about me you have to hold my head stick
*crying and eating cookie dough ice cream*
HUSBAND: Did you have a bad day?
ME: No. Why?
BABY BOSS: we need to talk about your work ethic
ME: *covers face with hands*
BABY BOSS: oh guess he’s out for lunch. I’ll talk to him later
Bad day? Listen to 90s rap. Problem solved. Unmotivated? Listen to 90s rap. Problem solved. Don’t like rap? Listen to 90s rap Problem solved
Alright. Let’s cut the shit. Who harbinged this doom?
Wife [who turns 50 tomorrow]: Tonight is your last chance to have sex with a woman in her 40s.
Me: Is it, though?
Wife:
Me:
Wife:
Me: I just-
Wife: Blew your last chance, yep.
RIP little boat. I can’t think of a more dinghy friend, canoe?
This isn’t fat this is a stockpile. I’m doomsday prepping.
1 star recipe reviews are always like “I replaced the sugar with flax seed and butter with spinach and these pancakes came out dry and gross. Do not recommend”
I cleared the leaves out of my flower bed because I practice good floral hygiene.
If someone finds a long red hair in the meal I’ve prepared, I yell “YOU WIN” and toss them a piece of candy.
Hi. I didn’t mean to “like” your tweet. I was scraping dried jelly off my phone
I hate when drinks say to shake well. Like we’re all just masters of shaking things
*me looking at a police lineup*
Number 3 is cute. OMG Is he single? Give him my number! What? Oh. Right. Five. Number 5 killed my grandpa.
Cinderella & Clark Kent would be a fun couple. Any time she took off her shoe or he took off his glasses, it’d be: “Who the hell are you?!”
I don’t worry about my ex husband stealing my identity because he never even remembered my birthday
GF: just FYI, my dad teaches at the Naval Academy
[meeting her parents]
ME: [lifting up shirt] does my belly button look weird to you?
My strong stance on drinking milk straight from the carton has met with no opposition from people who haven’t caught me yet.
I was indifferent to Top Gun: Maverick, but I’m seeing so much good buzz about it that right now I’m going to drop everything and totally watch it on basic cable in a couple of years.
me: *goes outside during the day* why is the moon is so spicy
the most challenging thing I’ve done all week is explain to a 4 year old where he was in photos taken 7 years ago
Me: I try to avoid working out while on vacation.
Also me: [lugs seven beach chairs, five umbrellas, a cooler, a bag containing snacks and 13 bottles of sunscreen, and a cornhole set down a half-mile down to the beach through eight inches of soft sand]
Look, if you need a heimlich, just ask me nicely, enough of this flapping your arms and making faces shit.
Despite what they tell you, my kids love playing the games I make up, like “where did mommy put her keys this time” and “who can spot mommy’s cell phone”