If I knew you in high school and your Facebook profile picture is a baby I’ll assume you’re Benjamin Button and unfriend you.
My favorite thing about babies is that none of them are mine.
I wonder who the sorting hat will choose as the new Pope.
I bet Lance Armstrong is smugly saying “at least I didn’t kill anybody” to like every person he sees today.
Don’t forget to take a screen shot of the weather forecast today and post it on Instagram.
How does Disney decide who needs pants and who doesn’t?
I’d run way more miles a day if someone holding a bagel was running in front of me and someone holding a spider was chasing after me.
My cat is meowing loudly so I told her to use her indoor voice and she was like, “bitch, I’m an indoor cat. This IS my indoor voice.”
No thanks, babies. If I’m going to let something inside of my body that’s going to destroy my figure, it’ll be cheese, bread and booze.
You think if I tell my dad “30 is the new 20” he’ll start paying all my bills for me again like he did 10 years ago?